#panic! at the disco x reader fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loverontheleft · 9 months ago

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Happiest (revised)

Original request(s): I would love an imagine where the reader and Brendon are at Disney World, and he proposes in front of Cinderella Castle and it’s just so fluffy and sweet? Thanks! Aaaaaaand I would love to have a Brendon x reader imagine during a slow dance in their home followed by really slow, passionate, fairly vanilla sex.

Brendon x reader

Word count: 3.9k➡️5k

Warnings: nothing really. Pretty vanilla per the request.

-||-

“Bren, why are we walking so fast?” You’re practically trotting alongside your boyfriend, your hands tangled together as he cuts through the crowd—well, as he follows through the parting of the people Zack makes as he cuts through the crowd while Jake brings up the rear, his camera in tow. “Our next Genie+ pass isn’t until—” you pause to think.

“5:30. For the Seven Dwarves. But—” Brendon cuts himself off and tugs you close so you’re flush against him as a tour group in bright yellow shirts marches by, chanting at the top of their lungs. “But we’ve got somewhere to be,” he finishes, stroking the small of your back. “Come on, my love.” He nods in the direction where Zack and Jake are waiting patiently. Before starting though, he adjusts his hat as the stragglers of the tour group shoot you both furtive looks. You nudge him and look up at him, and he looks back at you. You’re silently asking the question, and Brendon nods. There’s a bit of time.

He waves at the teenagers, who squeal in stunned recognition, while you dart away to tell Zack that Brendon needs five minutes. Mission accomplished, you move back to where your boyfriend stands, and offer to take the photos. He beams at you, and the girls are gushing with gratitude to you both.

Photos taken and Zack alerted, he’s back to his brutal pace, and you and Brendon are laughing as you stumble over each other to keep up with him. Jake is taking his time, stopping and shooting his own photos seemingly at random but always catching back up with you by weaving through the crowds effortlessly. When you finally come to a stop, you stare up at the castle in front of you. “Brendon, what are we—” but your stomach growling interrupts you before you can finish the thought. He smiles.

“Fixing that. Come on, Y/n. We’re having lunch at the castle!” Brendon beams at you as Zack leads your group into the tunnel cutting through the castle and opens an ornate door on one side. You must look like a child at Christmas when you launch yourself at Brendon, hugging him tightly, and you can hear the shutter of Jake’s camera going crazy. “Happy, Princess?” Brendon murmurs in your ear. You nod, still clinging to him.

“You do make me feel like a princess,” you tell him, smiling radiantly. “I’m the luckiest, happiest girl.”

He kisses your forehead and holds you close as Zack lets the cast member at the hostess stand know the four of you are here. “Zack doesn’t mind being the responsible adult, handling all of this for us, does he?” You cling to Brendon, and he shakes his head.

“Nah. For one thing, he knows I shouldn’t do it myself. Best to lie low whenever possible. Small things like the photos earlier aren’t a big deal, but…my name on a lunch reservation feels different. And our anxiety manifests differently. Mine, I need to avoid it all. He needs to feel like he’s in control. And this way, he is. Despite what he may say or how he rolls his eyes, he likes taking care of you. He knows you’re important to me,” and Brendon breaks off so he can kiss you softly. “He knows you’re important to me, which means you’re important to him. He knows you make me the happiest I’ve ever been so…he’s going to keep you safe and keep you around.” Brendon shifts a little, biting his lip. “I love you.”

Your eyes are welling, and you clutch him to you. “I love you too. Thank you for treating me so well.” Brendon smiles and brushes his lips over yours once more, murmuring that he’s only treating you the way you deserve to be treated. “Still…” you trail off when Zack beckons. “Oooh! Time to go,” you say giddily, tugging at Brendon’s hand. “Let’s go, baby!”

-||-

“How do I look?” Brendon angles the plastic crown on his head and looks to you for approval. “That bad?” He teases when he catches your rapt expression. “Yikes, I knew I’d look dumb, but—” and as he reaches to remove the crown, you shoot out a hand and slap his away.

“Don’t you dare. You look gorgeous,” you murmur, transfixed on him. “Absolutely gorgeous. My Prince Charming.” He beams at you and raises his glass to yours, tapping them together lightly. “To us,” you say with a smile. He echoes your toast happily, and you both drink. Zack and Jake mimic the two of you, making you and Brendon blush and laugh.

“Sorry guys, we’ll try to stop living in our own little world,” you offer, and Jake shrugs, urging you two to lean together so he can take a photo. Brendon gets up and moves around the table to wrap his arms around you, and you smile up at him, forgetting about the camera and everything else. You tend to do that in his arms. There’s the snap of the shutter—you both blink, adjusting your expressions for the camera.

“Don’t bother,” Jake says with a wave, studying the preview screen. “That candid was everything.” He turns the camera to show you both, and you gasp quietly. “I know, right? It’s perfect.” Jake looks ridiculously pleased with himself, but you have to concede that the photo is definitely your new favorite.

Brendon kisses the top of your head before moving back to his seat. Once seated, he reaches across the table, taking your hands.

“Alright, time for a confession.” You look at him with wide eyes, and he smiles nervously. “This technically isn’t just a vacation.” Brendon pauses, and you nod, encouraging him to continue, even though you’re confused. “I have something important to do later. But if you’ll bear with me, I promise it’ll be worth it.” He smiles reassuringly and squeezes your hands. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” you tell him, raising your intertwined hands to kiss your interlocked fingers. “You always keep your promises. What do you have to do later that’s important?” He mimes zipping his lips and grins at you as the server places your side salads in front of you. You’re distracted; you give a quiet squeal of delight and gesture at your salad bowl. “Bren, even the croutons are shaped like Mickey!” He laughs delightedly at your glee and nods, watching you happily. “B, this is amazing. You’re amazing. Even if you won’t tell me what we’re really here for, this is amazing, and I’m so happy.”

“I’m glad. You being happy is all I ever want.” He shoots Zack a playfully dirty look when Zack gags into his cheeseburger, and you all laugh before digging into your food. “I mean it,” Brendon murmurs later over the slice of cake you’re sharing for dessert. “You being happy is everything to me.” You stab a piece of cake with frosting and bring it to his lips, smiling when he delicately plucks it from your fork.

“I am happy. I'm so happy. Brendon, my love, I’m the happiest. Are you?” You ask the question softly, taking your own bite. He nods eagerly, echoing your statement and strokes your hand that’s resting on the table with his index finger. “Good. You are so good and kind and wonderful. You deserve to be the happiest you can be,” you tell him, leaning in and meeting his lips for a soft, chaste kiss. As you part, the server approaches with the bill; Brendon holds out his wrist to tap his magic band to the scanner. Quickly, he signs the slip she offers and adds a tip before the four of you stand.

Brendon slips an arm around your waist and holds you close so Zack can lead the way out of the restaurant. You duck your head and follow Zack out, Brendon right behind you. His hand on the small of your back is soothing; you relax into his touch. Once you’re outside, you both slip your hats back on and check each other. “Good?” You ask, and he nods, kissing you quickly.

“Perfect. I’m good too?” He asks, tugging at the brim of his hat, and you echo him, taking both of his hands in yours and swinging them back and forth. “Good,” he affirms, squeezing your hands. “Let’s go,” he says after a moment, beckoning you to follow him. You’re at a leisurely pace now, and Zack pauses by a building designed to look like a fire station on Main Street. He knocks on a door, and it opens; Zack herds you and Brendon inside.

“Here we are,” Brendon murmurs, shrugging out of his leather jacket, leaving him in black jeans and a black t-shirt. You shiver just looking at him, and he slings it over your shoulders. “Cold, sweetness?” When you nod, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Then I’ll leave it with you. And my hat.” He nests it over yours. “Keep those safe for me?” He asks, and you give him a quizzical look.

“Where will you be? Wait, where are we?”

Brendon smiles sheepishly when a Disney cast member trots up with a clipboard in hand. The back of the clipboard has a familiar wreath logo on it, and you gape at him in disbelief. “Are you…no…wait. Are you—are you going to be in the Disney Christmas parade?” You’re whispering, even though everyone in this huge room seems to be in on the plan.

He grins at you and nods as another cast member appears with a garment bag. She unzips it swiftly and whips out a jacket you’ve never seen before, but it’s definitely meant for Brendon: the gold swirls look like a recent tour jacket, but these are slightly more precise, more uniform, and they look like—you grab his arm. “Those are Mickey heads!”

Brendon smiles and nods as he slips into the jacket, and yet another cast member comes up with a small black case that opens to reveal his signature golden microphone. “Urie, you sneak!” You exclaim in a stunned whisper, unable to stop grinning. “I didn’t even know they were recording today. This is the best surprise ever.”

“Hopefully not ever,” he murmurs with a small smile, passing you the microphone to hold while Zack slips him the box with his cufflinks; they’re a custom black opalescent set you got him last Christmas with his band’s logo engraved in them, and you get a little thrill every time you see him wear them. “Okay. I’ll see you soon, my love.” He kisses you once more, holding you close and breathing you in. “I won’t miss our Genie+ pass. Promise.” He pulls back and smiles, eyes shining. “I love you, Y/n.”

You whisper it back, hand him his microphone, and he blows you one last kiss as he’s whisked away by the cast members; you whirl around to look at Zack and Jake. “You guys knew?” They exchange looks and then meet your eyes. “Oh, of course, you knew. He couldn’t take one step without one of you knowing about it. Okay, so…now what? Do we get to watch? Where do we watch?” You’re impatient; you just want to see him perform. You know they’re taping and will require several takes, but you don’t care. You love watching him perform and want to see every moment of it.

At your question, a woman looks up; she recognizes Zack and waves the three of you over. There’s a cluster of large monitors and chairs; Jake makes himself comfortable in one and you do too, settling in to wait.

It’s been probably about twenty minutes when one of the cast members who is standing around introduces herself and says she’s in training to work in the boutique doing hair; she asks if she can practice on you. You’re not opposed, but you don’t know the plan. When you glance at Zack, he shrugs and nods, telling you you’ve got the time.

She flags down two fellow cast members to do your makeup and nails after begging to let them practice on you, and before you know it, your vision is entirely blocked by the woman doing your makeup and, honestly, you don’t mind. You know they’re not filming yet, so you're not missing anything, and the brushes feel good on your skin. You only did the bare minimum this morning: a tinted moisturizer, some mascara, and your lip gloss. But Shannon, as she introduced herself, is going all out, studying you from different angles while Tori works on your hair, debating between different styles behind you, and Renee works diligently at your cuticles. The camera shutter startles you; you look up, and Jake is grinning at you innocently, telling you Brendon will want to see you all done up.

-||-

“God,” you marvel, looking at yourself in the mirror. “You’re all incredible!” They blush and thank you before turning their attention to the monitor where you can see Brendon’s float just edging onto the screen. His voice carries through the air, and you’re swooning internally, watching him work the crowd from the Nightmare Before Christmas float he’s been assigned. Everyone else in the waiting area is mesmerized too, and your heart swells with pride. Your man is so talented and makes people so happy. He’s clearly having the time of his life, and you can’t wait to curl up in bed with him and have him tell you all about it.

It’s been maybe thirty minutes of repetition, of pulling the float back to reshoot from a new angle, when Zack checks his watch and comments that your clothes, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt with Brendon’s leather jacket thrown over it, don’t really match your face and hair. The three women guide you out of your chair and lead you away with knowing grins, telling you not to protest.

“I blame you for this, Zack!” You call back teasingly before falling into stunned silence when Shannon flings open a door to a room that’s filled with what looks like dresses in every shade and every type of fabric known to man. “Well,” you say with a good-natured shrug. “You’ve done my hair, nails, and makeup…might as well dress me up too.”

-||-

“Oh Y/n!” Zack exclaims in a teasing voice. “You look like an absolute princess!” You roll your eyes at him and smooth your hands over the black crepe sheath dress Tori convinced you to put on. Brendon’s jacket is still keeping the chilly air off of your otherwise-bare shoulders and you insisted on keeping your high-top converses on; still, you do actually feel pretty fantastic.

Zack checks his watch again. “Right. Come on.” He reaches for you, and you shoot him an alarmed look, saying you’re not going anywhere; you need to go change out of the dress. “No time. We’re going now.” He’s putting a hand on your shoulder and steering you towards the fire station entrance and back towards Main Street, despite your protestations. “Come on, let’s go.”

When you step out onto Main Street, your breath catches. The parade is still going, and it’s absolutely incredible. Zack keeps walking, the hand on your shoulder propelling you gently forward. As you approach the castle, Zack waves at another cast member with a clipboard and headset, and there’s a call to pause. Brendon’s float is centered in front of the castle, and Zack nudges you through the floats. You look up; Brendon is waiting for you, an expectant smile on his face and—is that anxiety in his eyes? “

Brendon, what is this?” Your voice shakes, because you think you know. At least, you hope you know. The hair and makeup, the change of clothes, the manicure, the perfect positioning of the float in front of the castle—it’s all hinting at one thing, and you know you’ll be disappointed if you’re wrong. “Brendon?”

Instead of answering, he holds out one hand for you; you take it, and he leads you to the center of the float, smiling at you reassuringly, his thumb moving in soft circles over the back of your hand.

“I love you,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. Your eyes are wide, your legs are trembling, and your hands are shaking as he raises the microphone back to his mouth. You’re more sure than ever that you know where this is going, and you take a steadying breath. He’s worked so hard to make this all possible; you’re going to take it all in and remember every single detail.

“Two years ago, you made me the happiest man alive when you said yes to being my girlfriend. It’s been two amazing years, and I can honestly say you being by my side for the highs has made them that much sweeter, and the lows have been so much more bearable. You’re perfect for me; we complement each other so well, and I’m so wildly in love with you. I don’t want to go a single day without you in my life. Y/n Y/l/n, will you make me the happiest man alive once more?”

Your hands are over your mouth, and your eyes are brimming with tears as he drops to one knee while fishing a small box out of his suit jacket. Eyes on his, you drop your hands, letting him take your left hand with one as he holds the open ring box carefully in the other. “My love, my dream girl, my princess—can we add one more title? Will you become my wife and do me the honor of marrying me?”

You’re nodding, repeating your “yes�� over and over again before the whole sentence is even out of his mouth, and he’s on his feet in an instant, his arms around you as his lips find yours for a passionate, ecstatic embrace. The crash startles you both; you pull away and start laughing giddily as the gold glitter fireworks explode behind the castle. “You’re absolutely incredible; you’re the best man I’ve ever known,” you tell him, forehead resting against his and lips brushing.

“Because you make me strive to be. Let me put your ring on your finger, my love,” Brendon murmurs, stepping back and taking your left hand again so he can slide the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit and truly stunning; it’s a large, round solitaire diamond that shines like nothing you’ve ever seen before. “It looks beautiful on you,” he tells you softly, and you fling your arms around him again, telling him it’s absolutely perfect as you kiss him deeply. His hands slide down your back and move past your waistline; you arch into him, desperate for more. Zack clears his throat, and you pull apart, beaming at each other and breathing hard.

“You’re on a float for a family parade in front of Disney’s castle; everyone is watching. Keep it PG,” Zack intones. “Good news; that was the last take for Brendon. You’re both free to go.”

-||-

“I have one more surprise for you,” Brendon murmurs, stroking your hand lovingly as you sit snuggled up beside him on the grass at the fireworks viewing party following the dessert buffet he booked for your group. You look at him in wonder; he’s had surprise after surprise this afternoon.

“It’s a good one,” he assures you, and you laugh, nudging him with your shoulder and telling him that each surprise has been perfect. “I think you’re really going to like this one though,” he says with a smile. “I hope.” He slings his arm over your shoulder and you burrow against him, warmer now that you’re back in your original clothes—though you appreciate his sneakiness earlier; he knows you well and knew you wouldn’t want to be in jeans when he got down on one knee. The first firework goes off, and he turns his head slightly to kiss your temple. “I love you,” he whispers. “Thank you for making me happier than I ever thought possible. I truly am the happiest I’ve ever been.” You smile up at him and murmur it back, cupping his face in one hand and drawing him in for a long kiss.

When the fireworks come to an end, Brendon stands and offers you his hand; you clamber to your feet and wait for the crowd to disperse. Zack is standing close by and Jake is leaning against the fence of the garden seating area, having gone for a walk to take some photos. When the people thin out, Zack nods and follows closely behind you while Brendon leads the way. Your hands are tangled together and he’s beaming when you approach the castle again. “Brendon, dinner here too?” You’re teasing, but he nods, running his thumb over your ring.

“Sure, we can order room service if you’d like.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait, what?”

“Honey, we’re home,” Brendon says in a dramatic voice, knocking on a door. “We’re staying in the Cinderella Suite. Just for the night though,” he amends with a grin. “A gift from the Mouse to us, celebrating our engagement.” A cast member in an opulent blue velvet uniform swings the door open and greets you by name with a broad smile. He guides you inside and invites Brendon to tap his magic band against a small panel under a painting of the glass slipper. He does so, and elevator doors slide open. You’re in awe; Brendon guides you in after the cast member, Nathan, and Zack and Jake bring up the rear. As the doors shut, you’re still staring at Brendon in silent wonder. The doors open to a marble foyer, and Nathan leads the way, giving you a brief tour of the space.

Once he leaves, Zack checks in with Brendon, who nods and tells him that you’re both fine and definitely in for the night. “Go back out, have fun,” Brendon tells Zack and Jake, who don’t need to be told twice. The elevator doors close after them, and Brendon turns to you, eyes soft.

“Alone at last,” he murmurs, taking you in his arms. “My sweetest girl. My gorgeous princess. My love. My fiancée.” The word makes you beam; you throw your arms around his neck and he lifts you up slightly, carrying you into the living room, or the salon as Nathan called it.

Brendon places you gently on the couch so you’re sitting, and he turns towards the bookshelves, messing with his phone. After a moment, Sinatra’s “All The Things You Are” softly fills the room. “Dance with me, sweetheart?” He extends a hand to you, and you place yours in his eagerly, letting him pull you close.

He’s singing softly in your ear as you dance slowly, one of his hands sliding down your back to rest at the curve of your spine. “All that I want in all of this world is you,” Brendon’s voice is low and smooth, and you find yourself melting into his arms. He holds you tightly before carefully dipping you, and you swoon playfully. You giggle as he brings you upright again, and you cling to him. “I’m the happiest man alive,” he tells you, kissing you softly. You nod, going on tip-toe to kiss him back tenderly.

As the song closes though, you tug at his shirt, leading him back towards the bedroom you saw earlier. You’re ready to really celebrate. “Bedtime, sweetness?” He follows eagerly when you nod, practically tripping over himself as you both laugh and race to the bed hand in hand.

The large bed has an ornate canopy over it, and he lifts you up and lays you out over the plush comforter. “Let me take care of you,” he whispers, and you nod, already barefoot as his fingers work at your jeans.

He makes quick work of your clothes and it’s not long before you’re both under the covers, pressed against each other with roaming hands and eager mouths. “Brendon,” you murmur against his lips. “I need you.” Your hand sneaks down to stroke him gently, and he kisses your temple. One of his hands slips between your thighs and nudges them apart so he can trace his fingers against the wet heat he finds there. You’re moaning and squirming, desperate for more; you drape your leg over his waist, and he pulls you even closer.

“Need you,” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing against him. “Brendon, please.”

“I know, sweetness,” Brendon murmurs, kissing you softly. “I know. I need you. But I also need to get you ready for me; can’t just—” and his hips rock forward. “What kind of fiancé would I be if I just stripped you naked to get my cock in you?”

“Fuck,” you whine, clinging to him. You’re not sure if it’s the feeling of him against your thigh or the things he’s saying, but you’re overwhelmed with lust. “I know you’re being wonderful right now, but—”

Brendon laughs, shaking his head and kissing your forehead. “But nothin, sweet girl,” he teases. “We’re going to do this right, okay?” When you sigh your acceptance, he moves down your body and presses a gentle kiss to your hip. Your back arches just feeling his warm breath on your skin, and your legs fall open wider for him. “Good girl.”

“Oh, yes,” you moan, delving your hands down under the covers to grip his head. “Oh please, Brendon, yes!”

His tongue is moving with delicate strokes, lips caressing and breathing heavy. You’re glad he insisted on foreplay; you love his mouth so much. Brendon’s making soft, desperate sounds as he buries his face in you more firmly, his fingers wrapping around your waist and holding you in place on his mouth. After a moment, both of his hands move behind your knees, guiding them up so the blankets drape over him loosely.

You can’t stop moving against him, can’t stop whimpering his name and praising his tongue or the way he’s slipped two fingers in deep and is curling them back. You gasp, and Brendon nods, murmuring that he wants you to come for him. “Come on my face; give me all this sweetness—love you so much, want you to let go, really come for me. Know you can, and you know I want it all. Give your man everything you’ve got.”

You kick the blankets off, needing to see him. His dark eyes flash up from between your legs; you moan when his tongue rubs against your clit, and then you’re coming hard. Your body is trembling, eyes wide open, lips parted, and your fingers curl in his hair as you come with a loud squeal.

Brendon groans, tongue caressing while his fingers keep stroking through your climax, and you’re trembling when he crawls up the bed to take you in his arms. “Hi, my love,” he murmurs, grinning when you clutch him close and kiss him desperately. “It was good, then?”

“Yes; god, so good,” you whisper, nodding to reinforce your point. Brendon sighs contentedly, running a hand between your legs and stroking over his length. “Need you,” you remind him, and he agrees, situating himself over you and kissing you as he pushes in. His quick intake of breath matches your short gasp of pleasure; he caresses your face as his hips move slowly. “Yes,” you repeat, raking both hands through his hair and holding his mouth close to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Brendon says as he rocks forward again, going deeper this time. “Does this feel good?” You tell him yes, you can’t get enough of him; his mouth is on yours again, and he’s got one hand resting on your thigh while the other cups your face, lingering between you and the pillow. You’ve got one hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck while the other strokes over his back. “I love you so much,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper, clinging to him. “So much. I’m going to be your wife.” At the word, both of you break out into uncontrollable grins, and he holds you tight, both of you moaning and moving together slowly. “Oh B,” you whimper, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” Brendon groans, breathing hard. “Y/n, love, my sweet girl, you feel so—”

“Yeah,” you agree in a tight voice. “Yeah, you feel so good—oh god, Brendon! Brendon! Now!”

“Y/n, yes!” The hand framing your face moves to caress your hair and his mouth is on yours with urgency. You’re both moaning into each other’s mouths, your tongues touching and lips moving together as his stomach tenses, and you feel him come. Feeling him brings a hot second wave of pleasure through you, and he groans, clutching you close as you tremble under him. “That’s it honey, come for me. Come for your future husband.”

“Ooooooh fuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as you quiver in his arms. “Brendon, yes!”

“Y/n,” Brendon murmurs after a moment when both of your breaths are steady and even again, nuzzling your nose. “You’re so beautiful. All the time, but especially when you come for me.”

“God, Brendon,” you say with a soft laugh. “You’re—you’re perfect.”

“You are too, Y/n. Perfect and perfect for me,” Brendon says as he brushes your hair over your ear and pulls you closer still. “You’re so damn perfect for me. You’re everything I've ever wanted in a partner. I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers in your ear, stroking your thigh.

“I’m pretty sure they call Disney the happiest place on earth,” you mumble, resting your head against his chest. “Well, I can confirm that’s true. I’m the happiest girl alive right now, and I will be, as long as I’m your wife. So basically forever,” you say with a soft smile. “Since I’m always going to be yours.”

“They also call it the place where dreams come true,” Brendon tells you, kissing your forehead. “And, to quote the love of my heart, the light of my life, and my future wife…I can confirm that’s true, because you’re my dream girl, and I’m always going to be yours.” He kisses you once more as you snuggle in closer. “Y/n…all of my dreams came true today. I love you so much.”

#brendon urie #brendon urie fluff #brendon urie smut #brendon urie imagine #brendon x reader #brendon urie fanfiction #he could fuck me any way he wanted #my work #fanfic #imagine #panic! at the disco

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sunraies · 1 year ago

Note

Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹

Sleepy baby

As requested above

Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.

You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.

Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.

At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.

But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.

You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.

Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.

The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.

"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.

"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.

"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.

All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.

"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.

"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"

Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.

Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'

He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.

"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"

If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.

What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.

He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.

"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.

"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them

"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.

"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"

You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.

"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.

"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.

"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.

"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.

He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #outerbanks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron fic

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wonwayne · 11 months ago

Text

whatever you say ☁️ park jongseong

pairing : bf!jay x fem!reader genre : tooth-rotting fluff warnings : none! word count : 0.85k

a/n : i don't really know what this is. but it's cute. (just HAD to write on this thought [creds to @atrirose] because husband material jay !!)

home. nothing felt better than coming back from an achingly long work day to the smell of you. closing the door softly behind him, jay let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. comfort always seemed to creep up on him like this, with subtle reminders in the air that you would always be there for him, ready to—

“help me build the titanic?”

you beamed up at your boyfriend, legs crossed on the living room carpet, encircled by seemingly infinite lego pieces in red, white, yellow, and black.

not quite what jay was expecting to come home to. but he approached your little recreation ground anyway, lunging carefully towards the box packaging. “another 2000+ piece lego set?”

“9000!”

“oh—”

“9090, to be exact.”

jay nodded, kneeling down by the carpet to match your eye level. “... that’s really—”

“wait no, 9092! sorry i keep correcting myself, it’s just that i forgot to add the jack and rose minifigures.” you pointed proudly at the thumb-sized people. “once i’m done with the ship, i’m going to have them at the bow like that iconic scene. and then maybe every few days i’ll move them to the floor and put rose on a little door.” you held lego jack up to your boyfriend’s face. “you look just like him.”

he glanced to the side before mirroring its boxy grin. “do i?” you nodded vigorously. “well that’s very flattering, y/n, but i should say,” and he looked emphatically at the heap of legos strewn between him and you, “you’re making it very hard for me to hug you. any closer, and i’m bound to step on a lego here.”

your expression morphed instantly from disquiet to delight. god, you could never get over how adorable he was when he said the sweetest things in the sternest voice. “i’m sorry!” you burst out, sweeping the pieces to the side and jumping into your boyfriend’s arms. “i’ll be right at the door to hug you next time.”

“thank you, love,” he murmured as he kissed the top of your head, “keep working, i’ll make dinner and help build as soon as i can.”

even more adorable, you thought, for calling your lego-building “work.”

tragically, jay found you breaking your promise just a few evenings following. anticipating your pretty face peeking out of the doorway, he practically raced out of the apartment elevator. but instead of anything to look for, he was met by faint screams and hearty laughs — your laugh among them, and panic consumed him. who would she be laughing with in OUR apartment besides me? why the screams?? what if she’s—

bursting the door open, he was yet again unable to make sense of… you. you, belting taylor swift at the top of your lungs, dappled with rainbow light under the mini disco ball you’d set up in the far corner, mid-cartwheel with a wireless mic in one hand, dangerously close to crashing into both your partners in crime, jake and sunghoon.

they steered clear of you swiftly before freezing at the sight of a narrow-eyed jay.

“uh, y/n,” sunghoon began (poor boy), “i think—”

“—BUT THIS LOVE IS BRAVE AND WIIIIIIIILLLLLDDDDDD,” you persisted, thoroughly unaware of your boyfriend’s presence, and nearly assaulting the sofa as you landed from the cartwheel.

it took you till the end of the song’s bridge to notice your friends’ conspicuous silence. following their uneasy gaze, you saw jay maintaining the hardest poker face you’d ever seen him wear before.

but forget the “oh hi”s, skip the “let me explain”s — you glided over to where jay stood by the entrance and, offering the mic to him, sang quietly: “and i neverrrrrr saw you comiiiiiiiiiiing.” you sounded impossibly good.

“you should’ve,” he said, voice low, and with the hint of a pout, “seen me coming.” at a louder volume, he addressed the boys while his arms wrapped around your waist, “why do i have to come home to these two losers making a mess on a respectable thursday evening?”

jake opened his mouth to protest, but jay’s attention was already back to you. “you invited them?” he asked casually, pulling you closer in.

“i was getting bored without you,” and it was your time to pout, “had to unwind somehow.” you conveniently left out the detail that you had organized the whole “mess” in the house, and that the other two had played absolutely no part.

“with karaoke at the ungodly hour?”

“well, only because you arrived at an ungodly hour.”

he paused for a moment, then conceded, “right. of course, love, i’m sorry.”

you missed jake’s priceless expression as he made eye contact with jay across the room.

“P A R T N E R P R I V I L E G E,” he mouthed as aggressively as he could.

jay scoffed, and buried his chin deeper into the crook of your neck.

the only privilege, he would tell the boys later, was that of him having you in his life.

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hyukakisses · 2 months ago

Note

emo yeonjun making reader listen to all his favorite bands!!! mansplaining events, lyrics of the songs (as if you don’t have ears and your own experiences) and slowly getting reader into all of the said bands he oh so loves 🩷🪽

-emo yeonjun putting you on! (request!)

pairings: emo yeonjun x reader

plot: random emo yeonjun trying to put reader on headcanons

warnings: cool yeonjun (he doesn’t fit loser im sorry), sweet reader (my type..), smut, fluff, mentions of smoking (weed), pet names (baby etc etc)

“wait- you seriously don’t know who black veil brides are?” yeonjun frowned his eyebrows “don’t you mean pierce the veil?” your head pops up from laying on the said boy’s chest “are you serious?”

“w-what’s.. what’s this?” your eyes widen at a shoe box full of cds from your boyfriend, he wasn’t gifting you his favorite cds from his favorite bands because he was planning on committing suicide right?

“why are you giving me these? aren’t they from your favorites?” you kept questioning yeonjun confused “im not gifting them to you baby, im just trying to put you on” the emo boy answers trying not to laugh at the confused look on your face

“put me on?” “put me on what?” yeonjun sighs forgetting you’re a little slow sometimes “putting you on good music, meaning you need new artists to listen to baby” “what? and what’s wrong with what i listen to?” you were frowning a bit hurt by yeonjun’s comment. “babe you listen to glee and taylor swift basically the worst top 40”

“i love you” yeonjun chants under his breath as he kissed you hungrily. his bedroom dark and brooding “i love you so much” he repeats making you flush. “i kinda like this song you showed me.. i think it’s called demolition lovers? it’s by my chemical romance” you pull away making yeonjun laugh. “we’re about to fuck right now and you’re telling me about a song?”

“easy baby just inhale and exhale” yeonjun had his hand wrapped around a blunt attached to your pretty lips, your eyes watering at the burning sensation how the hell does yeonjun smoke weed all the time?

“and who created the emo scene baby?” the back of yeonjun’s thumb rubbed tight circles on your swollen clit, making it difficult to respond to his questions

you mentally cursed at yourself for your brain being so forgetful. you spent all day listening to yeonjun’s favorite bands when he was away with his friends how is this not ringing a bell?

you let out a whine, “p-panic at the disco?” yeonjun only laughs at you, signaling you didn’t get the question right

your back arches and you let tears fall down your chubby cheeks when you felt yeonjun pinch and twist on your throbbing clit. “are you feeling that dumb baby? are you really that stupid you can’t answer a simple question?” his other hand pressing against the bulge at your stomach

you wanted to cum so badly, “i-im sorry!” you let out a cry “i meant i meant.. my chemical romance” you let out a sigh in relief when yeonjun pressed himself further inside you. his hand going back to rubbing your clit finally, letting you cum around him.

you felt your boyfriend pull your head into a needy kiss, following by a string of ‘you’re so good to me’ ‘i love you’

#lyrical’s garden 💒#coquette #txt #txt headcanons #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt reactions #txt smut #txt yeonjun #txt fluff #txt post #emo boyfriend #txt x y/n #txt x you

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pygmi-cygni · 4 months ago

Text

Mi Luz - Miguel x reader fluff fic

Content warnings - diabetes-inducing fluff, no smut, kissing, emotional constipation

Summary: Miguel has been struggling with stress, and a soft little somebody can't seem to leave his head. Pining, crush, cute cute cute big man

slow burn for two seconds cause I have no self control

Reader is afab, no y/n, described with having large eyes but that's it

love you sweet thing, enjoy ☆

It was hard to be the king of everything.

That's somewhat what he thought of himself, sitting at the top of his tall but lonely throne, scrutinizing his subjects. Miguel didn't choose this life, it chose him. The bitterness that came with the weight of the world sat thick in his mouth, twisting his lips into a snarl and his brow into a scowl. No surprise that the Spiders around him didn't meet his eye unless to cower in fear.

It didn't bother him. He liked being alone, enjoyed the quiet of his lair - except when his pesky assistant ruined his brooding with her obnoxiously loud voice-

"aw Migs, I thought we were besties..." her pixelated pout hung in front of his eyes.

never shoulda taken you out of the drafts, he muttered, but there was no venom behind the words.

Miguel wasn't a recluse, he was just...busy. Too busy to chat, to 'hang out,' as his younger employees begged. He had shit to do, people to save. Friendship didn't fit in his schedule.

So he stalked through the halls as little as possible, shouldering past cliques and couples holding hands. He didn't need that shit.

Okay, so maybe it bothered him a little bit. Not a lot. Just a smidge. An itsy bitsy amount, if you'll pardon the pun. Hardly worthwhile. Nothing to write home about. Just something that churned in the back of his mind every waking moment of his day came up once in a while.

The irony didn't escape him, how aura sensitivity seemed to be bestowed on the least sensitive man out there. The radiating emotion and color bouncing off of everyone that passed gave him a headache. Miguel had no spidey sense to speak of, no superhuman reflexes, but the minute someone's mood changed, his ears were pricking. Not that he cared.

He didn't care that his chest ached when the sour green of fear laced the aura of his visitors. It was like a switch; he'd walk into the room, and the once shining gold and pastel hues would darken to a nervous blue, thrumming with panic. Some could pass it off, putting on a brave smile for him, but he could see. Miguel could see every shift in hue that betrayed just how little HQ liked him.

But it didn't bother him. He was king of the world.

Miguel's fangs dug into his lower gums as he ground his teeth through the debrief. It had been a shitshow; a group of rookies too unfamiliar with the terrain to do anything other than Fuck It Up. Four of them, Spider-girl 2045, Huntsman, and the twins, Recluse and Widow. All young and stupid.

Currently, all four were talking over each other, auras flashing like disco balls as they bickered over who had the right story.

"I friggin told you, Wid, that's not the right street, it was definitely 45th-"

"Oh, suck my webshooter, that wasn't even the right universe-"

"Would somebody please figure it the fuck out before I send you all back to the void!"

A meek silence followed his outburst.

Miguel was heaving, red eyes glaring down at the comedy of errors beneath him. The kids stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. Shame and embarrassment swirled around them in a sludgy grey haze.

Shit. He did it again, he was trying to be better but they were so fucking annoying and it was loud and his head hurt-

"Go home," he seethed quietly, "figure it out, and come back when your heads are out of your asses."

Not waiting for another scathing word, the Spiders scattered.

With a bone rattling sigh, Miguel collapsed onto his desk frustratedly. Why was he like this? His temper was so strong, no matter how hard he tried to reign it in. Peter had a toddler for chrissakes and hardly ever raised his voice.

LYLA hovered over his shoulder, a knowing look on her face. He nudged his face further into the desk, shutting out her abrasive glow.

"Go 'way," he muttered, teeth scraping the plasticene surface. As always, she ignored him.

"You need help, Miguel. I mean it, hey don't-" her voice went stern as he reached to disable her.

"I don't wanna hear this again," he growled, fumbling for the controls.

"Well, I'm sure these kids don't wanna be screamed at again either, and your feelings are not more important than theirs."

His carmine eyes simmered with rage as he halted. She was right, of course she was right but god why did it hurt-

Shame licked his ribs and he ducked his chin.

LYLA took the opportunity.

"With the new universes we just discovered, there'll be a whole batch of new recruits. Is this really how you wanna run this? Christ, Migs, it's almost better to be independent than deal with you."

At his huff, she crossed her arms. Prancing to the front of his chair, she tapped his nose.

"You can fix it, if you really want to. But who cares if they're saving the world when the world they live in has people like you?"

She blinked out of existence, as a shameful blush reddened his cheeks.

Fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

Twenty new spiders would be arriving today at noon on the dot. Miguel could already feel the migraine coming on as he discussed logistics with Jess and Peter. Training, tours, watches, all the work was piling in his mind.

"Miguel?"

Jess' sharp tone brought him out of his reverie. She looked expectant, a stack of files outstretched. "Did you hear what I just said?"

His blank stare triggered an eye roll. "These Spiders need Multiverse tracking, so you'll take them to the Center at 2:30, yeah?"

Miguel acquiesced gruffly and snatched the files, Meeting adjourned, he waited for his office to be clear again.

Peter hung back, aura churning with conflict.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Hey big guy....up for a chat?" Peter's eyes were bright but wary, and Miguel shot him a weary look.

"I don't have time to chat, Parker, we've been over this," he bit out.

"It's important."

"I don't care, write me an email-"

"Huntsman is AWOL."

Miguel blinked, fiery words fizzling on his tongue. Impossible. He'd just seen him an hour ago, how could that be? Sighing impatiently, he began searching for the small boy on his wall of screens.

"Miguel."

"What."

"You scared him pretty bad, dude. I know you don't like to here this, and I'll try to keep the hippy-dippy to a minimum, but dude," Peter breathed, eyes worried. Miguel struggled to make eye contact, hating the rare sincerity of his tone.

"I mean..." Peter faltered, gesturing to the door. "Voidspace is no joke. Especially some of those kids, where they've come from...you gotta fix your stuff. That's not cool. Jess and I have been-"

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Don't look at me like that," Peter scolded. "You know I'm right."

Miguel seethed out his nose, hands clenching and unclenching around his tablet. god, if only other people saw feelings the way he did, maybe they'd leave him alone.

"I," he spat, "am aware that my temper is...volatile. But-"

"No buts," Jess said from behind him. He whirled. The tension was strangling the air from the room. He needed a break. There was so much to do...

"How you talked to the recruits today was unacceptable. Don't act like you're above consequence," She said in response to his growl. "That behavior is appalling. We can find someone else to do this, you know."

His anger dissipated. She wouldn't.

"You wouldn't."

"If it meant helping the success of the next generation, I would."

Miguel, for once in a long time, felt the sting of tears in his throat. Sensing the shift, Peter gave him an awkward shoulder pat and retreated.

"We care about you, man," he said gently, "but you gotta work this out."

With that, the door slammed shut, and Miguel was alone.

Again.

☆ ☆ ☆

He thumbed the corner of his sweatshirt, damp from his workout. Peter's conversation rattled around his brain. He didn't think he'd been that harsh. He never meant-

He never meant to hurt anyone.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? No matter how hard he tried, someone always got hurt. His tongue was too sharp, his claws too fast.

Her form, small, clutched in his arms, deteriorating into pixels as she sobbed-

No.

He wasn't doing this again. Miguel stared at himself until he was sure the mirror would crack. They deserved better. He deserved better. It was cowardly, the way he hid from emotion.

Was that what it was?

Was he afraid? Afraid to reach out for it to snap back in his face? It seemed so childish, like there should be something more than the fear of other people keeping him at bay. Gabi was gone. There was no changing that. He knew that in his head, but his heart?

The roiling stew of his emotions made his chest tight. He couldn't do this, not right now.

Maybe tomorrow.

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Miguel was steadily working, a slight burn in his red-rimmed eyes the only indication that he was tired. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins, keeping his back rigid and muscles taut.

Another anomaly, another fight, another file. click-click-click went his keyboard, rhythmic in the the empty office.

Almost empty, that is.

Out of the corner of his eye, a soft shine radiated from the doorway. Biting back a sigh, he leveled his tired glare with the figure, mentally preparing himself for one of Peter's scoldings. But as the figure drew closer, he realized he didn't recognize the shimmery white aura or the person attached to it.

"Miguel O'Hara?"

A soft, lilting voice carried from the base of his tower. Miguel blinked, not recognizing the voice either.

"Yes?" He responded gruffly, wracking his brain for who the fuck could be visiting him at this time of night -

"Um...Can...Can you roll down? O-or something? I'm sorry, I just can't really see..." the sweet voice faltered and he rolled his eyes.

Maybe, if they'd waited till a reasonable hour to visit him, his chair would be in a more reasonable position. But nooo.....

Regardless, he began the slow descent from his perch. As he grew closer to the ground, the pearlescent light grew more in focus. Miguel came to the conclusion that he definitely did not know you.

Your expression was patient and soft, standing with your hands folded and dressed in a comfortable sweater. You must be new; most seasoned Spiders wore suits out of convenience. A file was grasped loosely in front of you.

"I'm supposed to be working in the office next door, and it seems I wasn't given a keycard?" Your owlish gaze turned hopeful, and he was taken aback by your gentle gaze.

Miguel had never seen someone with such large eyes. Round and long-lashed, they exuded warmth and an innocence that reminded him of her

No.

Stop it.

"Uh, yeah, hang on a second," He fumbled for his watch and pushed past you, not waiting for you to follow.

His mind was reeling, trying to recall if he was supposed to know who you were. Jess had mentioned an assistant, but he figured it would be someone less....soft. More experienced, that is. Besides, he didn't trust you. No way was he just shoving the fate of the universe in your hands, even though your eyes were nice and you didn't cower when he spoke-

Stop. It.

He exhaled loudly, trying to expel the thoughts with it. You stood next to him, ever patient. Your halo, he found, was still that shimmering white. It was a soft light, not glaring and oppressive like the colors of his teammates. It soothed his headache rather than aggravated it.

Realizing he was staring dumbly at the locked door, he sighed again and slid the keycard across the pad.

Error.

Miguel blinked. He had the master card, it applied to every door, what the hell? Trying again, he felt impatience coiling in his chest. What....

Peter. Peter had borrowed his card to let Mayday out of a lab she'd snuck into. He promised he'd return it by today, but knowing him....

"I can't fucking believe this," Miguel muttered venomously, "he takes the most valuable piece of tech I have and fucking forgets to return it, that irresponsible piece of...shouldn't even be a father, gotta be kidding-"

"Miguel?"

He froze, having forgotten you were there. Humiliation tinged his cheeks. He'd done it again, fuck, he wasn't even trying-

"If it's too much trouble, I can just get my card tomorrow." Your voice was patient and placating.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of how to handle your response.

You were still glowing with a soft white light, tinged only by a slight pink hue. Sympathy. No fear, no ugly red anger or terror at his temper. your eyes. you looked him in the eye. you smiled at him. you wanted to help-

His throat, too choked up with confusion and pity and ugh that he merely grunted and ducked back into his office, leaving your soft gaze behind.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, it drove him crazy. Your patience. Your light. He could feel you from yards away, your glow that was always warm, always kind. Your card arrived safely, and there wasn't another mishap between you two.

Every day, you'd pitter-patter into his office on soft feet and explain the schedule to him, then go through the mission briefs with a gentle tone that didn't falter, even if he grouched about the conferences overriding his lunch break.

He didn't think he'd need an assistant. He could do it himself, had been forever. But you...helped. Your organization was impeccable, finding reason and structure where his brain only saw chaos. Miguel was terrible with time management, but you'd give him a gentle reminder that it was time for a break, or that the work was done and his brooding could be saved for tomorrow.

Go home, Miguel, you whispered kindly, tucking a bag of dessert into his large palms. I'll see you tomorrow.

Well, he'd see you sooner. He liked to think about you. It didn't feel like daydreaming, because you worked together and therefore thinking about you was thinking about work, technically. It puzzled him, how your patience never wavered. You'd heard the stories, comforted victims of his wrath. But your light only burned brighter with him, never dampened in contempt.

He noticed it first at a work party. Miguel hated these functions, found them boring and tedious. Chatting about mundane things while nursing cheap wine and a migraine? He'd pass.

Then, you arrived. Dressed in a soft purple sweater and a long skirt god he loved your sweaters, how warm and docile your eyes hidden shyly beneath your hair. He itched to walk over, but nerves rooted him to the spot. You were tucked against a wall, clearly uncomfortable, and as your gaze scanned the busy room...

you landed on him. And,

you glowed. radiantly, your nervous blue haze shimmered with a soft golden happiness, and you waved with a smile. Miguel swallowed thickly.

You were happy to see him. He, who never gave you more than two word sentences, who snapped and bickered and bit like a hissing cat, made your halo glow so bright it warmed his cheeks.

Nobody had ever felt that way about him. And it was so fucking stupid, the giddiness that made him dizzy. Decency was all it was. You were just being nice. And here he was, a blushing melting mess because you were happy to see him.

He looked forward to you even more after that. Slowly, he tried his best to bite his tongue, to keep the irritation from spewing. Instead, he tried fanning the flames with small talk, stumbling through conversation like a lovesick teenager.

He could tell you were surprised, but you welcomed the change. You would sit at the edge of his desk and talk about random occurrences, silly mundane things that still made his cheeks ache from smiling. How the slowly brightening halo of light around you made him adore you more, even if you had to sheepishly apologize when it got too bright.

don't be sorry, mi luz, he wanted to whisper, I love to see you shine.

Then, inevitably, you would pad back to your office and your light would be gone. Miguel would pout at the loss, missing the gentle glow that made his chest ache.

So he decided to do something about it.

You were revising a plan against the latest anomaly in sector AB-7. His tablet was clutched to you as you curled against his chair. The warmth emanating from your aura made him melt with adoration, eyes growing heavy-

"Migs?"

He hummed, still gazing. You'd picked up the nickname from his AI, and he wanted to curl up in your lap every time you said it.

"You look tired, I'll let you rest." You placed the tablet back on his desk and patted his shoulder god do it again please before turning-

"No."

He murmured it, not quite pleading. You stopped, tilting your head in confusion. "You...can stay. There's room down there, if you still wanna work," he added gruffly.

You didn't say anything, and he felt the words rush out. "It just- it just seems strange that you'd be working in a different office when you spend so much time here anyway, but don't worry about it, it's fine-"

"Migs," you said, so gentle it made his toes curl. "I'd love that."

And hence began the worst mistake of his productive career. Because now you'd made a home in the corner of his space, and your softness was always there, so inviting for him to marvel at. He'd lost hours of working just staring.

He learned everything he could about you. How you weren't cleared to fight, which is why you could afford do dress so comfortable. Fine by him, he'd blow a fuse if something happened to you. As long as he could keep you tucked in his little haven, safe for him to admire, he didn't give a fuck.

Jess would raise her eyebrows at your constant presence, but his heart rate was lower and he smiled. She'd never been more shocked.

He was doing better.

Miguel soon found himself focusing all of his spare attention on you. Buying you sweaters, letting you watch your favorites movies on his widescreen, doing anything to make your light glow a little brighter.

This was....different. he hadn't had this, not for a long while. It made him nervous, a little undercurrent of shyness beneath his desire to make you smile. You were never as forward with him, kind as ever but at a distance. He would take what he could get, though. As long as your light kept shining, he'd bask in its warmth.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, what a meeting. He'd zoned out halfway through, so astronomically exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. His thoughts were consumed with the idea of taking a nap on the old sofa you'd shoved into his office. you'd be right next to him, reading and playing with his hair, oh god if only the clock would move faster- Miguel almost lept out of his chair when the meeting concluded.

His feet quickened back towards his office, feeling your light trickle under the door.

Oh. uh oh. uh oh uh oh.

He stood frozen, staring at his desk. You had made yourself comfortable in his chair, napping with your chin tucked and hair mussed and he felt his chest grow tight god what is happening to him good christ-

Miguel swallowed roughly and peered down at your closed eyes. Your aura was a soft pink, content and sweet. He wanted to hold you so badly. God, that's what he'd been needing. To tuck you up in one of your devilishly soft sweaters and keep his little light all to himself.

It wasn't lust, his desire for touch. Lust felt too carnal, too vile for you. He would never defile you like that, wanting only to watch you shimmer and preen with happiness. Little light, mi luz, so soft...

His eyes were shining with adoration as he looked at you. He didn't know how long it had been, and he didn't care. But after a moment, he realized sleeping on his straight-backed chair would hurt your back. He needed to move you. Hold you on his lap, he was softer and warmer and god help him-

Taking a breath, Miguel slid his forearms under your curled form and lifted slowly, careful not to jostle you. Whatever love demon was inside keened with joy, and he wanted to weep. As he gently maneuvered you towards your comfortable armchair, he caught a shift in your body. Freezing again, he waited for you to finish squirming, finally settling with your head tucked in his neck.

And oh, mi luz

You were glowing warmer now, the faint blush shimmering gold against your hair. Miguel's lips quivered and he began to rock gently. His hands shook with care. He could feel the tranquility rolling off of you in heavy waves, making his eyes heavy and his heart full. You felt safe with him. Soft snuffling breaths against his collar and hands clutched loosely at his nape sent shivers down his back.

He was going to die. His chest burned with the need to shout, to scream with excitement. Finally finally, little soft light, all his to hold-

Miguel might have been squeezing too tight in his joy, because your brow pinched and you mewled in discomfort. He immediately hushed you, coaxing you back into golden sleep. Crooking his elbow so you laid comfortably over his shoulder.

"Sleep, mi luz, I have you. I have you," he cooed, nudging his nose into your jaw. You sighed contentedly and murmured a good night as he gently laid with you in the armchair. He buried his face in your hair, shivering with the warmth that enveloped him.

☆ ☆ ☆

Wherever this was, he never wanted to leave. Miguel felt syrupy and languid, wrapped in a cocoon of something that felt divinely warm and safe and

"Migs?"

A rustle, and the lovely bundle in his arms blinked blearily at him. His lovestruck eyes shone down at his little love, and he smiled gently.

"Hi, dovey," he murmured, rubbing your back, "sleep well?"

You nodded and scooted up, seated fully against his chest. Your aura pulsed sluggishly, dripping like honey. Miguel was too busy sweetly nosing your cheek to notice the hues dancing around your head. still half-asleep, you purred happily, dozing gently against his warm neck. Miguel kept up, suckling gently behind your ear and across your lips and everywhere he could reach without waking you. He could do this for hours.

The warmth was beginning to singe his hair though, and he hissed gently.

"Mi luz," he whispered, trying as gently as possible to rouse you. You whined at the wake-up, doe eyes drowsy and unfocused.

"Your halo, mi sol," he whispered, pecking your cheek, "getting a little warm is all."

you blushed, quickly dampening the shining haze of love you had blanketed over the both of you. Miguel grunted and laid his head back again. You followed suit, curling against him as close as possible.

'love you,' your lips murmured into his skin.

'mi luz,' he said reverently, and his soft mouth soothed you back to sleep.

that's all folks! might do some lil drabbles off of this but idk yet. hope you enjoyed, requests are open, ilysm xox

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @migueloharasbbm @ridiculous-hibiscus @seeeuspaceecowboyyy @neeshsoodrippedout @llumetrii @iminloveweveryone

tags, comment to join

#miguel o'hara #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #miguel x reader #miguel is a simp #cuddles #cozy #grumpy x sunshine #happy ending #drabble #x reader #sweet miguel #fanfic #spiderman atsv #atsv #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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her-power · 1 year ago

Text

The End of All Things (e.m. x fem reader)

C/W: 18++++ MDNI, I'm serious! Sweet! Eddie, smut, fluff, fingering (f receiving) oral (f+m receiving) unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!) making out, swearing, grief, hurt/comfort, parentloss, death, talk of death, best friends in love summary: This takes place 5 years after the events of S4. Midsummer 1991. Eddie & reader are in their mid twenties. Eddie is your best friend and has come to you after an unimaginable loss you just endured. You realize your feelings for him during this time, and sweetness and sexiness ensues. I originally was going for a subtle smutty-ness, but I got carried away, whoooops. (I suck at summaries, I'm so sorry)

A/N: This is based off of a life changing event that happened to me when I was seventeen. A lot of it has actual conversations/reactions from said event. This was insanely therapeutic for me to write, and I thank you all for reading this if you do, this goes out to all the ones who suffered a loss and are still actively healing. I see you, you are a rockstar and keep going <3 I also pay a little homage to Matthew Perry/Chandler Bing. I'm still not over it and Chandler will always be my comfort character like Eddie. This may have multiple parts, I also semi-proofread this, sorry for any mistakes! The title is a Panic! At the Disco song, it's been on repeat for awhile for me and I think it's perfect for this so definitely take a listen to it after you read this.

Word Count: 7.5k

“She’s gone.”

Your breath hitches as you stare at the wide amber eyes of your father from where you sat on the couch. He was clasping your hands tight as you stared at him. Your throat tightens.

“You’re lying.” A smirk tugs at your lips, this was a joke. The second those words left your lips you felt something cold creep up your spine, turning your stomach into knots.

“Honey, I’m not. She’s gone, she—”

You stand up fast, ripping your hands out of his. Your bottom lip trembles as you feel your tears burn the corners of your eyes.

“You’re lying!” You yell at him. “Where’s Mom?! Where is she?! You’re lying!”

Your father drops his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You knew he wasn’t lying; you knew it. It didn’t mean you had to believe it.

She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. Wasn’t. Dead. She’s dead.

Those words swirl in your mind as you quietly groan. Your fingers clench at the hem of your black camisole, pulling and tugging at the thin material, feeling too hot, too tight.

“N-no…” You whimper, your vision blurring as you stare at your distraught father.

Your very core burns, it stings, and you couldn’t tell if you had a heartbeat. Is that what she felt? You wonder. Hunching forward, the pain in your chest was building and building as you loudly gasp.

“Nooooooooo!” You wail loudly. You find yourself pumping your legs towards somewhere, anywhere. An escape.

The door.

You swallow back bile as you push your front door open with your shoulder, you awkwardly stumble down the front steps, and the cool midsummer air caresses your face as your feet hit the paved driveway. You gasp again, gripping at your chest, and then you scream.

You didn’t know you could make a sound like that. A sound that was full of pain, full of anger, full of a feeling of invisible hands squeezing your heart until it bursts in your chest. Your scream echoes through the quiet neighborhood; you inhale another shaky breath, nails clawing at your stomach as you wail again.

A dog barks in the distance, a porch light turns on, then another. You swear you just heard someone say your name. You lift your head to the sky; the stars were so visible and beautiful that night, looking like small freckles kissing the dark sky. Your legs tremble beneath you, they’re numb, and you feel them start to buckle-

Strong arms grab you from behind, wrapping protectively around your middle; hot breath hits the back of your neck. Cool metal from ringed fingers touches your skin, hugging your arms to your chest as you let out another heartbreaking wail.

“It’s me, it’s me, sweetheart."

Eddie. Your best friend since you moved to this shitty town ten years ago. Your sweet, chaotic, beautiful Eddie. Your legs finally give out and he gently cradles your back against his chest, resting his forehead against your bare shoulders, feeling the roughness of hard pavement as your bum hits the ground. Your head leans back against his shoulder, his curly hair tickling your cheek ever so softly.

“H-how…” You try to form words; they were caught in your throat; you weren’t even sure if you had a voice anymore.

You wanted to ask how he got to you so fast, and if he could hear you all the way from his trailer a mile away. You’re practically sitting in his lap; his calloused fingers gently smooth out your mess of waves in your hair. Your vision blurred with hot tears as you could feel the Earth shattering beneath you. His hands find your face, his fingers cup behind your ear as he turns your face to his gently. Only the soft light from the front porch light illuminated his handsome features. Eddie. Your Eddie. His big brown eyes are wide as he stares at you, he looks terrified. He has never seen you this way before. You called him a few hours ago in the afternoon to tell him your mom had to go to the hospital for an emergency surgery, that you had to stay home to wait by the phone for updates from your father and you would promise to call him when you knew more. You were supposed to go to his place to smoke some weed and order pizza, a traditional Thursday night thing for you both. You figured he probably wondered what was taking so long, it had been hours. And for as long as you have known Eddie Munson, he didn’t have much patience; it was hard for him to sit still. Your fingers twirl the ends of his hair as you try to focus on him.

“Tell me.” He says quietly.

You can already see tears forming in his eyes, and you suddenly realize this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Your noses were almost touching. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head from side to side, spitting and blubbering out more tears as the pain tightens its grip on your heart once more.

“I can’t.” You manage to gasp out. “Don’t…Eds, don’t make me say it.”

His hand cups over his mouth as he stares at you, realization settling on his face.

“No…” He inhales sharply. “No, Y/N…there’s no way.”

A memory flashes in your mind just then, a memory from only a few months ago.

You sat on the counter in the kitchen with your mom and Eddie as she made dinner. She was making his favorite chicken parmesan because it had been the five-year anniversary since he was no longer a suspect of those murders that had occurred that Spring. Your parents never believed he had anything to do with it, and it was your mother standing up for him at the town meeting that really helped his case, partially because the entire town was afraid of a hard-headed strong woman who grew up in South Boston, Massachusetts and also there was no evidence at any of the scenes of his involvement, or that he was a Satan worshipper. The other kicker was that Jason had disappeared, and everyone just assumed he did it after that. However, it didn’t stop the town from calling the cops every time they saw him walking somewhere or blasting Metallica from his speakers in his trailer. When your mom had her back turned, he attempted to stick his finger in the boiling pot of homemade meat sauce. Your mother wasn’t stupid, you swore she had eyes on the back of her head. She poked him in the side with the ladle handle, causing him to yelp.

“Come on! Just one taste! I promise I won’t ask for anymore until it’s ready. I’m STARVING.” Eddie pleaded, giving her a pathetic puppy dog look.

“Kid, get out of my kitchen. I’m not falling for that look again, I got stuck with you for ten years!” Your mother chuckles, stirring the sauce.

“You got stuck with a very handsome, talented, super funny son you always wanted! Did I mention handsome?” He towers over her and had sweetly rested his head on her shoulder, giving her a goofy grin. Your mother used the palm of her hand to push his face away and laughs.

“It’s my caring daughter’s fault for LITERALLY dragging you out of the mud that summer.”

Eddie looks at you, his smile reaching his eyes. “Yeah, your daughter is pretty awesome.”

He winks at you, and you roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Don’t kiss my ass, Munson.” Your mom laughs. “I’m sending you home a plate for your uncle, and you better give it to him this time!"

“He politely declined!”

“No he didn’t, you ate it on the way there!” You banter back at him. He whips his head around to look at you, his face falling in mock betrayal.

“You are not my best friend anymore!” He wraps an arm around your mom’s shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “She’s my best friend now!”

You roll your eyes and laugh, hopping off the counter and making your way back to your room, but not before hearing your mother say this to Eddie:

"Everyone is out of their damn mind for not getting to know you or love you like we do. Jokes aside, honey, I can never ever replace your own mother, but I will make damn sure that you know that you can always come to me for anything.”

“Awww, Mrs. Y/L/N. Don’t make me blush-ow!” He laughs, you’re guessing she pinched him.

“I’m serious, Munson.”

“I know, I know.” You can hear the smile in his tone. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

You stare him now; he’s trying so hard not to cry.

“Fuck.” His voice shakes and he pulls you into his arms for a hug.“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his Motley Crue t-shirt. Your mouth muffled by his shoulder.

“I’m sorry too.” You whimper. He hugs you tighter, and you can’t help but completely melt into his arms.

Your father had left the house the same night. Your mom’s brother lived an hour away, who was completely beside himself over the loss of his little sister. You could see that your father was exhausted, that he was tired of making fall calls and answering the phone. You could tell he wanted to go see his brother-in-law. He was already talking about arrangements, and you pretty much forced him to go see your uncle, that the arrangements could wait and that everyone needed to clear their head because she had just died. You assured him that Eddie didn’t plan on going anywhere and that she wasn’t going to be alone, that Wayne was aware of what had happened and knew where he was.

You sat on the floor of your living room an hour after your father had left. The rotary phone was at your hip, the receiver at your ear before you slammed it down and yanked the cord from the wall. You were over the phone calls too. The cops were called, apparently a neighbor had saw Eddie “lurking” around your house and assumed that was the cause of your screaming. You were too pissed, too grief stricken, too exhausted to bite your tongue. You had snapped at Office Hopper, but as always, he handled your snapping as graciously as he always did.

“Who was it?” You snapped. “Mrs. Hansen, right? That bitch always had a problem with us because my mother was so outspoken. She could never say shit to her face but would say it to our other neighbors. Well, guess what Kathy! SHE’S DEAD NOW!” You scream out your front door, Eddie’s hands were on your shoulders, gently pulling you back in the doorway.

“Easy, easy.” He mutters in your ear.

“Y/N. There’s no need to yell, I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss, but when we get a call that is concerning like that, we have—"

“Why is he still being targeted as the town freak? He has done nothing wrong, ever! We’re not in school anymore, we’re practically grown-ups. We work, we play nerdy games, and we listen to music. Come on, Hop. You know she didn’t call over concern for me. She hates me.”

Hopper sighs, taking off his hat. “You have to be respectful to your neighbors. You know this. Especially…” He lowers his voice and leans closer to you. “Especially the ones who call when a cat shits on their lawn.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and your face softens.

“Get some rest kid. Let us know if you need anything.” He glances at Eddie. “Take care of her, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know Hop. Thanks.” He says softly.

You shut the door quietly and lock it. You glance at the clock, not believing it was after midnight. You comb your fingers through your knotted hair.

“I’m going to wash up. I need to scrub this fucking night off me.”

He nods at you, and you gently squeeze his hand as you walk by him into the bathroom. Eddie watches as you walk away, his breath hitching as soon as you close the bathroom door. He runs his hands through his hair and shudders. Eddie was usually pretty good with his words, most of the time he could never stop talking, but tonight, he had none. He had no idea how to comfort you, he had no idea what to say, or what to do. He loved your mother. That woman took him in like her own with no questions asked and it got to a point where Wayne would offer her money, which she would always refuse. She was the only one besides Wayne to defend him after the murders and all the bullshit with Hellfire. You had told him that Hopper had to practically restrain her from punching one of the mechanics who wanted to go on a witch hunt to find you; you told him you had never seen Hopper so scared for another human being. Eddie has tears form in his eyes and he quickly swallows them back, groaning quietly from the stinging and aching in his chest. Your mother treated him like a son, and he knows he would never feel that again and that hurt. It also hurt that Eddie had never told her how he felt about you, how for so many years he would be brave enough to pull her aside and say something but would pussy out last minute. Eddie wanted your mother’s approval. It had been like that for ten years. Yeah, he slept around, wasn’t a virgin by any means, but none of them ever stuck. All those girls, those women, he always wished it was you. He loved you; he loved you so much, but now, he wasn’t sure if he could ever tell you.

You peel off your clothes after you begin filling the bath, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You look like you aged fifteen years in a few hours. Blood shot eyes, hair a wild mess, cheeks crimson from all the screaming and tears. You sigh as you step into the bath, the water hot and you wince as you feel every muscle unclench as you slide into the porcelain, until just your head is exposed above the water. You stare up at the tile on the ceiling, marking each corner that had cobwebs that you made a mental note to clean. You close your eyes, inhaling a breath as you sink your whole face under the water. The sounds are muffled, the sound of the faucet still filling the tub vibrates around you. You wonder what it felt like, what she felt. Did her heart stop first? Or her brain? Did she know she was going to die? You open your eyes underwater, your chest clenches again and you stop holding your breath. Your mother’s lifeless face flashes in your mind and you gasp in water, quickly lifting yourself up, knocking over the shampoo bottles. You sputter and cough out the water you had just inhaled. Tears spring to your eyes and you begin to sob and suddenly felt so, so alone.

“Eddie.” You groan out, but your voice felt small. “Eddie!” You call again, the tears still spilling.

You hear a shuffling of footsteps outside the bathroom door, and a soft knock. “Are you alright in there?”

You had forgotten you were naked and submerged in water as you lean forward to turn the faucet off. You felt insanely vulnerable, but you needed to clean yourself up. You just didn’t want to be alone. You bring your knees up to your chest, resting your cheek on your knee, doing your best to cover your breasts and torso. The lower half of your body was hidden by the soap bubbles.

“You can come in.” You tell him meekly, wiping away the hot tears.

You knew he hesitated, it took him a few moments to respond. “Are-are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need…I just need someone in here with me.”

The latch on the door clicks open, and he slowly pushes it open with his toe. His eyes were already averted to the ceiling as he walked in, trying his best to be respectful.

“You can look at me, Eddie. It’s okay.” Wow, you thought to yourself, you were feeling brave.

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he meets your eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when he could only see your bare shoulders, legs and back. He sits on the floor next to the bathtub, leaning his back against the wall and looks at the side of your face.

“Talk to me.” He says sweetly, resting his chin against the lip of the porcelain.

He watches you make the washcloth swim back and forth in front of you, and he gently leans towards your hands, taking the cloth from you. He waits for you to say something, but you don’t. He takes the small bottle of body wash and squirts a glob of it on the cloth, gently massaging it into the fabric. Your heart was racing, and you hear him inhale a shaky breath. He kneels up a little, the warm washcloth hits your skin so gently as he carefully traces circles around your shoulders. You shudder, a warmness settling in your tummy.

“What am I gonna do?” You say quietly, tears burn your eyes again and you groan, you were tired of the tears.

Eddie swallows hard, gently moving a piece of your hair back to wash your neck. This felt foreign to you, this semi-erotic moment of him touching you like this, so sweetly, so gently. Your Eddie.

“I don’t know.” He says to you. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

You lift your head to look at him, seeing a blush creeping up as the hills of your breasts are exposed. You watch him as he concentrates on your back, gently moving the cloth up your neck, your eyes flutter close. He dips the washcloth in the water and squeezes out the excess, pausing before moving his way towards your lower back.

“You know whatever you need, I’m here. Okay?” He tells you and you nod. He gently wipes away an exposed tear from your cheek. “You’re kind of stuck with me at this point.”

Your face scrunches up in mock annoyance and he laughs, you chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

He's looking into your eyes now and your eyes dart to his lips, before looking back into his eyes. He quickly glances away to finish washing your back and you turn your body towards him so suddenly, water splashes up and he drops the washcloth. You don’t know where this feeling came from, how you just wanted to continue to be touched by him, be loved by him. Was it the grief? You weren’t sure, but you sure as hell wanted to feel something else besides the fucking horrendous pain. Your hands are on his shoulders, the wetness from you dampened the ends of his hair as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, his hands reaching up to cup your wrists.

You could tell he didn’t want to overstep, and he kept his eyes just on you, your eyes. He was a gentleman in all the right ways; but he desperately wanted to look at your body. You were fully exposed to him besides your lower half, and he had dreamt of a moment like this. Your hands touch his cheeks, your nose barely grazes his.

“Kiss me, please?” You say quietly, and his breath hitches.

His hand cups the back of your wet hair, pulling you towards him slightly as your breathing picks up. You could feel him tremble as you lean closer, your breasts pressing against the coolness from the porcelain, your nipples hardening at the contact. You push your mouth onto his, his plush lips as soft as you imagined they would be. He uses his other hand to cup your neck, you opened his mouth with yours, feeling his tongue enter your mouth so carefully. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing Eddie. Your Eddie.

You wrap both arms around his shoulders, and his hands wraps around your middle. He was getting comfortable, years and years of his love for you was spilling out in this exact moment. You feel him lift you so easily out of the tub, awkwardly stumbling into the wall. Not realizing how strong he was, he grabs your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You could feel his clothes soaking from the contact of your wet skin and could feel the wetness that pooled between your legs as he kept kissing you, blindly searching for the handle of the door. The cool air from the living room air conditioner hits your bare skin, causing gooseflesh to prickle all over you. You push your body against his more, deepening the kiss and he groans, bumping into everything you both contacted. Pictures became crooked on the walls, you heard something tip over from a few of the shelves, and you finally make it to your bedroom door. Your back hits it a little roughly, and he pulls away from you to catch his breath before pressing his mouth to yours again and he finds the doorknob with one hand as the other continues to hold you up. You both fall to your bed with an oomph, you start laughing hard because your head had clunked against the headboard, and he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.” He breathes out, pulling away from your lips and laughs. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You smile at him and nod, your lips pulsating from the kissing. He smiles down at you, rubbing your cheek, your hair, his hand gently smooths its way down your bare arms, towards your hips. He’s still looking at you, wanting to make sure it was okay for him to really see you before going further. You rub his cheek, and he leans into it, gently kissing your palm as he hovers above you. He was still trembling, and you take his hand, placing it on your skin below your breast. His calloused fingers squeeze the spot gently, his fingers barely grazing the underside of it as you watch his throat bob. He leans towards you and kisses your lips gently, leaning back on his heels as his eyes dart over your body. You bend your knees ever so slightly; he places his hands on your knees and kneels between your legs. He lets out a sigh and smiles sweetly at you and pulls off his shirt. His fingers trace a soft line over your ribs, he makes circles over your navel, the soft skin at your hips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers to you, he chuckles awkwardly. “I mean, you’ve always been beautiful to me, not that just your body is beautiful. Your face is beautiful too, and your heart. All of you, everything—”

“Eddie, take a deep breath.” You smile, moving your palm up his torso and cupping his cheek.

He laughs, inhaling deeply, and places both hands on the side of your head as he leans down, your legs wrap around his jeans, feeling his eager bulge through the zipper. He kisses you softly, pulling away to look into your eyes. You could see tears form at the corners of eyes and you hold his face in your hand.

“What? What is it?”

He sighs, leaning up on his elbow. “For so many years, I wanted to tell your mom something that had been eating at me.” He groans, a single tear falls down his cheek and you wipe it away. “I wanted to tell her how insanely in love with you I was…I am.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, your heart does a back flip, and you feel your own tears prickle your eyes.

“I know it doesn’t mean much now, because she’s gone…fuck.” More tears spill from his eyes, you wipe them away, he holds your hand to his cheek. “I loved her. I loved her so much and she became a mother to me at a time when I really needed her, and she always told me I could tell her anything. I should’ve told her how I felt about you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how much he really did love your mom. Their relationship was for sure that of a mother and son. He had called her one night from the Hideout in the middle of the night because he got into a fight with a stupid townie and she’d bring him back to your house, cleaning up his wounds and comforting him. One night he had fallen asleep on your couch from a night of too much drinking, and she tucked him in, placing a large cooking pot next to him in case he had to puke. She would do so many motherly things for him that he wasn’t used to, and once he was finally comfortable enough to accept those gestures, he felt like a little boy again. You bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling and you give him a smile.

“I think she knew.” You curl your fingers through his hair.

“How?” He asks you.

“I never really thought much about it at the time, but she would throw subtle ‘son in law’ jokes at me and I would just ignore her. Because you were my best friend, there was no way you’d feel any other way than that. Or so I thought.”

You trace an outline on his lips with your finger. “You love me?”

He nods, not bothering to wipe another stray tear away. “More than you know.”

“I love you, too.” You tell him softly and he smiles.

“Yeah? You sure?”

You roll your eyes, tugging a piece of his hair and he yelps. “Don’t make me take it back.”

He laughs, caressing your face with the back of his hand, smoothing out your wet hair. He leans down, kissing you softly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him onto you, he lets out a hot breath as you push your tongue in his mouth. His hands travel down the dip in your shoulder, down the middle of your chest and stops on the curve of your breast. You feel the coolness of his metal ring against your skin, your nipple hardens, and you gasp in his mouth when you feel his fingers gently pinch the hardened bud. His mouth finds your throat, leaving kissing trails down to your shoulders, still pinching and squeezing your breasts as you squirm beneath him. His mouth takes your nipple in his mouth, and you hear him softly moan as he gently bites down. His tongue swirls around the bud and sucks, and you arch your back. His hand travels down your navel and over your sex. You whimper when you feel his fingers spread your lips apart and he runs a finger over your clit. He pulls away from your breast and kisses you hungrily, his fingers tracing circles around your clit, pushing down and he smirks against your lips when you let out a loud moan. No one has ever taken their time with you; you have only had sex with two men in your life and it was always you finishing them off first and them being “too tired” to return the favor. Eddie knew what he was doing, you knew this wasn’t his first rodeo, and you desperately wanted to know what else he could do. He pulls away from your lips, licking and kissing a trail all the way down to your navel. He leans back on his heels, and your eyes widen at the outline of his hardened cock beneath his jeans. He places his fingers in his mouth, sucking off the taste of you and you squirm at how sexy he looked. You bend your knees and open your legs wider.

“Damn.” He mutters, scooting back to lay in front of your dripping cunt. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to his face. “You really are beautiful.”

He kisses your clit gently, you arch your back, gripping at the sheets beneath you. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nerves, and he sucks on it, letting out a loud groan. It vibrated your entire body, and you moan. His fingers press into the meat of your thighs as he buries his face closer, his tongue lapping at your hole as you could already feel yourself about to burst. You grip his hair, tugging on it hard, which sends him into a frenzy, and you feel two fingers slide their way into you.

“Eddie…”

You moan his name, and he begins to pump those fingers into you, pressing against the sponginess of your g-spot. He continues to devour your clit and you lean up on your elbows to watch him. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe that your best friend of ten years was doing these things to you. Your Eddie. He pulls away from your clit, feeling you clench around his fingers, and he slinks his way back up your body, his chin wet and dripping of you. He kisses you passionately, you moan at the taste of yourself, and he continues pumping his fingers in and out. His thumb finds your clit and rubs circles, you hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you, feeling yourself close to release. He pulls away from your lips for a moment.

“Come on, baby. I know you can cum for me.” His voice was lower, almost deeper.

Those words almost sent you over the edge, words you never in a million years thought would come out of his mouth. He pumps harder and groans as your hand finds his cock through his jeans and you rub your hand over the material. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and he lets out a hot breath against your neck, whimpering at the sheer intensity and passion.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

You moan out in pleasure and he groans against your neck. You feel the pressure building and building in your lower belly and you cling onto him as your orgasm rips through you and you cry out. He keeps his fingers inside of you, riding the orgasm out with you, the overstimulation was insanely uncomfy but as he kept pumping into you, you eased into another hard orgasm and your body shook beneath him. He slides his fingers out of you, you catch your breath as you continue to cling onto him. His hands grip your hip, and he looks at you, a smile creeping on his lips. You sigh, crashing your lips against his, unbuttoning his jeans hurriedly and sliding them off. His lips graze against your ear lobe and you roll him onto his back with your legs and he giggles. You laugh, kissing his lips, his neck and you lean up on your heels. His hands hold onto your hips. The length of him was almost intimidating, you bite your bottom lip and take him in your hands, gently moving your fist up and down. He lets out a deep groan and his eyes squeeze shut, arching his back. You rub his precum over his tip and he shivers, you move your head towards his cock and glance up at him. He looks at you with half lidded eyes and you lick a long strip from the base all the way to the tip, taking him into your mouth.

“Oh…oh my, unghhh—”

A loud, throaty moan escapes him, surprising you both and you both laugh. He covers his face with both his hands shyly, slightly embarrassed by the sound he just made. You kiss his tip, licking down his shaft and he whimpers. He grips the back of your head as you bob up and down, taking him all in, rubbing his balls to get him to squirm. He let out a low growl, a sound so animalistic and sexy you couldn’t believe you were the cause. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to be inside you and couldn’t wait any longer. He pulls at your hair, lifting your head up, your lips were swollen and wet with spit.

“Come here.” He says breathlessly. “Now.”

You crawl up to him, his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. You were trembling now as you lined yourself up with his length. He cups the back of your head, sweetly pecking your lips as his other hand grips at your hips. You keep your face close to his, your lips barely touching as you lower yourself onto his cock. He squeezes your hips, throwing his head back into the pillow and lets out a throaty groan. You whimper as you take him all in, slowly rocking your hips to get used to the size of him as he stretches you out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers to you, lifting his arm up to cup your cheek.

You nod, pleasure was building in your belly as you grind against him, your clit rubs generously on his pelvis. You look into his eyes, running your hand up his chest, over his tattoos, tracing his lips with your fingers. You insert two fingers into his mouth, which he takes willingly and sucks. You move your hips up and then down, hard. His moan vibrates on your fingers as you rock faster against him; you remove your fingers and begin playing with yourself with that same hand as he watches you in awe. He arches his hips into you, and you cry out, your head falling back, he caresses and pinches your nipples. You lean forward, using the headboard as support to continue your movement. His tongue traces circles around your nipple, sucking hard and squeezing both with his hands. He moves onto the next one, you moan louder into his ear, and he grabs your ass, burying his cock deeper into you.

In one swift motion, he flips you on your back. His eyes stare into your soul, and you kiss him. He kisses you back with the same hungriness from earlier, taking your leg and moving it onto his shoulder as he thrusts into you. An insanely pornographic sound escapes your lungs, and he smiles against your lips. He leans up slightly to stare at your face, you were biting your bottom lip, and your eyes burn into him, and he could feel his heart growing bigger and bigger for you in that moment. You grab his perfect ass with your legs to push him further into you and he arches back; your lips go to his throat, gently nibbling on it and licking all over. Your orgasm was building in your belly, and by the way he was slowing down and getting a little clumsy, he was close too.

You pull his face towards you by the back of his head. “Fuck me.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

His beautiful brown eyes dilate, and you see the pure lust take over in his stare. He leans back on his heels, pulling himself out of you and you frown, he pulls you towards him hard by your thighs, his fingers for sure going to leave lovely bruises. But you didn’t care. Before you could make another comment, he slams his cock into you, and you scream out. He holds onto your hips, rolling his against yours at a hard pace, you swear you could see all the fucking colors of the rainbow.

“Fuuuuck…” He moans out. “Oh fuck-I’m gonna—”

“Don’t stop, Eddie.” You whimper, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over was making you forget your name.

You move your hands down and find your clit, rubbing vigorously against it as your cunt clenches against his cock. He watches you rub yourself, a smile toys on his lips as he stares in wonder at you, he felt as if he was fucking a goddess.

“Oh god…”

“Cum with me, baby. I want to feel you.”

He groans loud, and that was enough to send you screaming, and crying out his name as you came all over his cock. You grip the sheets under you, still cumming hard and he slams faster into you, the bed squeaks and the headboard bangs into the wall and he sputters.

“Oh…my…unnngh.”

He slams into you once more, you could feel the warmness settle in your cunt as he came inside you, feeling his cock twitching as he slowed his pace and cried out, collapsing onto your chest. He rolls his hips against you and shudders. The two of you lay there in a pile of limbs, heavy breathing, and sweat. He lifts his head up to look at you, smoothing out your still wet hair, and presses his lips to yours. Your tongue goes into his mouth, and he moans softly, cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss. He slides out of you gently, and pulls away from you, laying on his back. His hand rested on your thigh, and you could feel him dripping from you; you needed a minute. Or several.

“Well,” he says breathlessly. “I’ve never done that with you before.”

You weakly slap his chest and laugh loudly; tears prickle your eyes as you feel another laugh roll out until you’re full-blown cackling. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you laugh harder. He shakes his head, laughing with you, turning onto his side to rub your tummy gently. Your laugh was one of the things he loved about you because it was so contagious, and that this was the first time today he could see pure happiness on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, your laugh still rolling out of you. “I don’t know why I’m laughing so hard. Oh wait, I do, you’re a fucking idiot and I love you.”

He laughs, kissing your cheek. “No going back now.”

“No.” You say, catching your breath, bringing your palm up to his cheek. “Never.”

He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your neck and leans up on his elbows. “My clothes are soaked.”

“I’ll put them in the wash.” You kiss his nose, slowly sitting up in bed, you could already feel the soreness between your legs. “I’m pretty sure my mom folded a bunch of your clothes you left here the other day.” You pause and turn to look at him.

“Of course she did.” He says with a sweet smile, tracing your spine with the tip of his finger. “Do you want me to go get them?”

You knew he only asked because the washer and dryer were in her little den with her vanity mirror.

“Uh, no. It’s okay.” You give him a smile. You go into your dresser, pulling out underwear and your oversized Queen tour t-shirt you got in 1987. Your mom had bought the tickets for you and Eddie; Eddie was indeed a total metal head, but he had a soft spot for Queen, probably because you loved them so much. You throw on the clothes and turn when you feel his eyes on you.

“What?” You ask, a blush creeping up on your cheeks as you stare at his naked body.

His right arm, which was covered in a full tattoo sleeve, was bent behind his head as he looks at you.

“Nothing.” He smiles sweetly. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Around us.”

You lean over to him to kiss him, he holds your head,, leaving lots of pecks around your cheeks and lips, causing you to giggle. You pull away, turning around to grab his mess of clothes on the floor, throwing his dry boxers to him. He takes this opportunity to smack your ass and you yelp. You narrow your eyes at him, and pull out his chain wallet, snapping it open, pulling out some cash, you could only make out a few ten-and one-dollar bills.

“I’m taking this.” You tell him, shoving the bills into your underwear.

“Pretty cheap date, don’t ya think?” He laughs, pulling his boxers over his hips as your face falls into mock shock, you pull out the cash and throw it at his face, causing him to laugh harder.

You shake your head, leaving the room, heading towards your mother’s den. You slow your walking down as you meet the closed door. The grief starts to creep up again, your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob. You twist the knob and push it open. An aroma of peach, rose and slight Sandalwood hit your nostrils and you have to hold onto the wall for support, blindly finding the light switch. The light is bright, and you squint, your eyes already filling with tears as the scent of your mother was everywhere in this room. Her vanity sat perched against the wall, the wood was a soft amber color. She had rebuilt this vanity after getting it from a garage sale a few years ago. You gently run your hand over the fabric of her sweater that hung behind the chair she always sat at; whether to do her make up, or randomly sketch some drawings in her sketch book. You pull your hand away as if burned, and you quickly go to the washing machine, tossing Eddie’s clothes in as well as some dirty ones that were in the basket. You see his folded clothes on top of the dryer, your heart hurt with how right you were and how she would never fold his clothes again. You groan, looking over the clothes, sniffling. You take out his Metallica tour t-shirt, and his black jeans. You exit her room after shutting off the light and quietly shut the door. Eddie was strumming at your acoustic as you walk back in, smiling at you at you hand him the clothes. He sees the tears in your eyes and immediately puts the guitar back on the stand.

He takes your hand, “What happened?”

You shake your head, trying to smile. “Nothing…it’s nothing. I’m okay. Can we go to bed?”

He looks you over once with concern and nods, gently kissing the top of your hand. You crawl into bed, leaning over him to turn off the light on your nightstand. You curl up next to him, burying your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you, pulling the blanket over the both of you. You feel his lips kiss your hair and you sigh. All the sadness, all the grief had fallen away as he held you and you wished you could stay like that forever.

As if the universe was working against you, you woke up screaming. You were covered in sweat and tears pooled from your eyes as a panic attack settled deep in your chest. You sat up, leaning against the headboard, bringing your knees up to your chest as you scream out a sob. Eddie had woken up immediately, feeling you thrash around before you woke up. Dawn was approaching, and he flicks the light on. He kneels in front of you, placing both of his hands on the side of your head.

“Hey, hey, look at me, I’m right here.”

The dream you had replays over and over in your head like a broken record. You let out a painful groan, holding onto your stomach as you to try to speak and to calm your breathing before you hyperventilated.

“She…she was right there. Right in front me.” You tell him, your voice choking with sobs. “Right there! She was so close to me and I tried to reach for her hand but she kept moving away from me, and I ran to her. I ran so fast, but she just kept going further and further away until I couldn’t see her. And then she was gone. She was gone.”

You cry, hard, and he takes you in his arms, hugging you as you wept. You wail and he tightens his hold on you, gently rocking you as you gripped onto his arms.

“I’m not ready for this.”

“I know.” His voice trembles, smoothing out your hair. “You don’t have to be ready for something like this.”

“Why did she leave me?” You whimper, your entire body shakes.

“Why was she taken away from us!? Oh god…”

He kisses your head, your cheek, finds your lips and kisses them softly.

“Please don’t leave me.” You choke out. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise you.”

“Don’t leave me.” You cry, holding onto him for dear life. He rocks you and you cry. You weren’t ready for the coming days, you weren’t ready to keep feeling this sorrow phone call after phone call, hug after hug, tear after tear. You weren’t ready for today. You weren’t ready for tomorrow. You weren’t ready. You weren't ready.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #Eddie Munson x smut #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x female reader

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companionjones · 4 months ago

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X Reader Masterlists

Key -A story with an indent immediately under another story is a sequel. 📬 =Request // 🌧️=Angst // 📱=Fake Text // ☁️=Fluff // ☔️=Hurt/Comfort // 📚=Series // 📝=Short // 🔥=Smut

Masterlists ~ 9-1-1 Actors Arrowverse Be More Chill The Boys (Amazon Video) Criminal Minds Disney’s Peter Pan Doctor Who Hamilton High School Musical His Dark Materials How I Met Your Mother Jack Ryan (Amazon Video) The Last of Us Les Miserables Lucifer Markiplier Marvel The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Newsies Once Upon A Time The Originals Outer Banks Panic! At The Disco >(I wrote these well before Brendon Urie was cancelled. I used to be a HUGE fan.) The Resident (FOX) Sanders Sides Saturday Night Live Shameless (US) Sherlock (BBC) StarKid Star Trek (Kelvin Timeline) Star Wars Stranger Things Supernatural Teen Wolf Twilight The Vampire Diaries Victorious The Walking Dead The West Wing The Witcher (Netflix) Miscellaneous

#companion jones #companion jones masterlists #masterlists

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year ago

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Hit and Run [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (Panic! at the Disco) Center (@hotch-girl) Right (@figdays)

Prompt: The BAU reader gets in a hit-and-run accident on the way to work, and Aaron is forced to confront his growing feelings for her. Those feelings are finally shared as the reader nearly faints on a case and Aaron is there to catch her before she falls.

Pairing: Hotch x fem reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Hurt/Comfort/fluff

Word Count: 13.5K

Content Warnings: Car accident (hit and run [reader]) cuts and bruises, second-degree burns on the legs and feet (and healing of those burns), hospitals, canon typical violence (mention of poisoning and strangulation), fainting (reader) language.

A/N: Good evening, loves! I’m so happy that this is finally finished. It turned out much longer than I had planned. But somehow I’m not surprised. There isn’t a ton of action in this story, it’s just a lot of emotional build-up that I hope pays off in the end. I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great rest of your week! Love Levi ❤️

P.S. This is not as edited as it can be. I'll do that tomorrow.

List with all stories

_y/f/s_ = your favorite song

_y/h/l_ = your hair length

_y/f/f/w_ = your favorite face wash

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/f/f_ = your favorite fruit

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/f/s_ = your favorite TV show.

_y/n_ woke to the lack of oxygen. Her vision was black, and she couldn’t breathe. _y/n_ tried to move, and that was her second mistake. As she tried to shift in what was a very uncomfortable, confined space her body protested. It was also hot, uncomfortably hot. The pain and the heat dragged a ragged breath from _y/n_. That also hurt, her ribs aching against the movement of her lungs expanding in her ribcage. _y/n_’s eyes open and the world swam in front of her. There was something white in her lap. That was all she could make out, as she blinked and saw spots. The heat on her lower legs was becoming unbearable. She groaned in pain. Why was everything hurting? What was going on? She had just been driving to work like every other day for the last two years after joining the bureau. _y/n_’s mind moved back to the early morning.

She had woken at 5:00 a.m. as normal to an alarm that she was now regretting horribly. _y/n_ could feel the approaching time change, and she knew that it would be even harder to adjust to the shorter days and possibly leave the office in darkness instead of the warmth of the dripping orange five o'clock sun. _y/n_ had set _y/f/s_ as her new alarm. Now that she had woken to it for over a week, _y/n_ realized that she might be ruining her favorite song for herself. _y/n_ had rolled over in bed and for one second, wished she was back in college when the worst thing about an alarm had been the prospect of a dreadful 8:00 a.m. algebra class. In the darkness of her room, _y/n_ finally hit stop on the alarm and got out from under the warm covers of her bed. Once her feet were on the wood floor of her bedroom, _y/n_’s natural routine kicked in. _y/n_ moved to the bathroom and turned on the light by the sink. She had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness. _y/n_ pulled her _y/h/l_ hair away from her face with a fluffy grey headband. She turned the tap to warm and waited a moment for it to heat up. After thirty seconds, _y/n_ leaned down and began raising her face with the warm water. After her face was wetted, she pumped a small bit of _y/f/fw_ into her palm and began applying and lathering it over her skin. Once _y/n_ was satisfied with the coverage, she rinsed it off completely. Lastly, she turned the knob on the sink to cold and rinsed her face once more. The cold water always had the wanted effect; finally getting her tired brain to wake up. _y/n_ padded into the kitchen and started a cup of coffee before moving back to the bedroom to change. She needed to do laundry but was avoiding it -- putting it off until the weekend. Because of this, her options were scant. She decided on a pair of loser-fitting black pants with a simple white grid pattern. She had picked them up at a thrift shop two weekends ago and thought they were a good find. _y/n_ then went to her closet and picked out a _y/f/c_ turtleneck shirt. She added a grey scarf and pulled out some thick socks and her well-worn Doc. Martins. Once the outfit and boots were on, _y/n_ moved back to the kitchen. She doctored the coffee to her liking and opened the fridge. She pulled out a yogurt cup and a piece of _y/f/f_ from the fridge. She leaned against the counter as she dipped the spoon into the yogurt. She needed to eat quickly as morning traffic was going to be hell on the way to work. It had rained the night before and the temperatures had dropped below freezing which meant slick, icy roads. After burning her tongue on the hot coffee and finishing breakfast, _y/n_ made it out to her car. She didn’t forget to grab her go bag or sidearm from its gun safe, as she locked the door behind her.

Coming back to herself, the heat on her legs was really starting to hurt and whatever adrenaline had stopped the real pain from kicking in was quickly ebbing away. _y/n_’s eyes cleared, and she came fully to her senses. She let out a cry. The deflated airbag was resting on her lap with fragments of tempered glass from the passenger side door and windshield. _y/n_ could distinctly hear her breathing. _y/n_’s left hand seemed to be pinned between her seat and the plastic padding of the interior of the car. She tried to pull the appendage free but it was struck. _y/n_ could move her fingers at least which was a good sign. _y/n_ was sure there was some sort of fire happening near her feet and legs, and she used her right hand to clumsily push back the airbag. There was black smoke filling the cab now and there was a tongue of flame dancing near her ankles. She tried her best to pull her feet up as she coughed on the noxious fumes. The situation was becoming dire. _y/n_ started to panic as her eyes welled from the smoke. She tried to undo her seatbelt, but it was stuck. Not thinking clearly with all the pain, she tried to open the driver’s side door, but that too seemed jammed. _y/n_ pulled her turtleneck over her lips and nose and tried to undo the seatbelt again. She didn’t even seem to notice as a group of strangers beat on the unbroken glass of her window to get her attention.

Emily saw the whole thing. Or almost the whole thing, as she made her way to work. The roads were crowded and people driving were either very defensive or just plain bad given the weather. Emily pulled on the main drive to work and saw _y/n_’s car in front of her. Em had considered tapping her horn to say hello but decided against it. They would be together in the office in about ten minutes anyway. As they moved down the road toward the intersection that led to the FBI field office, a car merged into the lane in front of Emily, dangerously. At this, she did honk her horn once and thought, ‘Jerk,’ as the sedan slightly blocked her view of _y/n_’s car. The light, which was notoriously fast, turned green and Emily inched forward. The light was turning yellow as Prentiss approached the intersection, and _y/n_ was halfway through the four-lane street with her blinker on to turn left. There was no way that _y/n_ could see the truck coming from the other side of the intersection. The large vehicle was speeding down the slippery road and ran straight passed the red light and into _y/n_’s car. Emily couldn’t tear her eyes away as the metal collided. Prentiss watched as _y/n_’s body was violently pushed to the side. The sound of the metal crunching and glass breaking had Emily’s nerves standing on end. _y/n_’s car and the truck slid a foot to the edge of the highway curb. There was a moment of silence as if Emily were waiting for something else to happen. The truck didn’t seem that damaged apart from a large dent to the hood, and it roared back to life loudly. The tires squealed against the ice as it backed up and then, very quickly sped down the street. Em memorized the plate number and then pulled forward into the intersection. Prentiss sent up a silent prayer that everyone else on the road had stopped and that another car hadn’t been involved in the crash. Em flicked on her hazards and jumped out of her car. Two other vehicles had done the same thing as her and a large man was already at the door of _y/n_’s car trying to open and free the agent trapped inside. Then there was a petite woman with her phone to her ear speaking to 9-1-1. Em overheard the woman say, “No, we’re trying to get her out of the car now. She’s moving around in there. Yes, yes. It’s the intersection of Neville Road and Barnett Avenue. Because Emily was assured the paramedics were on their way, she moved toward the heavily dented call. She called a number one on speed dial as she got to the wreck.

Aaron had gotten to the office early. When didn’t he? He was normally the first one in and the last one out. No matter how he cut it, either as he found his job important, or that he hardly had a life outside of work -- apart from Jack -- at least his extended hours at the bureau kept him from his empty apartment. When he was there, and Hailey had Jack during the week, it felt all too still. All too lifeless for his liking. At least he got to do some of the more bureaucratic brain-rotting mundane paperwork the job entailed from the team. He could often be found late at night in his office filling out the basic forms for his team over and over and over again in his neat blocky handwriting. So far it was only he and Mogan in the office, Derek was moving toward his desk, and Aaron turned to do the same. In half an hour he was going to meet with JJ to see about the next case for the team. Just as he settled into his swivel chair that hurt his back if he sat in it too long, he heard Derek shout his name. There was a distress in its tone. A sharp “Aaron!” that he rarely if ever had heard from Morgan before. He was on his feet and out of his office in an instant. He flew down the stairs. Morgan was already on the move toward the elevators and Hotch jogged to make up the distance and asked as he moved down the hall, “Morgan, what is it?” Derek turned to Aaron and said, “_y/n_ got in a hit and run on Barnett. Emily just called me. She’s already there.” Hearing this made Hotch’s stomach feel like it was suddenly being squeezed by an iron fist. His heart dropped as the worst possible scenarios flicked in front of his mind. Aaron hurriedly asked, “Is she okay? What did Emily say!” The urgency in his voice probably gave away that he was incredibly concerned for his younger agent’s safety. Perhaps more concerned than a boss should be about his employees. Hotch could see that Derek had caught what he was thinking, but he couldn’t fucking care. Not when he was imagining _y/n_ bleeding out, or already dead in front of him. He couldn’t bear it, so he repeated his question. Finally, Morgan snapped back to himself and as the elevator moved to the ground floor, he replied, “Em says she’s awake but trapped in the car and there’s a smoke filling the cab.” Hotch gritted his teeth, as he nodded along. Smoke meant fire, and fire meant possible combustion. Aaron wished the damn elevator moved faster. When they got to the bottom floor, he and Morgan sprinted past Spencer, Rossi, and JJ who were waiting to pass through security. Spencer asked, “What’s going on?” Morgan shouted back, “_y/n_’s hurt.” Derek’s car was the closest to the pair, and they both got in. Derek moved out of the lot as quickly as he could without speeding or getting himself and Hotch in an accident of their own with the roads as they were. When they got closer to the intersection, the cars were backed up down the road. Aaron looked at Morgan and Derek could see the desperation in his colleague's face. Morgan said, “Jump out. I’ll pull over and be there in a minute.” Aaron nodded and moved out into the bitterly cold air. Hotch nearly ate it twice on the slick concrete. He couldn’t care, he’d crawl on his hands and knees to get to _y/n_. Hotch could hear the peal of sirens in the distance. When he got to the scene, there was an assembled crowd. He elbowed his way to the front. He was relieved to see _y/n_ was out of her car. But the crumpled wreck of metal didn’t much calm his mind. _y/n_ had been pulled twenty or so feet away from the damaged vehicle.

Emily saw Hotch ran, and nearly tumbled, as he got a foot away from _y/n_. Prentiss felt better now that he was here. Em knew that _y/n_ and Hotch had something going on, or at least they both wanted to have something going on. The whole team saw it as a matter of fact. The issue was that neither Aaron nor _y/n_ had caught on. Or if they had, both parties weren’t acting on the feelings between the two of them. Hotch fell to his knees next to Emily. Prentiss was holding _y/n_’s hand. Prentiss sort of handed over _y/n_’s hand to him. Aaron didn’t even think as he took it and held it close in both his hands. Subconsciously, he drew _y/n_’s hand close to his chest, his heart. He was leaning over her, trying to ascertain the damage to her body. Her level of pain. When _y/n_ felt a new set of hands, a familiar set of hands resting around hers, she opened her eyes. Everything was bleary, swimming in front of her. But even with her compromised vision, she knew it was Aaron beside her. His broad shoulder and soft touch were all she needed to know that it was him. _y/n_ thought that she’d know him with less information than that. She believed that she could be blinded and deaf and she’d still know it was him if he walked into her room. _y/n_ tried to turn her head to the side to see his face better, but the man that had ended up dragging her body out of the driver’s side window which Emily had shot out with her sidearm, stopped her movement. There was a painfully loud explosion from _y/n_’s car as it finally combusted. The fire had reached the fuel tank and even though they were far enough away from the car to not be burned, the whole group could feel the heat radiate out from the flaming car. At the noise and heat, Hotch protectively moved his body over _y/n_’s. The loud sound had _y/n_ whimper, and Aaron wasn’t sure he could take hearing _y/n_ like this. Aaron didn’t even realize that the fire trucks, police cruisers, and ambulances had arrived. The sound of their siren was not registering to him, as he only had thoughts for _y/n_. Morgan and the firemen telling the assembled crowd to move back finally brought him back to himself.

Aaron shifted up as two EMTs ran over to them. Hotch reluctantly let go of _y/n_’s hand and moved back to make room for the two men who now had taken his and Prentiss’s places. One of the EMTs pulled out a penlight. _y/n_’s eyes didn’t follow the light. They drifted, and her pupils were dilated. Meanwhile, the other, leaner EMT was looking at _y/n_’s legs. The man had pushed up _y/n_’s pants up to her knees. Aaron looked at the angry red skin on her legs. At some point _y/n’s shoes had been taken off and Hotch noticed there was a small hole in her sock near her big toe. All Aaron seemed to be able to do at the moment was notice small details about _y/n_. Like how her watch face was cracked. How _y/n_’s speech was slurred as the paramedic asked her if she remembered what had happened. It seemed that _y/n_ did, just struggled to get the words out as she said, “Hit ‘an run. Big.” She swallowed painfully and continued, “Truck. Grey green… light.” Aaron suddenly became poignant about Emily being near him again as he felt her gaze linger on him. He turned and looked at Prentiss. Aaron asked, “What happened exactly?” Emily swallowed, as she watched _y/n_ squirm under the hand of the leaner paramedic who was pressing down on her blistering legs. Once Em had composed herself a bit, she said, “Well _y/n_ was one car in front of me. The light turned green. She did everything right, obviously. This guy, I’ve got his plate number and everything was driving a Ford F-350. And it was grey. The guy hit her on the driver's side. He was out of control maybe. He just barreled into her. I couldn’t guess the speed he was going. If the dude had been out of control when he crashed into _y/n_, he most certainly intentionally left without getting out and checking on _y/l/n_.” Hotch nodded and said, “Alright. Well, call Pen about the license plate. She’s sure to be in her office right now. I’m sure she’s called all of us at least twenty times by now. She’ll be relieved to hear from any of us.” Prentiss nodded her assent and moved to get her phone from her back pocket.

Aaron watched the paramedics move _y/n_ onto a waiting stretcher. As they lifted her up, Hotch turned to the larger man and said, “Can I ride with you to the hospital? Where are you taking her?” The man looked at Aaron intently and said, “Rockingham Memorial. Are you her husband? Partner.” Hotch cleared his throat for a moment, as his heart stuttered in his chest, and said, “I’m her boss. She’s a federal agent.” Aaron flashed his badge at the man, and the EMT took a second to look at the badge and Hotch over once. The EMT nodded and said “Alright. We’re going to load her in and then you can sit in the bench seat.” Hotch nodded as the seasoned medical professionals easily transported, wheeled, and lifted _y/n_ into the back of the waiting ambulance. Once the more built man was inside and locking the gurney in place, as well as placing one restraining strap around _y/n_’s waist. Hotch sat on the edge of the small seat. The EMT radiated the other man and said. “We can get moving, Stan.” There was a static and Stan replied, “Roger that. Headed to Rockingman, John.” With that, the large vehicle started moving down the road. John started by pulling out the pressure cuff and placing it around _y/n_’s arm. The man checked in, making sure his patient was still with them, even if not fully present. John asked, “How are you feeling? What’s your pain level on a scale from one to five.” John held up his hands, indicating one and five. Aaron focused in on her, as she said, “I don’t feel anything really. I’m just cold. So cold.” John nodded and moved to the front of the space. The man pulled out an emergency blanket and spread it over _y/n_’s form before he started pumping the pressure cuff to see what her blood pressure was. When the man had taken the reading, he jotted down the number, the EMT looked to Aaron, who was clearly upset, and said, “She’s most likely in shock. Both from the cold and what she’s been through in the last hour. Right now it looks like a mild concussion, some; burns to the legs, lacerations from the glass, and bruising to the body. Given the state of her car and how charred it was, I think we can find _y/n_ very lucky to have so fortunate an outcome. She very well might have died in her car as it caught fire.” Again all Aaron could do was nod along because there was nothing else for him to do but wait to hear more, from the hospital, Garcia, or _y/n_ herself. Hotch knew that he was going to have to think long and hard about what this whole incident meant to him. How he had reacted on pure instinct. How he couldn’t stop himself from seeming composed as he learned that _y/n_ had been hurt. How he had pictured her dead, lifeless body in front of him. How that was the worst thing he could possibly imagine at the moment. But for now, he would wait. Try to be present to _y/n_’s needs. There would be time to think later. Quickly the ambulance rushed to the hospital and when it arrived, Hotch jumped out and made way for the EMTs to lift _y/n_ down and out of the truck. As Hotch watched the men wheel her away to a space he didn’t have access to, John said, “You can go to the front of the hospital and check-in. A nurse will be with you when there’s news on _y/n_’s condition.”

Once Aaron had checked in at the front desk, he paced around the waiting room. Hotch pulled out his phone for the first time in an hour and found thirsty missed calls from Gacia, and three texts from Derek, Rossi, and Emily asking where _y/n_ had been taken. Hotch told Morgan the name of the hospital and what John’s preliminary assessment of _y/n_ had been in the ambulance. He was sure Derek would spread the word to everyone else. Once he ended the call with Morgan, who assured him he, Emily, and Rossi were headed over once they had finished speaking with the police. Next, to keep himself busy, Hotch called Garica. Penelope picked up on the first ring, and even though she said, “Office of Supreme Intelligence, to whom am I speaking?” Aaron could hear the strain in her voice. Aaron replied, “It’s Hotch. Got a read on that license plate yet?” There was a squeaky sound as Penelope moved in her swivel chair. Her tone was now determined as she stated, “I do. Plate number 7PN-G542 belongs to Mr. Paul Wilson of South Carolina. The man is squeaky clean. It appears he’s done nothing wrong in his life. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the guy we’re looking for.” Hotch asked, “Why’s that?” Penelope was typing away wildly, as she replied, “Well Mr. Wilson is Cuban American and the man Emily described was white. Also, there’s a report out for that truck's plate reporting it being stolen two days ago from a lot in South Carolina. So…” Hotch breathed a sigh and said, “Alright. Well, the report’s out there, at least there’s that.” There was a moment of silence before Garcia asked, “How is _y/n_? Em said she looked pretty bad. Did the paramedics say anything else in the ride to the hospital?” Aaron was still pacing but stopped for a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. Everything felt like it was happening so fast and yet so slow. He looked at his watch, it had only been fifteen minutes since he had gotten here. He had no idea how long it would be until someone came to tell him more information about _y/n_. He exhaled and replied to Garcia’s question saying, “There’s not much more to add from what Morgan told you. The EMT said she was most likely in shock, but she stayed conscious the whole ride over. _y/n_ was a bit loopy though, speaking with slurred speech, and long pauses, but the EMTs seemed to think she would be alright. Of course, only time can tell.” Hotch let the last line slip and realized how strange that sounded coming from someone like him. He repeated the line in his head, ‘Only time can tell.’ How cliche he reflected. Time would tell, time was telling right now as _y/n_ was being examined, prodded, and pocked to see the extent of damage her body had taken. Hotch became aware that he hadn’t been speaking for a minute, as Garcia’s breath on the other end of the line came through clearly. Thankfully Aaron was saved from any awkwardness because Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan all rushed into the room. Hotch said, “Hey, Garcia, most of the team is here now, so I’m going to catch up with them. You can come a join us if you like.” The technical analyst replied, “I’ll be there in a bit. I’m going to see if I can find more info on the APB for the stolen truck, and then I’ll head right over.” Hotch nodded and said, “Garcia, please don’t break any internet or hacking laws trying to find this guy.” There was a pause and he tacked on, “At least not any that you can get caught for.” Hearing this, Penelope chuckled and said, “You got it, boss man. See you in a few.” The call ended, and Aaron approached the rest of the team.

Thankfully the members of the BAU only had to wait for about another forty minutes before a nurse came out and said, “Party for _y/l/n_?” Just as the middle-aged woman called, Garcia entered the building and all five members moved to the woman. Her nametag had Joan printed on it. Joan smiled and said, “Ms. _y/l/n_ is recovering well. She sustained a second-degree concussion, a hairline fracture to her left wrist, some bruising and lacerations to the face and chest, and second-degree burns to her legs. The whole team seemed to still at the news. Everyone looked around as if silently asking, ‘And how bad is that? What does that mean?’ Joan was helpful enough to answer their unanswered question with, “Miss _y/n_ is recovering well. She’s more fully conscious now. The primary concerns are her concussion and the burns on her feet. She’ll need some aid in getting around for a week or so, and the hospital is going to monitor her for a few more hours to make sure she’s cognitively okay for discharge. The doctor is speaking to her now, but you should all be able to go back and see her in a few minutes. She’ll need someone to stay with for a few days. Everyone nodded along. It was a short wait now that the team knew more, and that _y/n_ wasn’t in any serious danger. This didn’t stop Hotch’s mind from racing. From him wondering what would have happened if it had been worse. If _y/n_ had been seriously hurt. He tried as hard as he could, and yet he couldn’t still those thoughts. This situation reminded him that life was frail. That life, love, could be snuffed out in an instant. Life could be taken and it wouldn’t even have to be on the field, it could happen on a cold Monday morning and it wouldn’t even be his fault. There might not even be anyone to blame. The idea disturbed him deeply. His first were clenched tightly at his sides. He could feel his fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm. As the nurse indicated it was okay for the team to move and see _y/n_ Hotch thought, ‘This is a problem.

Inside _y/n_ little curtained-off room, the doctor was just finishing up speaking with her and the grey-haired man moved out of the way to make room for the large group. When everyone shuffled in, _y/n_ almost smiled. She was much more coherent than two hours ago when she had been laid out on the frozen ground, Aaron noticed. _y/n_ didn’t look or feel great. Her body ached all over and her vision was still a bit off. The lights were too bright for one thing. She had to stop herself from squinting as the team all herded in around her. She knew she already looked goofy in a hospital gown. The nurse hadn’t let her look in a mirror, and maybe that was for the best. Not that _y/n_ was a very vain person. She tried her best to be content with her body and how she looked, but it felt like crossing some unspoken personal rule to be this disheveled in front of the team. In front of Hotch. For a second, she wanted to hide her face in her hands, or ask Emily, “How do I look?” But it was all pointless, and it would be such a character shift from the normal, no-nonsense attitude she showed in the field and office. So she mustered up a face that hid some of her pain and said, “You don’t have to look so concerned, guys. I feel like garbage, but I’ll live.”

The team did look very worried, and she thought that maybe she really did look as bad as she felt. The team chuckled at her comment, and immediately she felt better. _y/n_’s gaze found Hotch’s, and she noticed the thin line of his mouth. It was set seriously. She wondered if he was mad at her? But why would he be? She’d never really seen him like this before. It was close to the time that Emily had gotten hurt in a case at Waco. But there was something more to this look, and she was too tired to try and decipher it at the moment. Instead, she flashed him the tiniest of smiles. At this, Aaron’s face seemed to settle to its normal stoic look, so _y/n_ looked to the rest of the team so she didn’t start blushing. Penelope moved toward and gave her a little kiss on the cheek and asked, “How are you feeling, baby girl?” _y/n_ normally bristled at Pen’s pet names, but she accepted it once given the circumstances. _y/n_ replied, “Well, they’ve got me on some pretty good pain meds, so all things considered it could be worse. My feet feel funky though, in a not great kind of way. Penelope squeezed _y/n_’s hand and said, “Well we’re all here to help you out with whatever you need.” Derek agreed, saying, “Exactly what Pen said, _y/n_. You need anything and we’re on it.” As Morgan finished, the nurse moved back in and asked, “Miss _y/n_ have you decided who you’re going to stay with for the next few days?” _y/n_ blushed profusely. She hadn’t had time to ask anyone on the team, and she wasn’t even sure they had been informed that she was going to get some help for the next two days. It was embarrassing really. She liked others to think of her as strong and confident. Someone they could turn to, but now the tables had been turned. She looked up at the team, and she could see in all those assembled that they would be happy to have her. Rossi may be less so, but both she and Dave knew that she wasn’t going to ask him. _y/n_ had to pull herself from looking at Aaron. Because if she did, he would readily nod, and then that would mean that they could spend the night together at her place, or his, and potentially the night after that, and _y/n_ wasn’t sure if she could take that right now with how she was feeling. She might say things and do things that betrayed her feelings for him. In fact, she knew she would do something stupid, given all the meds and endorphins rushing through her body. So she looked up at Emily, and Prentiss beamed at her. They didn’t even need to say anything to understand each other. _y/n_ looked over at the nurse and said, “I’ll stay with Emily.” Prentiss raised her hand as her name was spoken, and the nurse moved toward her to get her contact information for the hospital's systems. As Emily moved with the nurse to the information desk, Rossi stepped forward and patted _y/n_ on the shoulder and said, “Keep your head up, kid.” _y/n_ gave him a smile too and said, “I’ll try Rossi.” There was an awkward silence as _y/n_ looked over at Hotch. _y/n_ wondered if he was ever going to say anything, or just keep standing there looking pained and uncomfortable.

Finally, Aaron cleared his throat. Garcia and Dave seemed to slide out of the room before _y/n_ could ask them to stay. She flushed again, and _y/n_ knew that Aaron could see her. _y/n_ wasn’t so silly to assume that Hotch didn’t know about her infatuation with him. It had to be clear. It was just awkward that neither of them had admitted it, even in the slightest. Maybe _y/n_ had read into Hotch’s actions around her, but she was pretty sure he cared about her as much as she liked him. The fact that he was her boss was what was a real punch in the gut. But what could she do? The feelings were there, she just had to stifle them. After a minute of silence, Aaron spoke. He used his reassuring voice, but he wasn’t sure who exactly he was giving comfort to, himself or _y/n. He said, “Would you be honest with me? How do you really feel, and what did the doctor say?” _y/n_ let out a sigh. She couldn’t lie to him even if she wanted to, so she said “My head’s all fuzzy, the lights are too bright, and my feet and legs hurt. Not that they're hot, just painful, like pins and needles all over. The doctor has them bandaged all up.” For some reason, she pulled up the blanket covering her legs to show off the medical gauze covering her feet and lower legs. It went up to her mid-calf and Aaron couldn’t help but cringe a little. It looked painful. He waited to see what _y/n_ was going to report about the doctor’s findings. He said her name, “_y/n_?” The woman in the bed came back to herself and said, “Dr. Jenings said I’d be out of the field for a few weeks, maybe three. The concussion and the fact that I can’t really walk sealed that deal pretty easily.” When _y/n_ finished, she bit the inside of her mouth. Aaron looked her over and saw the disappointment in her gaze. He knew that _y/n_ hated when she was out of the field. It had only happened once before when she got the flu very badly in December last year. She had been out for two cases and as badly she had felt, she still had Gacia fill her in on the case and called Emily or Derek once or twice a day. Aaron wanted to reprimand her, but he knew he would have done the same thing if he had been in her position. He had, however, texted her saying, “_y/n_ please take it easy.” Hotch felt the same way now, as he had then. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. That really got _y/n_ to look at him, and he said, “This wasn’t your fault, _y/n_. There was nothing you could have done about this, and no one on the team or in the office is going to fault you for having to take a break.” _y/n_ looked a bit crestfallen but nodded anyway. Sometimes Aaron thought that _y/n_ felt like she had to right every wrong the world threw at her. Hotch knew that _y/n_ had a troubled past like every member of the BAU had a complicated past. He didn’t have all the details of her story, but he could sense that she felt pressure to show up. To be there a hundred percent of the time. Aaron knew how that felt. He knew what it meant to think that it was already too late. Hotch didn’t have a lot of time to think about it further as the nurse and Emily moved back into the space. Joan was holding a pair of crutches and for a moment Aaron thought that she must be joking. There was no way that this medical professional expected _y/n_ to get on her feet this soon after what she had been through Not after he and multiple doctors had seen the state of her feet.

Aaron’s concern was addressed shortly as Joan said, “Miss, _y/n_. This might seem counterintuitive, but we’re going to need you to try and get out and up on your feet as soon as possible. The doctor recommends it so that there isn’t a chance of thrombosis or blood clots. There’s also a chance for tautness of the surrounding skin. It will be incredibly painful, but we need you to try and walk as soon as you can for your well-being.” _y/n_ nodded. Aaron could see that she looked concerned at the request, but was trying to hide it from everyone. Maybe even herself. Joan gave _y/n_ an encouraging smile. The nurse said, “Good, well here are some clothes to change into for your release. Would you like me to stay behind and help you with that?” _y/n_ nodded and Joan asked Aaron and Emily to give them some privacy. As the duo moved outside, the rest of the team was waiting for them. Now Spencer and JJ were there as well and everyone asked Emily and Aaron what had happened. The pair did their best to explain what the nurse had said. It took a bit longer than expected. However, Hotch assumed a lot went into getting someone ready for that much pain. Aaron didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t have to as a half-strangled sound could be heard coming from _y/n_’s room. The sound took the breath out of Hotch and he could see the rest of the team cringe. Garcia was so upset that she hugged Derek. Morgan took the analyst in his arms and covered her ears for her. There was a shuffling from inside the room and more pained noises. Hotch was biting down so hard on his tongue that he was sure it would bleed soon. The door was opened by Joan, and Aaron’s eyes snapped to _y/n_. She wasn’t even trying to look at any of them. Her brows were pulled so tight in pain that they were nearly touching. _y/n_ was leaning heavily on the crutches, gripping the handles with white knuckles. _y/n_ was taking labored breaths, as she moved unsteadily on her feet. She was looking at the ground only. Just at where her feet were meeting the floor. She had on some special shoes, thick black sandal-type things that accommodated the thick bandaging on her feet. The rest of the team moved to give her space and not have to see how pained she looked. But Aaron moved to her other side. It may hurt him to see _y/n_ this way, but it was clearly nothing to how she was feeling. And if his presence could provide even a modicum of comfort, then he would be there for her. Hotch stood on her right as she moved toward the door toward the check-out desk and the charge nurse. Aaron moved his hand behind _y/n_’s lower back. He didn’t make contact with her skin; his hand simply hovered over _y/n_’s shirt. It was a metaphorical helping hand. For one second, _y/n_ moved her eyes to his, and he could see that all the pain was still there, but there was a small bit of gratitude as well. _y/n_ wouldn’t be able to find the words to thank him. She wasn’t sure if she could for two reasons. First was the fact that even breathing seemed like an impossibility at the moment. The second reason was that the team was still around, even if they weren’t looking at her and Aaron. But _y/n_ had a feeling that if she opened her mouth more than a thank you would tumble out.

It took what felt like a very long time, though it was just around four minutes, for _y/n_, Joan, and Aaron to make it to the door. The nurse moved and held open the swinging doors for _y/n_ to get out of. Hotch’s train of thought was similar to _y/n_’s as she moved out into the lobby. He wondered if the team was scrutinizing his actions with _y/n_. If they were, and someone brought it up later, he would address it. For now, his attention was solely on _y/n_. Hotch was grateful that the staff at least let _y/n_ sit while she signed a few forms for her discharge. Emily also took on some papers and Joan also gave Prentiss a few file folders for the needed care steps for _y/n_’s recovery. Rossi moved forward and took the papers from Emily. When the paperwork was finished, Aaron looked over to Em and said, “I’ll drive you both to your apartment.” Prentiss nodded and Derek moved forward to get Prentiss's keys to drive her car to the front of the hospital. Aaron bent down and asked, can I give you a hand up?” _y/n_ looked up at him for the first real-time that day. She looked so tired but nodded her head yes. _y/n_ got her crutches ready to support her weight once she was on her feet again. Aaron bent down, placed his hands under her arms, and lifted her up. Once _y/n_’s weight was on her feet again, she made another pained sound, but this one was much smaller, just a little “mhm,” with an exhalation of breath. Hotch, _y/n_ and Em all moved to the sliding doors and out into the cold air. Hotch watched with a keen eye for any slick or ice spots on the sidewalk. Thankfully it was just a few feet from the hospital entrance to the waiting car. Derek got out of the driver's seat and along with Aaron, helped _y/n_ into the back seat. Hotch noticed the goosebumps from the chilly air on _y/n_’s skin, and he removed his jacket and handed it over as she gave him the crutches that didn’t quite fit in the backseat. Aaron watched with a tiny bit of warmth in him as _y/n_ slipped his oversized jacket over her frame. Em and Derek were talking quietly near the front of the car. Aaron moved to the trunk and placed the crutches there then moved to the front. Morgan stepped forward and asked, “Are you going back to the office after this?” Hotch nodded and said, “Yes. I’ll need to file some paperwork for _y/n_ and reach out to medical and see what timeline they have for time off in the field. However, if you or anyone else on the team needs the rest of the day off, I’d understand. Can you tell anyone else on the BAU team that?” Derek nodded and said, “Will do Hotch.” Morgan gave his arm a sturdy pat and as the built man turned to move back inside, Aaron called out saying, “Please drive safely, Morgan.” Derek looked back and caught his eye before he nodded and then moved back into the hospital.

Emily moved to sit in the back of the car with _y/n_. Em and took the injured woman’s hand in hers. Prentiss rubbed circles over _y/n_ thumb softly, providing a soft touch to distract and remind _y/n_ that she wasn’t alone. Aaron pulled out out of the crowded parking lot. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw _y/n_ leaning against Emily’s shoulder. Hotch asked, “_y/n_ how’s the temperature? Do you need it warmer?” _y/n_ just barely opened her eyes and said, “I’m good, thanks.” Aaron nodded, feeling bad that there wasn’t more he could do for her. It took about a half hour with traffic to get to Em’s townhouse in the center of the city. Emily got all of the files, and Aaron helped _y/n_ into the elevator, down the hallway, and finally to a seat on Emily’s couch. Emily turned on a single lamp and grabbed a glass of water for _y/n_. Prentiss took a bit longer in the kitchen than she needed, giving Hotch and her guest a few minutes of privacy. Hotch knelt and placed a hand on her left shoulder. He wanted to do so much more, to rub his hands over her arms, or stroke the profile of her face with the pad of this thumb. He wanted to dote on her, pick her up, put her to bed, and make sure there wasn’t any pain. But _y/n_ probably wouldn’t like that. She acted so strong on and off the field that he wasn’t sure that this kind of corporal affection would be appreciated. He also wasn’t sure his romantic feelings would be reciprocated either. It was one of the many reasons that he hadn’t said anything about his feelings for her. He couldn’t deny that he sensed a connection between them. Something physical and beyond. But perhaps he was reading into things. His brain going into hyperdrive in terms of profiler mood. His brain seemed to short-circuit sometimes when he was near _y/n_, but he was composed enough to hide it. Or at least he hoped he hid it. Aaron realized that he wasn’t saying anything, that his hand was lingering on _y/n_’s body. He looked at her, and she was staring at him. Her gaze seemed a bit distant, but _y/n_ was trying to focus on him. She opened her mouth and tried to say, “Hotch. I’m…” but Aaron stopped her saying, “Please don’t say you're fine, _y/n_. You were, are, in real pain, and you also went through something very traumatic. You don’t have to be brave right now. It’s okay.” That was all Aaorn could bring himself to say without it getting out of hand. A noise from the doorway had Hotch standing in an instant. Emily entered the room and placed the glass of water on the table next to the couch. Hotch softly said to _y/n_ alone, “Rest if you can, alright?” _y/n_ nodded and moved to take off his black blazer. Without really thinking about anything, or that Emily was standing right by him, he said, “You keep it for now. You can bring it back when you’re back in the office.” Aaron moved and unclipped his FBI badge that was still attached to his exterior breast pocket. He slipped the plastic into the back pocket of his trousers and moved away from _y/n_ reluctantly. He turned and Prenitss had a look on her face that spoke volumes without having to say a word. Aaron let out a little sigh, and he motioned for Emily to follow him a bit farther away from _y/n_. Hotch wasn’t ready to address whatever Em was thinking. Instead, he said in a steady voice, “Feel free to call me or text if you need me, or _y/n_ needs something. Anything. I’m just a few minutes away.” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’ll let you know. She’s going to be okay, Aaron. _y/n_’s a strong person.” Hotch nodded, not willing to address the look Emily was sending him. He moved out the door before anything else could happen.

The next morning, _y/n_ who had just changed her bandages and taken her antimicrobial and pain meds got a call from Aaron. _y/n_ picked up and tried not to give a groan of pain, as she raised her legs onto the bed. She answered, “Hey Hotch? What’s up?” There was a brief pause before Aaron said, “Just checking in. I have some news, but I want to hear how you’re feeling first. How was last night?” _y/n_ could hear that Hotch was using his office voice again. The tenderness that he had spoken to her with yesterday was still there, just veiled behind professionalism like normal. _y/n_ could picture him sitting behind his desk. His knees brushed the inside of his desk as it was just a bit too small for his lanky limbs. He wasn’t on his office phone, given he had called her on her cell. The image of him sitting, bathed in the soft lighting of his lamps was one she played out in her head often. He wasn’t exactly stationary in these thoughts, he was doing things other than paperwork or calling her to see if she wasn’t so battered and bruised. _y/n_ had to push those thoughts back. Now was not the time or the place. Even if her wildest fantasies were fulfilled, given the pain in her body was still feeling, none of those blissful ideas would be able to be completed. _y/n_ stifled a sigh, and instead replied, “It was okay given the circumstances. Things are still pretty painful and I understand what the doctor was saying about the long-lasting effects of a concussion now. My head and brain still haven’t seemed to reset to normal yet, but other than that, I feel as good as I can. Now tell me about your news. What did medical say?” _y/n_ was so familiar with the BAU procedures to not know why Hotch had been calling her. The medical board had gotten back to him to let Aaron know how long she medically needed to be out of the field. Hotch let out a big sigh and replied, “Well the med board looked over your files from yesterday and they’ve grounded you for three weeks, minimum. Given the concussion and the physical nature of being on the field, it’s not wise to have you back with us until then. When you get back after the three weeks, you’ll have to see medical to get cleared back to the field. _y/n_ couldn’t stop the long sigh that they let out while hearing the news. _y/n_ understood the need for her physical well-being, but being off gave her time to think. And if she thought too hard, her mind went to bad places, from the past and present. Working for the BAU mercifully kept her mind on other places and horrible scenarios. But now she was grounded and it sucked. There was a small silence before _y/n_ replied, “I understand.” She could hear Hotch click his pen, a habit of his that she noticed when Aaron was in the office. He would click his pen either on his wooden desk or with his thumb. Aaron took in a breath and said, “Try and rest while you can, _y/n_. You can call me or text me if you have any questions about your return to the field. And if you think you need more time, just let me know.” Hotch said the last sentence as a formality. He knew _y/n_ would be going stir-crazy after three days of not being at work. There was another silence, and _y/n_ asked, “Can I come into the office at least? Like after a week?” Aaron sat back and swallowed his emotion of concern for _y/n_. What more could he say than, “I can’t stop you from coming in the building, _y/n_.” They wrapped up the call shortly after that. _y/n_ closed her eyes for a minute and just tried to relax. In a few minutes, she was going to do her exercises to help with her recovery. It would be a long three weeks.

The team got called away on a case the next day. Thankfully _y/b/f_ was able to help _y/n_ who moved back to her apartment after Emily left for the new case in Vegas. Even though the lights twinkled and shone on the Vegas strip, and there was a highly unique case afoot - an unsub apparently leading people to poison themselves due to bankruptcy and gambling addictions - Hotch found it hard to keep his mind on the case. At the hotel the second night, he tried to find a lead, any lead that would help the team pinpoint more about this unsub. His brain drifted to _y/n_. He wondered what she was doing right now. It was 11:45 p.m. Any sensible person would be asleep given the chance. Maybe she was in her bed. Aaron had to stop himself there. He didn’t have sexual thoughts about _y/n_, at least not yet, but he was so tired that if he kept thinking about her, his brain might idle down that path. This, he would not allow. It was bad enough that he felt that he couldn’t even talk to _y/n_ he would feel infinitely worse if he started getting off to her too. He reflected on these feelings for a moment, how they had come to metastasize in him. From early on during their employment, Aaron could tell that _y/n_ was someone who couldn’t be easily pushed or waived. When _y/n_ had committed to something, they stuck to it. Not that she was one to hang onto an idea or train of thought during a case like Rossi's. _y/n_ tried to be open-minded in that regard. But she had committed fully to the team since the day she signed on. That was the standard, the expectation for him, but _y/n_ sometimes felt over-committed. She would stay up all hours of the night trying to figure a piece of a case out. She relied heavily on his, Rossi's, and Emily’s experience in the field to catch up on facts or training that she might have missed in her previous placement. Aaron sensed that she was running from something given how hard she worked both in the field and the office. He hadn’t asked what that was, but Aaron could sense it. He had hoped that maybe one day she would tell him. But then their feelings toward each other had become more complex. It had happened during a brutal and long case in October last year. It involved kids which was always the worst to deal with for him. The team had been working non-stop until Aaron had essentially ordered them to get some rest. Everyone had moved into their rooms to pretend to sleep and an hour later Aaron was moving down the hall to run a theory by Rossi. He had passed _y/n_’s room and heard crying inside. It wasn’t loud, but he could hear it distinctly. The sobs coming from inside ripped at his heart like a knife. He had knocked and the crying stopped momentarily. _y/n_ had moved to the door, unlocked both bolts, and removed the security chain. Aaron could hear the metal rubbing against each other. When _y/n_ had opened the door, she moved back to let him in. She turned her face as if to hide the pain there from him. Aaron gently took hold of her hand, and she finally looked at him. Softly he asked, “What’s the matter _y/n_? Is it the case? Has something personal happened?” _y/n_ bit the side of her mouth trying to stop the tears from coming again. But she couldn’t, and as she started shaking and crying again Aaron moved forward and took her in his strong arms. She leaned into him; really leaned into him for the first time. He had never seen her so vulnerable before and as he asked, “Please tell me what’s bothering you,” and her enigmatic reply of, “I just can’t Aaron. I can’t;” had changed everything. Because at that moment Hotch would have done just about anything to make _y/n_ feel better. To free her of whatever pain she was feeling. Whatever emotions were plaguing her? And when _y/n_ had stopped crying, and Aaron pulled away, she could see it in his eyes, and she wanted that from him just as badly as he wanted to give it; thus their fates were sealed, because this relationship, or hope at one couldn’t happen, and yet Hotch yearned for it. Thought about it nearly every time he looked at her.

Thankfully Aaron’s brain did manage to think of something besides _y/n_, and that was Rossi. Whenever he got stuck, he’d go and see Dave to see what the pro had noticed that he might have missed. It was helpful having someone older than him on the team for Hotch to turn to. Aaron pushed himself out of the bed and slipped on his tennis shoes. He padded down the hall and as he moved forward, Emily stepped out of her room in front of him. Prentiss was on the phone and said, “Yeah the team’s okay. I’d love to be spending a week in Vegas just for fun. How’d you feel coming here during Spring Break some year? You, me, Morgan, and Penelope…” There was a pause and Em continued, “You got it, Baby. Sin to Win.” Hearing this, Aaron actually laughed. He tried to disguise it as a cough but didn’t succeed. Prentiss turned on her heel and relaxed when she realized it was just him. She gave him a bit of a joking disapproving glare at him eavesdropping. Hotch could never not laugh when Emily said, “Sin to Win.” He was still unaware of the connotation or story associated with the phrase, but it never failed to make him laugh. It just sounded so strange coming from someone as polite and proper as Em. He pointed at the phone pressed to her ear and whispered, “Who is it?” He already knew, but Emily indulged him and mouthed, “_y/n_.” Aaron nodded and mouthed back, “Tell her to go to bed.” Prentiss rolled her eyes and said into the phone, “Someone has someone has something to say to you, _y/n_.” Without further ado, Em removed the phone from her ear and pressed it into Hotch’s hands. Aaron flushed red and looked at Emily like a deer in headlights, but Em crossed her arms and just looked at him as if saying, “Do it yourself.” After what felt like a bit too long, Aaron pulled the cell to his ear and said in an embarrassed tone, “Hey, _y/n_. Ummm… maybe you should be getting some rest?” The was a beat of silence, and _y/n_ let out a soft breath at hearing Aaron suddenly on the other end of the line. She replied, “I am resting, I’m in bed right now watching _y/f/s_. I feel so rested that I’m even planning my next vacation. Emily is promising me ‘Sin to Win’ in Vegas in the Spring.” Hotch had to stifle some sort of sound from coming out of his mouth at the rather wild and lurid image his brain came up with in association with _y/n_ and Em’s new favorite phrase. He coughed once and said, “Well good, just don’t get ahead of yourself. Rest well _y/n_.” With that, he quickly handed the phone back to Emily and moved down the hallway, well aware that his agent could see how flustered he was. As Aaron made his retreat, Em pulled the phone back to her ear and said, “It’s me again.” As Prentiss slipped into her room, she smiled. It was fortuitous that she had stepped out of her room when she had. Prentiss, JJ, Rossi, and even Morgan had started waiting for bated breath for something to happen between _y/n_ and Aaron. At this point, Emily was willing to push things in that direction if she had to, and tonight had been a clear, successful first step.

The case in Nevada wrapped up. Hotch was always glad to be headed home, but in this case, he was especially glad. It meant that he could check up on _y/n_ The team decompressed, and a few days into the next week, _y/n_ stopped by the office. _y/n_ sat next to Spencer and Derek talking about the latest case and what she had missed. Hotch clocked her grabbing at one of Morgan’s files, but he swooped in and took it from her hands, turned it over, and set it firmly back on Derek’s desk. _y/n_ pouted at him slightly, and both Spencer and Derek looked away. Hotch and _y/n_ were acting differently than they had before. Aaron had realized after the accident that life was too short and fickle for him to be playing around. The thought of _y/n_ being in a worse situation than being dragged from her car just in time was something that was going to stay with him for a long time. So even if he couldn’t say anything, he was going to at least act a bit more involved. Hotch viewed this like a soft launch, though to the rest of the team, it looked like ten massive steps forward. No one on the team was going to say anything about it though. They were just grateful that something was happening between them. Hotch also started acting like this to see if _y/n_ wanted this like he assumed she did. If she wasn’t interested in his advances then he would stop instantly. This was only his first day seeing her, and he was trying to still act natural, but he couldn’t deny the rush he felt when she looked at him like this. She feigned disappointment at him taking the file she had, but a genuine happiness to see him again. Aaron’s thoughts were shattered as Penelope's voice cut through his mental fog. Hotch turned to look at the small landing that connected the bullpen to the upper level of the floor the BAU was housed on. Garcia said, “The fam is home, _y/n_ is here, and everything is right with the world.” No one on the team acknowledged that their very jobs meant that the world was a horrible, awful, depraved place. But it was the thought that counted. Aaron moved aside to make room for Garcia in the little huddle of agents. He moved to the edge of the staircase, hesitant to move away. He listened in on the conversation the group was having. He pretended to look over one of his own files, even though he wouldn’t normally do that down in the bullpen. He at least pretended like he was missing a paper as he rifled through his full folder. He listened in on Garcia and asked, “So what’s with you and your friend getting into a fight? What happened there?” _y/n_ gave a small sigh at the question, but replied, “It’s this damn concussion. Some things, like the lights or certain sounds, just seem to set me off. I apologized, profusely, and we made up, but it’s just annoying that such little things are bothering me. It makes me feel like I’m not in control. I hate that.” Aaron actually started moving up the stairs as Spencer started going on a tangent about concussion symptoms and car crashes, while Pen leaned down and kissed the top of _y/n_’s head.

A full week elapsed and _y/n_ met with medical and took a physical to clear her for the field. _y/n_ was still walking awkwardly, but they were out of the heavy bandaging and her feet and legs had healed well given the care she took with her body and recovery. Aaron was forwarded the medical report from Dr. Sujedia recommending _y/n_ take off a few more days. Aaron had called _y/n_ to his office to discuss the results. _y/n_ sat down and did her best to look tough and undisturbed. Unbothered by the results of the test. Aaron looked over the papers and said, “As you know, Dr. Ramirez recommends another three to four days of rest. I’m prepping a new case with JJ this afternoon and I want your opinions on your condition. How are you feeling?” _y/n_ was honest with Hotch, knowing that was the best guarantee that they would be allowed onto the next case. She said, “My head’s still bothering me, and I don’t think my legs are down for a chase on foot right now, but I can just sit in the background. I can listen to and organize files in the precinct. I can work with JJ and do a geographical profile, or…” Aaron cut her off with a small raise of his hand from his desk. He knew she was trying to prove that she could still be an asset to the team, even if she couldn’t do all of the physically demanding aspects of the job. Hotch thought it over for a moment. He knew that _y/n_ would be upset if he said no. He saw the determined look on her face. Reluctantly he gave a nod. At least if she was with the team he could look over her. Not that she wanted that exactly, but it would make him feel better. He dismissed _y/n_ shortly after he reminded her that she was to take it easy on the case, doing work that would let her rest her body. He watched as she gave him a big smile and walked out the door. She was so happy that she didn’t even try to hide the little limp she had while walking on her tender feet. Once _y/n_ was back in the bullpen talking animatedly to Emily, he moved over to Garcia’s office. He knocked on the door once before he entered the dim space. Penelope looked up from her three monitors and asked, “What’s up Hotch?” Aaron leaned against the door and replied, “How many times did she visit you while we were away?” The ‘she’ in question didn’t need to be named before Pen said, “Just twice, but I didn’t ask her to Hotchy. I swear she came of her own accord.” Hotch’s set into a firm line for a second before he said, “Alright, well don’t encourage it, at least until she’s a bit better.” He added very softly, “She looks worn out.” Pen smiled gently and could see the concern on her supervisor's face. Garcia replied, “Pinky promise. We’ll take care of her.” Aaron nodded ever so slightly and then moved out of the technical den and toward JJ’s office.

The next case was in North Carolina at the private post-secondary school, High Point University. So far four male students that were all athletes had been found strangled on the school grounds. A panic had set in from the students, faculty, and most annoyingly the donors to the small campus. There was an obvious tie with all of the students being men and athletes. Though different sports had been targeted, not just a single athletic pursuit. There was also the option that scholarships could take a part in the murders as two of the three men killed had been on athletic scholarships that semester. As the team bounced ideas off of each other on the plane ride, _y/n_ said, “There are some wealthy alumni from Highpoint. Maybe this is some wild Operation Varsity Blues type of situation?” As always Spencer took off with this idea and how nepotism could be as real a motivator for murder as rage or shame might be. Aaron looked over his team from his spot near the front of the jet. It felt good to have _y/n_ back, even if in the pit of his stomach he felt concerned about throwing her back in the field like he was. Granted she had asked, but even so, he was still concerned. When they got to the university, JJ immediately started working with the campus media team to get a consistent message out. Hotch moved to speak with the University Police Department and Rossi went to the local station. Hotch took Morgan and _y/n_ with him, while Rossi had Spencer and Emily moved to the downtown police station. Things continued to move quickly as they always did on a case. The team made a basic profile. By the end of the day, due to the unsub clearly being young, or at least mentally young, they had made plenty of mistakes that were easy to pick up on. Unfortunately, the campus's UPD wasn’t used to murder’s happening on their territory and was overwhelmed by the student and parent response. The day unfolded with the team creating a profile and trying to stay as low-key as possible. Because the BAU was the BAU it was clear to the students that something was happening. This meant that the unsub was also likely aware of the presence of the FBI, pulled back, and might stop their killing spree. This would be a good thing except that once the BAU was gone, they could simply start killing again. Therefore, the team started canvassing the campus. Sitting in on big lecture classes and speaking to faculty. The team assumed that the unsub was a student first. Secondly, they assumed that the student was not an athlete, and potentially a student who had to retake a year or even more of coursework at the university.

_y/n_ was trying to listen to her body and abide by Hotch’s request that she take it easy. She had sat in a large mirco-economics class with Spencer and watched as the genius took so many notes. Covering over twenty pages as Dr. Reid wrote furiously about economic theory, where the Professor was wrong, where the textbook, which Spencer quickly read before class was incorrect. All _y/n_ could think of was that she was glad she was not that professor, or that she would ever have a class with Spencer as the instructor -- she knew she would fail the course on entry. After that, _y/n_ moved to the UPD’s department and went through piles and piles of non-sexual assault claims. If the unsub was a supersenior, there could be over six years' worth of reports to look through. She spent most of the day looking over these reports. The next day, _y/n_ spent a good deal of the morning with JJ, fielding concerns from students, bursars, and faculty members who asked questions. The pair also held some interviews with a few students that had caught the team's interest the day before. Although the interviews didn’t reveal much, but they gave _y/n_ an idea about something she read yesterday in a report. _y/n_ didn’t mind doing this kind of clerical work, but it was harming her current condition. Being under such harsh fluorescent lights was making her head swim. It was also putting their temper on edge. The last interview where a young sophomore had scratched his head incessantly and said, “Um,” “Like,” or “And” every other word had put _y/n_ pushed something in her like an itch that desperately needed to be scratched, but there was no actual, physical place to relieve the annoyance. _y/n_ was desperately looking forward to being cooped up alone in the files room looking for that one folder that she was thinking of. It would be killing two birds with one stone. It could be potentially helpful to the team, and it would give her a moment to decompress and let out her annoyed feelings. Just as _y/n_ was getting ready to leave, Hotch showed up and asked JJ and her about their progress. Mercifully JJ answered for both of them. When Aaron turned his gaze to her, she said, “JJ’s right. We haven’t found much with what we’ve looked at this morning. However, there’s a file I remember standing out at the UPD. I was going to head there now actually.” Aaron nodded. He turned to JJ quickly and said, “Keep up the good work here. Call me if you find anything useful. The smallest scrap of information could be helpful now.” JJ smiled at Hotch and said, “You got it, Hotch.” Next, Aaron turned to _y/n_ and said, “I’ll walk you there.” _y/n_ nodded and followed after him as he opened the door for her. Aaron could tell that something was happening with _y/n_. He couldn’t pin it down yet, but he wanted to make sure she was okay. The day was unimaginably hot given that it was November. The campus was also sprawling and had lots of external stairs. The UPD and the file storage center were almost a mile apart. As the pair moved down yet another set of stairs. _y/n_ felt that she was so hot. The sun felt like it was beating down on her relentlessly. As _y/n_ took another step down, she felt her ankle buckle and her mind went blank as her body swooned toward the concrete steps.

Aaron could feel that something was wrong as he and _y/n_ moved down yet another set of steps. Halfway down those steps, he looked over to _y/n_. Her breathing was shallowed and despite being in the direct sun, her skin looked shallow. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and _y/n_’s body crumpled dangerously quickly toward the hard, sharp steps. For a millisecond, Aaron felt like he was back at the scene of the wreck, but this time he could do something in the moment. He wasn’t powerless. So, Aaron moved his left leg down two steps and positioned his body and arms to catch _y/n_’s limp body. When he caught her, she let out an exhalation at the harsh contact of her body colliding with his. Aaron bent down slightly and used his other arm to pull up under _y/n_’s legs. He gave a soft grunt as he took _y/n_’s full weight in his arms. Hotch moved carefully down the steps and glared at any students who threw him an intrigued or concerned look as he held _y/n_ close to his chest. Aaron moved to a flat portion of the path that was covered. He spotted a bench that was shaded by a large tree. Hotch quickly moved in that direction, and _y/n_ started to stir in his arms; her eyes slowly opening. Aaron got to the bench and sat down with _y/n_ nestled in his lap. He brushed a hand over her cheek, as she fully came to her faculties. _y/n_ gave a small groan and asked, “Wha’ happened?” _y/n_’s slurred speech worried him. Hotch replied, “You fainted, _y/n_. You really could have been hurt if you were walking alone.” Aaron couldn’t veil his concern. Not now. He added, “I’m worried about you, _y/n_.” _y/n_ looked up at him, not fully aware that Hotch’s hand was in her hair, and his heart rate was beating out of his chest with concern. _y/n_ tried to get her vision to clear. The pain in her head from the lights and the heat was still causing her pain and she replied in a tone that she wanted to sound exasperated, but it really just came out like a snap, saying, “Why do you even care?” And once the words were out and the tone became apparent, her vision cleared and she saw Aaron fully, and the look of love and care for her overwhelmed her. In a breathy voice, one that was starting to be overcome with tears, she said, “I didn’t mean that, Aa…” Her voice was strangled by tears and Hotch pulled her close to his body. His head rested on top of hers as he said, “I know. I know you didn’t mean it that way. I know.” And as Aaron held her, she did know he knew. That he knew it all. At that moment she wouldn’t fight him. All she wanted was for him to hold her and help with the pain. He had at the hospital. Even being near him made her feel better. They stayed there for a few moments and Aaron said, “I’m taking you back to the hotel. You need rest and don’t even try to fight me on this. You mean too much to me to be having on the field right now.” _y/n_ nodded and shifted to stand, but Aaron stopped her with a large hand, saying, “You’re not walking right now in this heat. I’ll carry you to the SUV.” _y/n_’s mouth fell open slightly and said, “Aaron I can do it.” Hotch nodded his head no, replying, “I’m not having you move down all those stairs again. The car is only two lots, over. Now if I hold you like I did before, will it hurt your legs at all?” _y/n_ swallowed and softly said, “No. It won’t hurt me.” Aaron nodded and readjusted his hands again. Carefully picked her up again. He moved quickly to the SUV. He set _y/n_ down and got pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors. Once _y/n_ was seated and buckled, he turned on the AC. The ride to the motel was short with Aaron just shooting Rossi and Em a text saying that he’d be back in a half hour or so.

_y/n_ was grateful that Aaron let her walk to her own room. As much as she liked Hotch’s touch and gentle care he had when he had carried her, she had her dignity and desire to still be able to care for herself. In her room, Aaron looked over at her bed. _y/n_ didn’t even care as she pulled off her blazer, slipped off her shoes, and laid back on the bed. While she was doing this, Aaron turned off the overhead light and turned on a lamp instead. He puttered with the air conditioning so that it wasn’t freezing, but not too hot either. He then moved to the window messing with the curtains even though the blackout curtain and decorative curtain were clearly closed. Hotch did this because he didn’t know what to say. Finally, _y/n_ called him. It was a voice she had rarely used with him. It was vulnerable, needy, scared even? When Aaron looked at _y/n_ he saw the desire in her face, a look that must have been the one he had on his own face as he covered her body on the freezing road, and as he carried her to the bench just a few minutes earlier. Aaron was drawn to her and sat on the edge of the bed as _y/n_ said, “Aaron. I like you. I have for a long time. I’m sorry if this fucks everything up between us, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to say anything. But I have to say something.” At this, she stopped and looked at him concerned that she might have ruined everything. Aaron leaned forward, ran his left hand through her hair again, and rested his forehead against hers. He felt such a reprieve at her words. He closed his eyes and said, “I like you too, _y/n_. I’ve been a coward about my feelings and your still here being brave after everything that’s happened to you this month. For a few minutes, I thought I’d lost you and I’m never going to let that happen again. At least where I can. I want to be with you.” _y/n_ gave a little hum and placed a hand on his chest. Knowing that she wasn’t delusional for desiring Aaron suddenly made all her pain seem to fade into the background. His breath on her face was comforting, and she opened her eyes a bit. She shifted up a bit and gave his mouth a peck. At this, Hotch opened his eyes. He gave her a soft smile and moved his mouth more needily over hers. As they shared that kiss, they were both grateful for the other. For the comfort that was to be had now and in the future. There was a lot to be said later, but for now, their love and lips said everything that needed to be at the moment. _y/n_ closed her eyes and let the moment linger. _y/n_’s hand found its way to his chest, placed it over his heart, and felt its steady beat under her palm. _y/n_ closed her eyes and as they continued to kiss, she was certain that she would know anywhere. No matter how they were challenged and pulled, she would always know and love him, and this was just the start of that journey.

______________________________________________________________

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nicoline1998enilocin · 1 year ago

Text

Interesting

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.2K

SUMMARY | Bucky wasn't much of a talker before he met you, and he usually doesn't talk until you enter the room he's in. One day, Sam calls him out on his behavior, and he tells him that you're the only one who is actually worth listening to in the Compound.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Light swearing, 2 idiots in love who won’t see it until it’s pointed out to them.

A/N | If you want to send in a request for Bucky fics (either fluff/smut/angst), please don’t hesitate to drop them in my inbox! I’d love to see what you all think about when you think of Bucky! Thank you in advance 🖤

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You have been holed up in your room for the entire afternoon because you're trying to get your wardrobe sorted out. You've been wanting to do this for a while, and there was no better day than the rainy Sunday you have found yourself currently enjoying. You got some music playing on your tv filling the space with some Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, and Panic! At The Disco to give you the boost of energy you need to see it through to the end. You're usually known to abandon things like this halfway, but you were sure today would be different, and now you're almost at the end. You promised Nat and Wanda that as soon as you were done they could search through it and pick out the clothes they want, the rest of it will go to Goodwill and be used for people who need them.

It took you only 15 more minutes before the pile on your bed was almost too big and threatening to topple over, but you stopped right on time. You knew Nat and Wanda would be in the living room so you walked over there. They were in conversation with Steve and Sam, Bucky was there too but he was just reading a book in a comfy chair in the corner. As soon as you walk into the living room Bucky looks up from his book and acknowledges you. ''Hi doll, it's good to see you again! We almost thought you had escaped or something,'' he said with a wink and you just laughed at his comment. ''No, just sorting my clothes is all! How's your book?'' you ask and he proceeds to tell you all about this book he's been reading.

You sit on the arm of the chair he's currently sitting in as the two of you have an entire conversation about the book, since it's one of the thrillers you've recommended to him and he's been hooked on it since the beginning. What the two of you failed to notice, however, is that the entire room had gone quiet, because they hadn't heard Bucky say a single word ever since they walked in and they asked if it was okay to join him. He just gave him a grunt in response, and they were completely flabbergasted at the fact that he could in fact talk. He just kept rambling on and on about his opinions, until Sam cleared his throat and both of you looked at him.

''Really? You're talking to her like you've not seen each other for weeks, but we can't even get a hello?!'' he says with a scowl as he looks at Bucky. ''I was just reading, it's no big deal. I was just invested is all,'' he says but everyone knows that wasn't exactly convincing. Steve is the only one who knows what's going on but he won't tell anyone, because Bucky told him about his feelings towards you in secret. Bucky never told anyone about Steve's feelings for Natasha either, so they knew they could 100% trust each other, even though this was making it slightly more obvious. ''Alright, you keep telling yourself that while I go make myself a cup of coffee,'' Sam says as he stands up, walking towards the kitchen.

This time you turned to Nat and Wanda, who were still looking at you and Bucky in disbelief. ''Did you two still want to go rummage through my clothes or-'' you say and before you can finish your sentence you are pulled away by the girls to your room, barely able to say goodbye to Bucky and Steve. ''See you guys!'' is all you get out before you're out of earshot. ''Could you please slow down? I'm not wearing shoes and the floor is slippery!'' you say and they finally do, but only when the three of you have reached your room.

''Spill it, now!'' Nat demands, but you have no clue what she's getting at. You look at her with a confused face, and then to Wanda in the hopes she would explain what's going on with Nat. ''W-what do you mean?'' you ask with hesitation clear in your voice. ''You and Bucky, what's going on between the two of you? He hasn't said a single word since we walked in, and right when you walk in he's talking like there's an endless stream of thoughts coming out of his mouth,'' she says and you blush. Is your crush on the super soldier that obvious? ''Nothing is going on, I swear! I didn't even know he didn't say anything to you, I assumed he was just busy with his book and happened to look up when I walked in...'' you say as a blush creeps up your cheeks and down your neck.

''I swear, nothing is going on! Now can the two of you just go through my clothes? That way I can still bring the rest to Goodwill before they close today,'' you tell them and they do, steering the conversation to your clothes as they try it on, and almost the entire pile is shared between the two girls. The rest of it goes into some trash bags and you're on your way to the parking garage when you're suddenly stopped by Bucky. ''Here, let me help you,'' he says and you gladly accept. When they're loaded into your car he offers to go with you and you happily agree. ''Shall we get some coffee before heading back to the Compound?'' he asks and you nod, that would be nice, especially with this rainy weather.

A few weeks have passed and there have been a few more incidents like the one when you walked into the living room, tonight would be no different. Tony invited everyone out to a bar to celebrate your last mission which happened to be a huge success, but you would be joining everyone later since you were having dinner with an old friend first. All the other Avengers were already at the bar, and Bucky was staring at the door as if it would run away if he didn't keep his gaze locked onto it constantly. ''You know she won't be coming in here any time soon, leave the door alone already,'' Sam sighs, but Bucky doesn't listen.

You decided to go for an edgy yet casual outfit today, perfect for the weather outside right now. Fall has finally arrived in New York and as much as you love the colder weather, it was also nice to be somewhere warm with all your colleagues and friends. You said your goodbyes to Ava as you walked into the bar, and she walked the rest of her way home. The little bell above the door went off and with it, Bucky's facial expression completely changed. ''You've got the be kidding me,'' Sam mumbled under his breath but Bucky didn't pay attention, all he had eyes for is you. ''Hi, guys! Sorry I'm late,'' you say as you sit down on the bar stool next to Bucky. Of course, he saved it for you so you could sit next to him.

''How was dinner with Ava?'' Bucky asked and you told everyone all about her, how the two of you met, some crazy antics the two of you have gotten into, and of course dinner tonight. She recently got engaged and she wanted to tell you in person, you couldn't be happier for her. Bucky had made sure to get your favorite drink in the meantime, and you were gladly sipping on it. ''So, did I miss anything while I was gone?'' you ask. ''This one-'' Sam put his hand on Bucky's shoulder when he said that, ''- was staring the door down as if it was going to fall off its hinges if he didn't,'' he says and you laugh loudly. Bucky would never get enough of hearing that laugh.

''Really? Did you miss me that much?'' you say and he immediately blushes, trying to hide behind his long hair. You let it go and the evening was filled with more drinks you and Bucky were constantly talking with each other, leaving the rest of the team to fend for themselves. ''Okay, this is getting out of hand. Buck, you're acting weird and I've had enough of it,'' Sam started, Bucky looking confused in his direction. ''What are-,'' ''You know damn well what I'm talking about. Whenever you're hanging out with us you barely talk, but whenever Y/N walks in you talk everyone's ear off! Just tell her you like her already so we don't have to keep doing this!'' he raised his voice and the red color Bucky was sporting before, has turned to a deep red at this point, and was creeping down his neck and chest.

''Sam, stop,'' he begs, but of course, Sam doesn't stop there. ''It's so obvious you two have feelings for each other, so why won't the two of you just admit it already? It's killing us for fuck sake!'' he yelled and that's when you had enough. ''Stop it! Just stop! I can't help it that Bucky and I get along great, that we have similar interests, and that he's fun to be around. But you don't have to attack him like this, he doesn't deserve that! Why can't you just be happy that he has made a friend? Someone who he feels comfortable with besides Steve? Is there something wrong with me that I can't be his friend or something?!'' you raise your voice this time and tears are burning in the corners of your eyes.

''That's not what I meant, Y/N. There's nothing wrong with you,'' Sam said but you had enough of this. ''Just leave me alone, I have had enough of this shit. I'm going home and I don't want to see any of you right now,'' you say and you get up, storming out of the bar and on your way to the Compound. ''You happy now, asshole?!'' Bucky snarls at Sam who does feel guilty for making you leave like that. ''And for the record, I only act like that around her because she's the only one who's worth listening to in the Compound,'' Bucky said before getting up and leaving too, going after you.

The bar was close to the Compound so you were there before Bucky was, and you had wrapped yourself in your comforter like a burrito so you could just be alone with your feelings. Bucky knocks softly on your bedroom door, hoping you're in there. ''Doll? Are you in there?'' he asks, but you don't answer. ''If you are, please open the door. I just want to talk to you,'' he says. ''Go away,'' you say, but of course, he doesn't. ''Doll, please, I want to explain something,'' he says and you unwrap yourself to open the door. ''Fine,'' you sigh as you go lay down in your bed, rolling yourself up in the same position as before. Bucky lets out a soft chuckle at the sight of a Y/N burrito.

''If you came here to laugh, you can leave again,'' you said sharply and he immediately stopped. ''No, I'm sorry. But I wanted to confess something, because Sam was right earlier, at the bar. I was staring at the door, wanting to see you walk in because you always manage to lift my mood without even trying,'' he starts, and you don't say anything and just listen to what he has to say. ''It's because I do indeed have feelings for you, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I enjoy being in your presence,'' he says and with that, you turn around, facing him. ''A-Are you in love with me?'' you ask, not sure what to think of it.

''I am, that's why I just feel so comfortable talking to you, because when you're around I know I can be myself, and those feelings are shining through every time I see you. Steve is the only one I told, but I guess Sam must've picked up on it somewhere,'' Bucky sighs, and you sit up. You sit next to Bucky on the edge of your bed, leaning your head onto his shoulder and enjoying his warmth right now. ''Would you believe me if I tell you I've been in love with you as well?'' you say softly, a small smile playing on your lips. ''Yeah, I would,'' he said, and he puts 2 fingers under your chin, guiding your face to his.

He plants a soft, loving kiss on your lips and the two of you don't move for a little while, even when your lips aren't touching anymore. ''I've been thinking about doing that for a long time,'' Bucky said and you laughed. ''Me too,'' you say before placing another kiss on his lips this time. ''Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me, doll?'' Bucky asks and your face almost splits open into a wide grin as you nod. ''Nothing would make me happier than that, Bucky!'' you say as you wrap your arms around each other, laying down on the bed together in a tangle of limbs as you cuddle for a while. The comfortable silence makes way for a deep slumber, as both of you fall asleep listening to the sound of each other's heartbeats.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

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yarrystyleeza · 1 year ago

Note

Congratulations on the milestone, friend!!! 🎉🎉 I’m so excited for you! 💖

So for your sleepover event I’d like to send in a request for someone that is probably NOT expected from me. Can I please get some fluff for one of my other absolute loves Daryl Dixon? Maybe something fluffy about being unable to fall asleep? Possibly something with a love confession? Whatever feels right for you I'd be excited to read! I miss my crossbow wielding love 😭❤

Thank you so much, Bella! This was definitely a milestone, and it wouldn't have been possible without you, thank you again! 🥰💞

And as for the request, I had such a fun time writing it, I missed Daryl so much and your request brought back so many memories 🥺💞💞💞

Night Birds (D.D)

Requested by @bellaxgiornata

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female!reader — friends to lovers

Prompt: fluff, one bed trope, unable to fall asleep, love confession

Word count: 2.2k!

Writer's note: this took me a while to write, not just because I haven't written anything for Daryl in more than 3 years, but the story building wasn't easy, and I just hope it's enjoyable and fun. Also, this lil fic is heavily inspired by Panic! At The Disco's out of the Vault "night birds", unfortunately it was taken down from YouTube due to copyright issues but here's a snippet of it on twt

"shit." you muttered under your breath, looking at the one bed at the end of the cabin, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose. You and Daryl left Alexandria and went scavenging this morning, but your journey took way longer than expected and it was dangerous for you to take the road back home in this wintery night.

You twisted your lips in a thoughtful pout, Daryl soon notices that after he had locked the cabin door. "what?" he narrows his blue eyes as he asks, "it's a..." you gesture in the direction of the bed, "oh." he commented..

The two of you stood in place—silently for a full minute before Daryl makes a suggestion. "I can sleep on the floor--" immediately, you shook your head in disapproval, "no, Daryl, it's too cold and you might get sick," you fired back, "but I don' think that thin' can hold us up together, y'know," Daryl objected, "a bed is still a bed, even though it looks old, and rusty, and small... and a little crooked..." you gesture at the odd position the bed was in, tilting your head to try to find any correct angle in this bed.

Daryl stood silent for a moment to recollect his thoughts and you eyed him patiently, he eyed you a little before speaking, you cross your arms, pout your lips and knit your brows, waiting for him to drop the bomb of a thought because you knew what he's about to say now.

"there's another cabin down the road, 15 minute walk from here..." you rolled your eyes with a very loud objective groan, uncrossing your arms, "of course no, Daryl," he mirrored your eye roll, "don't even ask why, you know why, we need to always stick together, like— how am I supposed to make sure you're okay?" you interrupted before he could defend his suggestion, "we have our walkie-talkies--" he shrugged, "we don't," you whispered and he grimaced immediately, "what d'ya mean?" his brows got knitted, you smiled your teeth out.

"I thought it was a quick trip so I thought we didn't really need them..." you twisted your fingers as you answered with a low voice.

You lied about that, you actually brought the devices and you hid them in your backpack, you just wanted him to stay with you.

You've known Daryl for a really long time, you met back at Hershel's farm. You were a lone survivor and you happen to stumble upon Daryl in the woods. You needed a shelter and Hershel's family home provided this for you and in exchange, you helped them on their search for Sophia. Unfortunately it didn't go as intended, and everyone had to face the ugly truth about her death.

But during the search—Daryl accidentally got shot by Andrea and you offered to stay and take care of him—since everyone else was busy; and you found peace in his presence. That was the day you became true friends, inseparable friends.

Wherever Daryl was, you were with him. You were always together on missions, and whenever Rick talked about a scavenging mission you were the first one signing up the moment you know Daryl was on it too. You couldn't truly connect with other members in the group, you were shy and had troubles bonding with a big group of people, but you were always nice to them.

But, Daryl holds a special place in your heart, and you could never deny that. You were two lone wolves who found a little peace of mind together.

Now, you can see how frustrated he is, the look of both anger and worry are soaking his gentle features. "I'm sorry, Daryl," you muttered softly between your teeth, he shrugged, "forget 'bout it, pet."

You took your backpack off your shoulder and placed it by the end of the bed, you kicked your shoes off and slipped out of your heavy winter jacket. You fluff your hair and gently you lie down the mattress and your body sinks in. You were exhausted.

You watch Daryl as he makes his way to the bed, his expression is a little unsure of his actions and it was confusing, you rarely saw that face of him, he's nervous, silent and red. Daryl slowly sits on the edge of the bed, he lies down on your left side and you feel how timid he is.

"goodnight, Daryl," you lie on your back and you fix your eyes on the ceiling, he shifts a little, mirroring your pose but his hands are behind his head, his leather covered elbow brushes your cheek softly. "goodnight, pet," Daryl gently replies.

And you stay like that for hours, both facing the ceiling, you start counting the cracks in the wooden surfaces and they're twenty one, you want to pull your eyes out of their sockets to force yourself to sleep but you can't, the clock hanging on the wall had long died, you feel like a nocturnal animal who's unable to close its eyes but feeling drunk and paralyzed, you're too aware of how loud your heart is pumping tonight, you can feel every particle of dust falling onto your skin, and your breathing is so audible that you feel it ringing in your ears, it's uncomfortable and overwhelming.

Your eyes glance to the side and you notice how silent Daryl is, but he wasn't asleep either. "you can't sleep, right?" you mumble, your eyes are back on the ceiling, recounting the clefts, did their number increase?

"nah, and I guess you aren'..." he replies with the same calm tone, still looking up. "do you remember that night—back at Hershel's farm when neither of us was able to fall asleep?" you try to remind him.

The night Daryl got shot, you drank a huge amount of coffee in order to stay awake and take care of him, it was a terrible decision, because you spent the night and the next morning—shaking in weakness. And Daryl was in so much pain he couldn't close his eyes either but kept lying to you—telling you it feels more like a scratch. You kept hearing him groaning quietly and you kept petting his head to try and make his focus shift to the movement of your fingers in his hair. It was a very exhausting night but you woke up collapsed over Daryl as you had sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"I get the same vibes here," your heart beats faster, you have no idea why you're nervous but you are. "us getting stuck together and having to deal with each other," you chuckle a little as you recall the events, "you were so pissed about me following you everywhere but then you got shot and I had to stay the night and take care of you," you keep on talking, almost feeling like you're talking to yourself. Daryl was silent, it was a little heartbreaking that he had no reaction to it.

"jeez, sorry for giving you a headache--" you sigh, tears almost stray out of your heavy eyelids, "at all, pet, I love listening to ya talkin' bout anythin'," he cuts you off, you feel his weight shifting next to you, you glance to the side and you see his blue eyes shining back at you in the dim light.

"I thought you were annoying at first but, I can't lie to ya, turns out you never were, pet," you giggle at his affirmation, "maybe because I'm a little too loud to you," you admit, your energies might have never matched but you still found harmony within it.

You remember the day you got kidnapped by Merle back at Woodbury, Daryl came over with the group to rescue you, Maggie, and Glenn. You were never able to remember anything about that event, never recalled how many hours or days you were gone but there was only one thing you remember for sure, Daryl ran up to you the moment he saw you and hugged you tight—almost crushing you in his arms. Something in you changed and you felt attracted and more attached to him. The worry in his blue orbs, and his tight hug still burns your skin.

Then the day everything fell apart and you had to flee the prison. You were introduced to the overprotective side of Daryl, he never left your side since then, and you always found yourself safe in his presence.

You never wanted to be away from him, and you hated the fact that you got separated when you first arrived to Alexandria, you were so mad that you picked up a fight with him intentionally so he could spend more time talking to you. You felt torn apart whenever he had to leave for a scavenging mission without you, and you couldn't stand any lady trying to hit on him.

The realization hits you hard... You've been in love with Daryl for longer than you can imagine.

"you look tired, pet, you need t' sleep," you almost chuckle at his words, "wish I could but I can't," you mumble. He half sits on the bed, "c'mere, pet," you look up at him, his arms are open wide for you, your heart twists in your chest as you try to make up your mind. You give up and place your head over his chest, his heart pumping next to your ear, his fingers delicately slip through your hair and he gently moves his tips on your scalp in circular motions, your eyes flutter shut and you snuggle your face into him.

His movement misses around with your heartbeat, poor little thing is thundering in your chest. You truly can't live without him.

"I care so much 'bout you, pet," your heart dropped, could this mean that you weren't the only one feeling it? You weren't so sure about it yet, but you decided you should let him finish his words.

But then his hand travels down, leaving your hair, his palm cups your cheek and his thumb fondles your blushed skin. "I care— so much 'boucha that I never think of anythin' else except for ya," you shift your head to look up at him and you find him staring back down at you.

You couldn't help but lift your head off his chest to sit straight and look directly at him in disbelief, he's astonished by your reaction and you see him lowering his eyes to his now tangled fingers. "I shouldn't 've talked about it, 'm sorry," he mumbles and you shift closer to him.

You don't quite know how you did it, but you aimed a kiss to his lips and he is taken by surprise. The very first time you've ever put your lips on him feels so unique, but you're to scared to indulge in the feeling. You part away from him, his face is unreadable, he turned pale white. Realizing what you just did. Did he actually feel anything for you? Does he even like you back? Was this the right thing to do? Or did you misunderstood the whole situation? You had no answers for those questions.

You're overthinking it a lot that you don't notice him moving closer to you, cupping your cheeks and drawing you into a kiss. Your shoulders fall and your hands envelope the back of his neck, gently tugging onto his long locks. His hands round your waist and you could feel the smile on his lips, he draws you over to his lap and he hugs you tight as the kiss continues.

He kisses you sweetly, and you only melt more into him, fumbling his face with the tips of your fingers, feeling the soft stubble on his cheeks. His hands go back over your cheeks and he's softly caressing them, tucking your hair behind your ears and you feel his lips stretching once again.

Daryl slowly pulls away from you, he's shy, he's nervous, he's flustered, and surely he's shaking but his smile is so big that you could barely see his ocean blue eyes. "so sorry I didn't mean to scare you, I was just—" you say and he giggles at you, "gosh, I love you, Daryl," you chuckle, the small of your hands are still enveloping his cheeks, "I love you too, pet, always did," Daryl slowly pulls you back into another kiss, you both smile as you sip on the uniquely sweet flavor you two created.

"think you can get some sleep now, angel?" Daryl murmured while your lips are still locked upon each other, you nodded with a slight chuckle, "alright, lemme tuck you in, lil' one," you slip from over his lap and he shuffles back to his place, taking you in his arms and resting your head onto his chest, playfully messing with your hair, you round his waist with your leg and snuggle into his chest, he keeps peppering your temple with little pecks until you both fell asleep.

Daryl wakes up early and he gently pulls himself from under you—in fear of disturbing your deep sleep, he gets up and makes his way to the little dining table where he had placed his bag, he scavenges through it for food but he finds nothing.

Daryl tries his luck with your backpack and searches through it, and that's where he finds the walkie-talkies you hid all day long... And you had witnessed his finding yourself.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

#yarrystyleeza #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fic #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #norman reedus

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hoonieswhore · 1 year ago

Text

Heavenly

(Figure skater!Hoon x Vocalist!fem reader)

Summary: Being the leader of a band was pretty easy, working on new songs and making covers with your friends was the best. The only challenge in your life was living with a "stranger" and your best friend.

Warnings: SMAU with written parts. This story will contain smut at some point. Kys jokes. Sexual jokes. LOTS of curses. Comedy. Fluff. Reader and Hoon are low-key enemies. Minors/ageless/blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT or you'll be immediately blocked. If you wanna be tagged, just send an ask (read my rules before you follow though)

This is my first smau so please be patient with me. I'll try to update every day but that depends on how busy I am. I hope you all like it and please keep in mind that English isn't my first language so there might be typos or any kind of errors.

Masterlist!

Profiles

I. ...Ready for it? - Taylor Swift.

II. Here comes trouble - Neoni.

III. Ignorance - Paramore.

IV. I hate you - WOODZ.

V. Best friend - Conan Gray

VI. One of the Drunks - Panic! At The Disco

VII. MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT - Elley Duhé

VIII. It's nice to have a friend - Taylor Swift

IX. Want you back - 5 Seconds of Summer

X. Complete Mess - 5 Seconds of Summer

XI. High Hopes - Panic! At The Disco

XII. Kill My Time - 5 Seconds of Summer

XIII. About love - MARINA

XIV. Delicate - Taylor Swift

XV. Rock with you - SEVENTEEN

XVI. Death Of A Bachelor - Panic! At The Disco

XVII. Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

XVIII. One Day - Imagine Dragons

XIX. Valentine - 5 Seconds of Summer

XX. Falling In Love - Cigarettes After Sex

XXI. Wildflower - 5 Seconds of Summer

XXII. Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex

XXIII. Lover - Taylor Swift

XXIV. Maniac - Conan Gray

XXV. Babylon - 5 Seconds of Summer

XXVI. Sex, Drugs, Etc. - Beach Weather

XXVII. Sarah Smiles - Panic! At The Disco

XXVIII. Dress - Taylor Swift

XXIX. Puzzle Piece - NCT Dream

XXX. Karma - Taylor Swift

XXXI. Criminal Love - Enhypen

XXXII. Die For You - The Weeknd

XXXIII. seven - Taylor Swift

XXXIV. Not In The Same Way - 5 Seconds of Summer

XXXV. Style - Taylor Swift

XXXVI. I Think He Knows - Taylor Swift

XXXVII. jealousy, jealousy - Olivia Rodrigo

XXXVIII. Afterglow - Taylor Swift

XXXIX. Love Me Now - NCT 127

XL. Love Me Harder - WOODZ

XLI. Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

XLII. Sweet - Cigarettes After Sex

XLIII. Animal - Troye Sivan

XLIV. Adore you - Harry Styles

XLV. Crush - Cigarettes After Sex

XLVI. DON'T WANNA SLEEP - Måneskin

XLVII. King Of My Heart - Taylor Swift

XLVIII. The Shining - The Neighbourhood

XLIX. Don't Stop - 5 Seconds of Summer

L. Timezone - Måneskin

LI. Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

LII. Don't Blame Me - Taylor Swift

LIII. Lover Of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer

LIV. Wherever You Are - Kodaline

LV. I Like Me Better - Lauv

LVI. Nicotine - Panic! At The Disco

LVII. Mine (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

LVIII. The Only Exception - Paramore

LIX. About You - The 1975

LX. Heavenly - Cigarettes After Sex

#sunghoon smau #park sunghoon smau #enhypen sunghoon smau #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon au #park sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon au

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 years ago

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But it’s Better if You Do | SR x Fem! Reader

Summary - the Blue Siren strip club is the last place Spencer Reid wants to spend his birthday. And the absolute last thing he needs is to fall for you, the magnetic exotic dancer who Morgan and Luke pay to give him a birthday dance.

A/N - as a rule, I am not technically writing Spencer x Reader right now but this is for @imagining-in-the-margins damsel in distress challenge although it’s a very vague fit. Kind of anti damsel in distress? I don’t know, let’s just roll with it. Candy Shop by 50 Cent is the song used in Magic Mike XXL when Adam Rodriguez does his lil sexy dance so the song choice was an homage to that. Loosely based around the Panic at the Disco song “But it’s Better if You Do.”

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Exotic Dancer Fem! Reader

Category - fluff I suppose? Maybe mild angst. Happy ending.

CW - exotic dancer reader, Morgan and Luke are bad wingmen, hints at lesbian Emily, strip clubs, snarky Spencer, drinking, swearing, Spencer and his inappropriate erection, brief mentions of masturbation, making out.

WC - 8.2k

Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me?

I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.

Praying for love and a lap dance,

And paying in naivety.

The last place Spencer Reid ever expected to find himself on his fortieth birthday was at the Blue Siren Club just off of Dupont Circle. For starters, Spencer wasn’t a big drinker so going to a bar didn’t appeal to him on any other given night, let alone his birthday, but there was much more to the Blue Siren than just being your run of the mill club.

The Blue Siren was well known as being one of the most reputable strip clubs in the district. According to the extensive research Spencer had done when he found out he was to be coming here, it was one of the more exclusive clubs, and if Morgan was to be believed it was popular among law enforcement and other government officials due to its clandestine nature.

From the outside, the Blue Siren looked just like a normal club. If you were to pass it by you may not even glance up at the exposed brick facade and black front door. In the lone window in the front sat a small blue neon sign boosting the club's name and that was all. You wouldn’t be alone in walking right past the establishment without batting an eyelid.

When Luke had suggested the idea to spend his birthday here, Spencer’s immediate reaction had been laughter, because it had to be a joke, right? Strip clubs and Spencer Reid were not a combination anyone who knew him would put together, surely?

“Why are you laughing?” Luke frowned at him, folding his arms across his chest.

“Because you’re making a joke?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Spencer’s laughter came to a sudden halt and he stared at Luke in disbelief. “You…you seriously think that’s how I want to spend my birthday?”

“I was talking to Morgan and-“

“No sentence in the history of the English language that starts with “I was talking to Morgan” has ever had a happy ending.” Spencer scoffed.

“It’s the happy ending part we’re trying to achieve.” Luke smirked at him, a playful hint in his eye that caused Spencer to swallow thickly at the implication.

“Y-you…I…”

“When was the last time you got laid, Reid?”

Spencer felt the moment his cheeks burnt with an intense embarrassment. In all the years he’d known Luke they had never once discussed their sex lives. In fact, Spencer made it a rule to never discuss his sex life with anyone.

“That’s a deeply personal question.” He shrunk in on himself.

“Which is Spencer Reid for, it’s been a while.” Luke smiled knowingly.

“I…I don’t have to answer that.”

“You kinda just did.”

“Regardless,” Spencer shook his head, trying to steer the conversation off of his sex life, or lack thereof. “Strip clubs aren’t brothels. The women don’t sleep with their customers.”

“Morgan and I decided it was slightly more appropriate than buying you a hooker.”

If Spencer thought he was embarrassed before, he was now absolutely mortified.

“I don’t need help getting “laid”, as you so eloquently put it.” Spencer shook his head, turning back to his desk and sorting through some papers to distract himself.

“Don’t you?” An amused voice came from behind him and Spencer groaned, running his hands through his hair. He turned slowly in his chair to see Emily standing over him, an almost delighted look in her eyes. “What are we talking about?”

“Morgan and I want to take Reid to Blue Siren for his birthday next week.” Luke filled her in.

“Oh that place is great!” She beamed. “Can I come?”

“Where are we going?” Rossi seemingly appeared as if from nowhere with his coffee and newspaper.

Spencer grumbled, face palming his hand as the group around him gathered.

“We’re taking Spence to Blue Siren for his birthday.” Emily happily told him.

“Blue Siren? Huh,” Rossi nodded his head. “I haven’t been there for years, count me in. I’ll even see if Hotch wants to join.”

“For the love of god.” Spencer muttered against his hand. No one seemed to hear him and if they did, they ignored him.

“Join what? What did I miss?” Garcia came tottering in on her too high heels, laptop balanced precariously in the crook of her arm.

“Apparently the kid wants to go to a strip club for his birthday.” Rossi informed her.

“No, No.” Spencer shook his head, looking up at them. “The kid does not want to go to a strip club for his birthday.”

“Oh isn’t it the big four-oh?” Garcia bounced up and down in excitement. “You have to do something special for it!”

“I highly doubt a strip club can be deemed as special.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Strip club?” Matt strolled into the conversation now and Spencer wanted to just vanish into thin air.

“Yeah we’re taking Reid for his birthday. Want in?” Luke asked him.

“As long as no one ever tells Kristy.” Matt chuckled.

“What aren’t we telling Kristy?” Tara popped her head up from her desk, Spencer didn’t even know she was there.

“That we’re going to a strip club for Reid’s birthday.” Matt offered her a sly smile.

“Oh sweet! Count me in.” She grinned.

“How about you guys go, since you’re all so excited about it and just tell me how it was? I’ll stay home with a book or something.” Spencer sighed but no one acknowledged him.

The door opened again and JJ meandered in, all eyes turning to look at her.

“Uh, hi?” She laughed awkwardly as she walked across the bullpen.

“Have you ever been to a strip club, Jayje?”

Spencer groaned loudly, crumbling in on himself and smacking his head against the hardwood of his desk. Sometimes it was just easier to go along with these things than try to fight them.

And so, only slightly against his will, Spencer let them talk him into spending his birthday in the last place he ever expected to find himself, least of all on his birthday. The whole team was in attendance, plus Morgan and Hotch, he could only assume to have a front row seat to his complete mortification. They met outside the club, waiting for JJ who was late due to the fact she couldn't get Michael to go to sleep. Luke had gone so far as to pick Spencer up from his apartment, which was in the opposite direction, just so the birthday boy wouldn’t have an excuse for ditching them at the last minute.

“Is that really what you’re wearing to go to a strip club, pretty boy?” Morgan nudged Spencer in the arm.

Spencer glanced down at his attire, what he would call a sensible outfit but was clearly not what he was supposed to be wearing given Morgan’s judgemental gaze. It wasn’t a far cry from what he wore everyday, it wasn’t as though Morgan had never seen him dress like this before. He’d donned a perfectly pressed pair of black slacks, pairing them with his old faithful converse, a crisp blue button down and his black Comme Des Garçons cardigan Rossi had gifted him for his birthday a few years ago. He’d decided against a tie, because that seemed too formal for the occasion even for him.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He frowned, pouting a little.

He quickly eyed up the other men who were all wearing jeans and t-shirts, Rossi and Hotch included. He couldn’t even get started on how strange it was to see Hotch in jeans.

“You look like a TA.” Matt shrugged.

“I always look like a TA. Do you guys think I suddenly dress differently outside of work?” He folded his arms.

“I kind of hoped you did.” Luke smirked.

“Isn’t it supposed to be my birthday?” Spencer grumbled. “I’m already at the last place I want to celebrate so please can we just leave my outfit choices alone?”

“I think you look dapper.” Tara patted his shoulder like he was her annoying kid brother or something.

“Thanks?” He pulled a face.

“And speaking of birthdays!” Garcia was rummaging in her oversized purse before pulling something out. “Voila!”

Spencer frowned at the large, slightly garish, blue and yellow badge proclaiming “Forty Today” in obnoxious bubble font. It was bigger than Garcia’s hand, she surely didn’t expect him to wear that.

“Uh, no offence but there is no way in hell you are getting me to wear that.” He took it from her anyway, slotting it in the front of his satchel.

“Spoil sport.” Emily chided him. “Anyone would think you don’t like your birthday!”

“I don’t very much like this particular birthday.” He muttered under his breath. “Where is Jennifer? I’d really like to just get this over with.”

As if on cue, he heard heels on the concrete ground and seconds later the blonde appeared, dragging someone behind her. She smiled as she came round the corner, tugging Will into view under the streetlamp.

Oh good, more people to witness my humiliation.

“Hey guys, sorry we’re late!” She gave them apologetic glances.

“Will, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Penelope hugged JJ and then Will.

“You think I was going to sit at home while my wife goes to a strip club?” He chuckled. “I may never get the opportunity to have permission to do this again in my life. Thanks Spence.”

“You’re so very welcome.” Spencer replied sarcastically. “Can we just get on with this now?”

“That’s the spirit.” Luke chuckled, draping his arm around Spencer’s shoulders and leading him through the non-descript door.

Inside a long, narrow corridor stretched out before them, the distant thrums of bass heavy music, causing the floor to feel like it was vibrating beneath him. A burly doorman awaited them, so broad he almost encompassed the entire corridor.

“Hey man, I have a reservation under Alvez. It's this guy's big four-oh.” Luke gripped Spencer tightly, shaking him a little.

The doorman glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand, scanning over it for a second before looking back up at the motley crew, clearly trying to discern if he needed to card anyone but it was immediately clear he didn’t.

“Follow me,” He motioned for them to come with him.

Luke took the lead, dragging Spencer by his hold on his shoulders. The music got louder the further down the black corridor they got. It was dark and Spencer had to squint to see the man only a few feet in front of him, the corridor only lit by a single red light bulb swinging from the low ceiling that Spencer almost had to duck to walk under.

At the end of the corridor was another door and the music had reached fever pitch at this point. Spencer felt as though he could taste the beat, he could certainly feel it palpitating in his chest. The doorman shoved open the door and Spencer blinked against the sudden wave of lights that smacked against his retinas.

Luke finally let go of his shoulders, the doorway too narrow for the two of them to pass through together and motioned Spencer in front of him. Spencer stepped into the room, surprised by the sudden change in flooring, casting his eyes down to see a plush burgundy carpet now under foot. He tried not to contemplate how many germs were living in that carpet, how many drinks had been spilled and soaked into it over the years, how many other fluids it might have absorbed on top of it. He was sure this place would light up like a christmas tree under a black light.

He grimaced, looking back up and following in the doormans footsteps across the room. He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead, desperate not to look around and take in his surroundings but his morbid curiosity got the better of him.

Admittedly if he’d imagined what the inside of a strip club would look like this would have been plucked straight from his imagination. The main lighting was low, shielding most of the seating area in an almost ominous glow. The booths were made up of plush, gold velvet sofas, large dark oak tables in the centre of them. There was a long bar on one side, made of the same oak only its surface seemed to glitter when the light hit it. Over the back were two large velveteen curtains, concealing what Spencer could only assume was the private dance areas. There were four raised platforms each with their own golden, floor to ceiling pole in the centre, blue spotlights pointed at each one. Each podium had a scantily clad young girl dancing in upon it and Spencer quickly averted his gaze again, not wanting to be seen to objectify them.

“You know the whole reason they are there is to be looked at right?” Morgan was suddenly at his side, nudging him in the arm.

“It feels very…voyeuristic.” Spencer swallowed.

“Have you seriously never been to a strip club, Reid?” Matt was now at his other side.

“Why is that so hard to believe? Do I really strike you as the kind of guy who goes to strip clubs?” They arrived at the table and Morgan motioned for Spencer to take a seat while the others sat around him.

“It’s usually the quiet ones.” Morgan smirked at him.

“I cannot believe Savannah is ok with you being here.”

“She was fine with it when I told her it was for your birthday.” Morgan winked at him.

“Do I need to tell you what I told Luke? This is not a brothel, I am not getting laid here.” Spencer sighed in exasperation.

“It's not too late to take you to a brothel, kid.” Rossi smirked, before excusing himself to the bar.

“This is the lesser of the two evils, trust me.” Spencer sat back against the plush seat and tried to keep his eyes to himself. It was a difficult feat when just in front of them was another podium with a blonde woman dancing in the skimpiest pair of underwear Spencer had ever seen.

“No deflowering of boy wonder tonight, please.” Garcia giggled.

“Deflower…you are aware I am not a virgin, right?” Spencer pulled a face, was that how people saw him?

“I was joking, Spence, calm down.” Garcia rolled her eyes, still tittering to herself.

“It's that kind of defensive attitude that makes people think you are.” Luke, who was sitting on his left, nudged him.

“I’m fairly certain if I said the same to you, you would be just as defensive.” Spencer shook his head.

Just then, Rossi returned carrying a tray of champagne flutes and setting them on the table in the centre. He was closely followed by another young woman carrying an ice bucket in each hand, each with a bottle of the club's most expensive champagne chilling inside.

Spencer didn’t want to look, really didn’t want to be seen to objectify, but the scent of lavender perfume seemed to flood his senses, his brain, and he could no longer think straight all of a sudden. His eyes which had been attached to the floor glanced over to the pair of deep purple, satin peep toe heels which were standing right in front of him. Slowly his eyes trailed upwards, over a set of long, smooth legs, until meeting a silk pair of dangerously tiny panties, matching the shoes in colour, which he quickly scanned over. His eyes worked up the torso until they came to the chest and the purple silk bra that really left very little to the imagination. Swallowing thickly, his eyes continued their ascent to the face and that’s when time seemed to slow to a halt.

Spencer quivered, actually trembled as he took in your soft features and dazzling eyes. The smile on your lips as you looked at him seemed genuine, and not at all like it was a pain for you to be here. You set down the ice buckets and went about opening one of the bottles, pouring everyone a glass. When you poured Spencer’s glass, bending a little as you did so, his eyes couldn’t help the way they dipped to your cleavage spilling out over the top of your bra.

He quickly snapped his gaze away and thanked you with a shaky smile. He crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to hide an arising problem in his pants.

“I’m Y/N, I’ll be your host for the evening.” You had to speak loudly to be heard by everyone over the pulsing music in the club. “Which one of you is the birthday boy?”

Your eyes flicked between the men in the group, well all of them except the all guy who had paid for the drinks. You’d been informed it was a fortieth birthday, there was no way it was him.

“This guy right here,” Morgan grinned, gripping Spencer by the shoulders.

You looked back at the slightly shy, uptight man in his shirt and cardigan, who was holding onto his champagne flute for dear life. He was not your usual clientele, if you didn’t know any better you would think he didn’t want to be here at all.

“Well, I guess it’s my lucky night.” You couldn’t help but wink at him and even in the low light you saw the way his cheeks instantly flushed pink.

Usually in your line of work, exotic dancing, not stripping, thank you very much, the men you were paid to dance for were older, usually kind of creepy. Admittedly none of the younger men at the table were bad on the eyes, but this one was especially handsome, even if he was absolutely pertrided.

“What’s your name, stud?” You placed one hand on your hip and the other you held out for him to shake.

You saw him swallow, taking a sip of his drink as if to lubricate his mouth so he could speak.

“S-Spencer.” He took your hand and shook it. It was warm and so much larger than your own, even if it was a little sweaty.

“Nice to meet you, S-Spencer.” You teased, hoping to ease some tension but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

He shrunk in on himself, grimacing a little and looking as though he would quite literally rather be anywhere else in the world.

“You too.” His voice jumped several octaves.

Most of the rest of the team watched in amusement at Spencer’s discomfort, all of them aside from Emily who had wandered off to watch a redhead dance, tossing dollar bills at her and Luke who although was still seated, clearly had his eyes on the blonde on the podium in front of them.

“So, shall we get to the good stuff?” You asked him now and he almost choked on his drink.

“G-good stuff?” His eyes widened in terror.

“Your friends here paid for you to have a private birthday dance. They didn’t tell you?”

Spencer clenched his jaw and turned to his friends, anger leaching from his eyes.

“I would like to go on record and say I did not invest any money in this particular endeavour.” Hotch was quick to speak up.

“This is just from me and Alvez. Happy birthday, stud.” Morgan winked at him.

If Spencer was a violent man, he would have wrung Morgan’s neck, maybe bashed his and Luke’s heads together until they lost consciousness. He was fairly certain after all his years on the job he could murder them both and get away with it.

Maybe if you hadn’t been there, standing over him and looking so goddamn delicious in his favourite colour as well, he might have given the two men an ear full. But it wasn’t the time or place and so he swallowed his anger, keeping it bottled up until later and turning back to you.

“Let’s just…get this over with.” Spencer stood up, grabbing his glass and the full bottle of champagne, god knows he was going to need it, and following you towards one of the curtained off areas.

You held the curtain back for him to enter first and he did so without letting himself think about what was going to happen when the two of you were alone. The private room was much the same as the main room, only smaller with no bar. There was another plush golden couch in the centre, a smaller raised platform with a pole on the far wall. The wallpaper was a deep, cherry red, swirled with black and a gold chandelier hung from the ceiling offering, once again, very little light.

Spencer could only assume he was supposed to sit, so slightly reluctantly he dragged his pathetic ass to the couch and sat in the centre of it. He downed the remains of his champagne before swiftly uncorking the bottle. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his large, veiny hand expertly pulling the cork from the bottle, like it was the easiest thing in the world. You shuddered a little at the thought of what else his hands might be capable of.

He discarded the glass on the floor and opted instead to drink straight from the bottle, not something Spencer would ever usually do, but this whole night was so out of the ordinary for him, he decided to just lean into it. You came and stood in front of him, hands on your hips as you looked down on him.

“Not big into sharing?” You smirked at him.

“You…I assumed because you were working…”

You chuckled, reaching out and taking the bottle from his hands and taking a hefty sip. You felt the bubbles tickle the back of your throat and branch out towards your brain.

“I can indulge a little, as long as I don’t get off my face. Besides, the alcohol helps when the customer is particularly…” you searched for the right word. “Old. Ugly. Generally gross.”

Spencer frowned at you, processing your words.

“I guess Alvez and Morgan didn’t spring for the package where you pretend to be nice to me.” He tried to not sound as pathetic as he felt but failed miserably.

To his surprise you giggled in response, handing him back the champagne.

“Trust me, stud, you’re one customer I don’t need to drink to have fun with.” You winked at him and heard a little whimper leave his lips. He tried to cover it up by drinking more.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against the bottle top. “Let’s just…I don’t suppose we can just sit here and pretend you gave me a lap dance?”

“Not a chance.” You smiled, sauntering on your heels over to the stereo setup in the corner. You hit play and music pulsed into the room through the speakers situated in each corner. Spencer woefully recognised the song as 50 Cent’s Candy Shop, he’d heard Morgan listen to it on more than a few occasions over the years.

You strutted back over to him, wiggling your hips to the music as you went. Spencer tried to keep his eyes trained on the bottle as he drank, refusing to let himself look at you. You made it back over to him and once again took the bottle from his hands. You sipped from it delicately, bending over to place it on the floor, ensuring to give Spencer a show of your ass as you did so.

A low hiss left his lips, probably at the realisation you were wearing a thong. God you were going to enjoy this.

You stood back up and started swaying to the music, stepping between his open legs. He looked up at you through frightened doe eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you’d ever seen. His long, messy curls fell in his face and his pouty bottom lip was too kissable for words. You shook that thought off as fast as you could.

You turned you away from him, thinking it easier if you didn’t look at his gorgeous face. You knew his eyes went straight to your bare ass, you could practically feel his gaze on you.

“You can touch me, Spencer, just nowhere inappropriate please.” Really you wanted those hands to touch you everywhere inappropriate but that kind of behaviour was frowned upon within the walls of the club.

“I’m…I’m good.” He croaked.

You smiled to yourself as you slowly lowered yourself into his lap, perching at first on his knees before wiggling backwards.

Spencer gasped loudly as your ass settled into his crotch and without even looking at him you knew he would be one hundred shades of red.

It certainly wasn’t the first time a man had gotten hard when you’d given them a lap dance and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. It may well be the first time you’d enjoyed it though.

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpered, your back now flush with his chest, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “I am so, so sorry. This is humiliating.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” You grinded against him in time to the music. “I know I am attractive and I am also half naked. Honestly, I’d be a little offended if you weren’t excited by that.”

“Right. Right.” Spencer nodded, wishing he could reach the champagne bottle. “So uh…how does one get into this line of work? Stripping.”

He needed to try and take his mind off of how unfathomably good you felt rolling your ass against his dick.

“I’m not a stripper.” You chided him, pinching his knee with your long acrylic nails as punishment. “I’m an exotic dancer. I don’t take my clothes off. Well, no more so than this.”

He grumbled at the pain you inflicted on his leg but the pleasure more than outweighed it.

“Apologies, I hope I wasn’t out of line.”

“It’s ok, it’s a common misconception. And I started working here to help pay my student loans. I stayed because I love what I do.” You grinded particularly hard against him and he whimpered against your neck.

“You went to college?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, I’m not some bimbo, stud.” You rolled your eyes, another common misconception.

“Sorry.” He clenched his jaw, his cock twitching dangerously in his pants. “What uh, what did you study?”

“Psychology.”

“No kidding?” He sounded genuinely impressed. “You have a degree in psychology and you work here?”

You suddenly turned around, kneeling over Spencer, one leg hooked over each of his thighs. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, swallowing thickly.

“Look, you’re cute but don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of moron and try to make me feel like working here makes me less of a person.” You reached and gripped his jaw, digging your fake nails into his stubbly cheeks.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that, I-“

“I choose to work here.” You cut him off, lowering yourself so you were seated in his lap, straddling him. “I enjoy working here. It gives me a sense of power, I’m choosing to show off my body, to turn men like you into pathetic messes.”

Spencer moaned, didn’t even try to disguise it. You let go of his face and went to stand up but Spencer surprised you when his hands flew to your hips, gripping you firmly and keeping you in place.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He spoke, for the first time sounding close to confident. “You’re stunning and clearly good at your job.” He nodded down to his crotch and how he was straining against his slacks. “I didn’t mean to sound patronising or anything like that. I was merely trying to make conversation and I’m sorry if I upset you. But quite frankly, Y/N, if I don’t keeping talking I’m going to do something really fucking stupid.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, stilling your movements as the music came to end. He kept his grip on your hips and you found yourself a little dizzy by the firmness in which he held you.

“Stupid like what?” Your chest heaved with heavy breaths and Spencer’s eyes briefly flicked down and he hissed again at the sight.

“Something that could probably get you fired, and neither of us wants that.” He grinded up against you this time and a soft moan left your lips.

“Jesus,” you whined, the tables well and truly turned. “Can you just…I don’t know…give me a clue?”

Spencer chuckled a little, moving one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and tugging you closer to him. His lips were close to your ear, ghosting over the skin. It was like a switch had been flipped, the shy and awkward guy who hadn’t even wanted a lap dance was gone, replaced by this confident and self-assured man now beneath you.

His breath fanned across the side of your face and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Let’s just say it would involve both of us wearing a lot less clothes and you screaming my name.”

You whimpered like a dog that had just been kicked and attempted to clamp your legs together but his were in the way. Suddenly he dropped both of his hands to his sides and looked at you darkly.

“Get up.” He commanded you and you were dumb to do anything by comply.

“I need to go.” He stood up, snatching up the bottle of champagne. “Thanks for that.”

You watched him scurry away, seemingly reverting back to the shy creature he’d been initially. He fled back through the curtain, leaving you with an intense heat between your legs.

Goddamnit, you swallowed, trying to compose yourself. I might have just found my kryptonite.

***

Two weeks passed and Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time he closed his eyes he saw you sitting in his lap, that goddamn purple lingerie glowing against your skin. It never failed to make him painfully hard in a matter of seconds and he’d spent more time than he could count masturbating over thoughts of you the last two weeks.

Eventually he couldn’t keep himself away if he tried. Emily had given them the weekend off and sitting alone in his apartment on Saturday night, his limbs had moved without the forethought to do so. And of course he’d ended up outside Blue Siren.

He paid the cover charge and saw himself inside, ambling over to the bar and ordering himself a scotch. He watched the room, in a way he was trained to do, watching and waiting for a glimpse of you.

He’d gotten down three drinks before finally he saw you across the room. His cock twitched almost instantly. Today you wore a crimson red lace teddy with shoes to match. He preferred the purple, liked it when you had more skin on display, but you still looked like a fallen fucking angel. An incredibly sexy fallen angel.

He finished the remains of his drink and set the glass down on the bar before heading your way.

As soon as you saw him, you couldn’t help the way your whole face lit up. He looked much the same as he had last time in his smart shirt and slacks but today he’d bypassed the cardigan and had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Stud, you came back.” You smirked at him, placing one hand on your hip.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m on the clock.” You shrugged. “My time has to be paid for.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and fished his wallet out of his pocket, flashing a large wad of bills. He pulled one out and stuffed it in your hand.

“How much will a hundred get me?”

You looked down at the bill wide eyed, seeing it was actually a hundred dollars. You looked back at him with a smile.

“At least a few dances.” You turned on your heels and motioned for him to follow you towards the private room you’d occupied a few weeks ago.

Once inside you watched him get comfortable on the couch.

“You sure you just want to talk? I can dance and talk at the same time, I’m just that good.” You winked at him.

“N-no.” He shook his head. “No dancing, please?”

“Fine.” You chuckled, coming over and sitting next to him on the couch. “What’s up? Must be important if you’re willing to drop a C-Note on me.”

“I uh, I wanted to apologise for my conduct the other week. It was very unlike me and I wanted you to know I’m sorry.” His cheeks flushed.

“Hmm.” You mused. “See, I don’t think it was unlike you. I think you allowed yourself to be completely authentic in that moment, letting out a side of yourself you don’t normally let people see.”

“That psych degree is paying off, I see.” His lip twitched into a small smirk.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“People see me a certain way.” He sighed a little as he spoke. “I’m the smart one, the bookish, awkward one. I’ve been seen that way for as long as I can remember. I guess I grew out of it but no one around me sees that. So maybe I play up the persona a little because it's what’s expected of me.” He confessed, not sure why he was doing so but you oddly put him at ease.

“Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it's easier to play into the expected, to fall into the roles people assign us rather than forge our own identity. You know, I only got my degree to prove I could. I wanted to prove, even if only to myself, that there was more to me than people expected of me. One day I might do something with it but for now, I really do love my job. But now I know I could do something else if I chose to.” You were equally surprised by your honesty.

“My friends brought me here because they think I’m some kind of pathetic sad sack that can’t get laid.” He chuckled wistfully.

“Oh but I bet you have no problem in that department, from what I could tell.” Maybe you leant closer to him, you certainly didn’t mean to, but you were sure he was closer now.

“I do alright.” The glint in his eyes told you he did better than alright and why did that cause a rumble of jealousy in your chest?

This time it was him that leaned closer to you, his large hand finding your thigh. You felt your chest tighten at the way it felt.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” You spoke but you didn’t particularly believe your own voice.

“Not here, certainly not.” He inched his hand higher and you didn’t stop him.

“Not here, not anywhere.”

“Tell yourself that all you want, princess.” He growled the last word, eliciting a whimper from your lips.

“I don’t sleep with customers. Full stop.”

“You sleep with me, I promise I will never come back here.” He dared edge his hand higher, now right at the top of your thigh.

“You should leave.” You said, but you didn’t move or push him away.

“I just paid you a hundred dollars, I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezed your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Maybe I did prefer it when you were shy.”

“No you didn’t.” He smiled in a knowing way. And he was right. “Let me take you out, show you what I’m really like.”

You swallowed, god how you would love that. But no. You couldn’t succumb.

“Not gonna happen.” You took hold of his hand and forcibly removed it from your thigh. You removed the bill he’d given you from where you’d tucked it in the side of your panties and tossed it at him. “Keep your money. Leave before I call security.”

Spencer chuckled to himself, shaking his head and placing the note on the couch, leaving it there as he stood up.

“I’m not a threat, you don’t need to call security.” He held his hands up in defeat. “I think you know as well as I do that there's something between us, I just don’t know why you won’t admit to it. But whatever, I’ll go.”

He went to move past you but as he did, his fingers circled your wrist. He turned your hand over and forcibly put his business card in your open hand.

“In case you change your mind, princess.” With that he was gone, leaving your legs shaking in his wake.

You looked down at the card in your hand and frowned to yourself as you read the words adorned on it.

Doctor Spencer Reid. FBI.

Huh. That was an interesting turn of events.

***

Spencer didn’t return to the club again, respecting your boundaries and just holding onto a small glimmer of hope that you would call. But weeks passed and you never did.

In all honesty, he wasn’t that surprised. He expected you’d tossed the card the minute he’d walked through that curtain and never given him a second thought.

He didn’t often allow himself to get close to people for this very reason. When Spencer fell for someone it happened fast and hard and now you were the only thing he could think of and it was tearing him in two.

It was Morgan and Luke’s fault. Them and their dumb idea to take him to a strip club for his birthday. He decided his next birthday was cancelled, the one after that too. Screw it, all his birthdays were cancelled indefinitely.

Thankfully due to the BAU’s heavy caseload and him teaching classes at Marlborough University, he didn’t have a whole lot of time to dwell on you, which was for the best.

He’d just have to resign himself to being alone again. Just like always.

***

For weeks that card felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket. You didn’t intend on calling Spencer, but you just couldn’t get rid of it. There was something different about him, something that begged you to get to know him. But you had to resist temptation, it would only end badly like it always did.

Still, you couldn’t help but picture his face when you gave an old, sad man a lap dance, wishing it were him instead. It never failed to send chills down your spine when you thought of the way his persona had flipped from shy and slightly nerdy, to suddenly so self assured.

But you had to stop thinking about him. Thinking about him was fruitless. But of course you couldn’t, because like it or not, you were going to see him again.

You’d almost considered pulling out of the class, as soon as you’d seen his name on the business card you knew it would be a bad idea to go through with it. But you’d been excited about this for months and you really didn’t want to wait another semester to take it. You just had to hope you could get through it without incident, however unlikely that seemed.

“Ok, let's take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor. A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behaviour whereas a stressor is a longer term pattern of behaviour or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would. You might want to write this down. I probably shouldn’t be telling you guys this but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”

You watched the brunette a few rows in front of you coyly tell Professor Reid she was simply auditing the class. You couldn’t help but smirk when an array of other beautiful girls raised their hands when he asked who else was auditing. He was the youngest, best looking professor on campus, it was no surprise his class had drawn in a crowd of young girls to fawn over him.

“Uh…ok.” He shook his head, checking his watch. “Unfortunately that is all the time we have for today. Thank you guys.”

You stayed seated while the rest of the class filtered out, watching him collect a stack of papers and put them in his worn satchel before turning to erase the writing on the whiteboard. You stuffed your laptop away and crept down the stairs towards the front of the class, fingers toying with the small white piece of card.

“What was your stressor, Professor? Or should I say, Doctor?”

You saw his back go rigid and for a moment or two he didn't move a muscle. He set the whiteboard eraser down and slowly turned around as you waved his business card at him. He couldn’t help the way his eyes raked up and down your body, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, more than he was used to seeing on you. He still thought you looked like a goddamn angel.

“Uh, I’m sorry, what?” He frowned, clearly at a loss for words.

“You said a stressor is a longer term pattern of behaviour or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would. When I first met you, you behaved differently than you normally would, am I right? Pretending to be this shy, awkward little thing.” You quipped your eyebrow at him.

“For the record I wasn’t pretending. It wasn’t some kind of ruse or something. I am generally shy and awkward. But I have learnt to assert myself when I need to, for instance, when I see something I want. I got carried away that night at the club and I’m sorry for that, that was out of character for me.” He leant back against the edge of the desk and perched on it. “Why are you in my class, Y/N?”

“I signed up for this class before I met you. I didn’t even know you were the professor until you gave me your card.” You shrugged a little nervously.

You were more uncomfortable in normal social settings. At the Blue Siren, where you commanded the room, the confidence oozed for you. But in the real world you were much uncomfortable in your own skin.

“You want to be a profiler?” He scrutinised you with his gaze.

“Maybe someday. I told you, I don’t necessarily want to work at the club forever, I want options.”

“But you love your job.” He repeated what you’d told him.

“I do.” You nodded. “If this is going to be weird I can drop out. I can go to Georgetown next semester, although their professor is not a legit FBI agent with the BAU.” You chuckled a little.

“Why would it be weird?”

“Because,” you shrugged. “Since the second you turned around and saw me standing here, you’ve been undressing me with your eyes.”

Spencer smiled, a hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

“I have, it's true.” He agreed. “I can’t help it if I’ve already seen so much of it.”

“I don’t think you should want to sleep with your students.”

“There’s no rule against it.” He chuckled, pushing himself back to his feet. “My students are all over the legal age, if I was to sleep with one of them, it would be completely consensual and no rules would be broken.”

“You’re talking from experience.” You stated and his eyes playfully glistened.

“Maybe.” He shrugged but his face said it all. “I told you, I do alright.”

“Well, I can tell you for a fact I won’t be one of them.”

“And that’s your loss.” He turned his back on you now and started gathering up his things, slinging his satchel over his head. “Excuse me, I have papers to grade.”

You watched him saunter away, leaving you standing there in confusion and a little turned on if you were honest. He shoved open the door and exited the classroom and before you could think it through you were following hot on his heels. You caught up to him in the corridor as he was unlocking his office door. He spotted you in his peripheral vision.

“My office hours are on Wednesday.” He pushed open the door. “If you need something you can come…”

He trailed off when you pushed past him, entering his office ahead of him. He frowned and followed you inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

“What?” He sighed, taking off his bag and dropping it in the chair next to the door. “You asked me to leave the club that night and I did. I gave you my number, I left the ball in your court and you didn’t call and that’s fine. I walked away! So why are you pursuing me?”

“I won’t give it up.” You blurted out, causing a heavy frown to form on Spencer’s face.

“Give up what?” Had he missed a part of the conversation?

“The club, I love my job.”

“I know you do.” His frown deepened. “Why would you have to give it up?”

“Do you know how many men I meet that think I’m some kind of damsel in distress that needs saving? They swoop in, on their fucking white horse and think they can rescue the poor, broken stripper.”

“Exotic dancer.” Spencer corrected you with a smirk. You huffed somewhat childishly.

“Whatever. They think they can change me. Men always think I’m some kind of fucking damsel in distress that needs saving from the big bad world of strip…exotic dancing. That’s why I don’t date customers, not because it's not allowed. I’ve made the mistake before and it always ends the same. So stop looking at me like you want to fuck me, because its never going to happen!”

Spencer simply looked at you curiously while you ranted, voice getting louder with each syllable. Confusingly he was smiling when you finished.

“Can I speak now?” He had a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“If you have to.” You rolled your eyes.

Spencer took a few steps away from the door and you felt yourself growing weaker the closer he got to you. He was magnetic, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m certain I never once said that I have any kind of issue with your profession and I certainly never asked you to quit. Am I right?”

“Y-yes.” You swallowed, catching the scent of his cologne.

“If you’ve found something you love I would never dream of keeping you from that. Honestly, I admire you. It takes a lot of bravery and a lot of confidence to do what you do and god…you do it so well. Why would I ever want to take that from you?” He was so close now and you were begging him to touch you even though it was a bad idea.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Yes, princess, you do.” He smirked. “You made an assumption about me, the same way I admittedly did when I first met you. But I was wrong and I acknowledged that. It’s only fair for you to do the same.”

He raised his hand and your legs shook before he even touched you, at the sheer anticipation of it. It came up to cup your jaw, firmly enough that you could feel his fingers squeezing your jawbone.

“Y-you don’t want to change me?” You whimpered.

“Why mess with perfection?” He bowed his head, his lips so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of them. “I’m no knight in shining armour, Y/N, I’m not rushing in to try and save you. And you are most certainly not a damsel in distress. You are a strong, independent woman and I would be lucky to merely exist in your orbit.”

You mewled, trying to move closer to him, to crash your lips against his but he held you firmly in place, chuckling at your eagerness. For the first time in a long time you felt all your bravado melt away, all the confidence you had on stage at the Blue Siren was washed away, leaving you a trembling mess in front of this man. And normally that kind of vulnerability would cause you to run for the hills. But being vulnerable with Spencer didn’t seem all that bad.

“Can you,” you swallowed, eyes glued on those pouty lips of his. “Please…just kiss me already, stud.”

Spencer laughed and for a moment you thought he might not comply. But then he closed the small space between you and you finally got to feel those pillowy lips pressing against yours. He gripped the back of your neck firmly, keeping you in place, as if you would go anywhere.

Maybe one day Spencer would thank Morgan and Luke for the birthday present, this was one he’d surely cherish, as long as you would let him.

Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me?

I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.

Praying for love and a lap dance,

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