#ready mixed cocktails

[poisoncocktails]

[dhampurgreen123]

Get Refreshment in Every Sip with Green Mocktail Drinks

This Infographic Gives Informations Aout Benefits Of green mocktail drinks .

Benefits :-

1.Refreshing and Energizing

2.Alcohol-Free Option

3.Low in Calories

4.Digestive Aid

5.Nutrient-Rich

[butterbourbonandothersins]

Batch & Bottle Ready-to-Serve

These premade cocktails allow you to enjoy a perfectly crafted drink without the hassle of measuring ingredients, mixing, and cleaning up.

[reilemon]

🍸⋆｡°✩ Passion Star Martini ✩⋆｡°🍸

♡︎ synopsis: Xavier can't help but feel a little jealous when he sees you having a good time on the dancefloor.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: drinking alcohol, some grinding on the dancefloor, semi-public sex (bathroom sex), hair pulling (just a little), Xavier being a tease (and possessive), also choking (barely tho)

♡︎ word count: 3k

♡︎ a/n: Is it dancefloor or dance floor? 🕴️

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

You exit the bathroom after freshening up. Tonight, one of your friends is celebrating her birthday at a nightclub and you are so glad you had time and energy to go out because you were having a blast. First of all, you’re with all of your friends, the DJ was playing good music (he also said that he’ll grant you and your friend a music wish, something that never happens) and the bartender made your favorite cocktail just right. Also, you know you look good because you’re wearing your new favorite mini dress and your hair and makeup are flawless. But most importantly, your boyfriend is here!

Xavier came to the club after you drank your first cocktail. He finished his mission later than expected, and on top of that, he also needed to shower and dress up. The two of you never spent an actual night out together, so you were hoping that he’ll show up. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t, but there is something so exciting about enjoying some mindless fun with your partner while also looking cute. Hot, actually.

When you noticed him approaching your booth, your excitement fizzled out immediately because you noticed how tired he is. He didn’t let it show, but you spent enough time with him to know by just his walk that he is ready for bed.

He settled next to you after greeting you and your friends. He gave you a peck on the lips and then his eyes took in your whole figure “You look stunning.” You heard his voice good enough over the music.

You blushed and thanked him, wrapping your arms around his bicep. You’ve received so many compliments this evening, but his is the only one that mattered.

Now that you can got a better look at his face and his heavy eyelids, you couldn't help but feel guilty. “You really didn’t have to come if you’re so tired.”

He looked at you for a moment then shook his head. “I’m not. Let’s go get drinks.”

He was in fact tired. Poor guy started nodding off in the booth after getting drinks, so you tried to convince him to go home, but he was set on staying. Downing your second drink, you hit the dancefloor with your friends, letting your boyfriend continue sleeping resting his eyes in the booth.

You go back to your friends, just in time to hear the DJ playing the song you requested. You were hoping you’d be dancing with your boyfriend to it, so you glance at the booth, hoping he’s awake. Your eyes scan in the direction where he should be, but you only see some of your friends sitting there.

A gasp escapes your lips when a hand snakes around your waist from the opposite direction.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

To say that Xavier was exhausted was an understatement. Not only did he get held up at the mission longer, but he had to go to a nightclub as well. His usual routine after finishing work was – shower, eat either alone or with you and then fall asleep reading a book, preferably with you snuggled up in his arms. And he could’ve just rejected your invitation, but he knows that it’s good to break a routine once in a while. But more importantly, he got to spend more time with you like this and in a different setting.

But the darkness inside the nightclub mixed with the bass made him even more tired. And he felt so bad about it, because he saw how excited you were when he came.

And you look so breathtaking. You’re always beautiful but tonight you really went out of your way to look good, and he couldn’t help but stare at your body, how that dress fit you perfectly – and how it barely covered up anything.

His new mission was to stay awake.

But his eyes were betraying him and soon he had to convince you that he’s fine and that he’s just going to rest his eyes for a bit.

With his arms and legs crossed, he started dozing off, the thrumming of the bass weirdly lulling him to sleep.

But then he’d open his eyes, searching for you.

That’s how the beginning of the night went for him – resting his eyes for a moment, and then the next he’s watching you on the dancefloor, making sure that you’re okay.

You were more than okay.

Xavier was happy to see you having a good time, dancing and laughing with your friends. Then you started dancing with your male friend. Nothing inappropriate, but the sight of that man getting to touch you at all made his heart skip a beat. It’s fine, you give him no reason to worry. He doesn’t want to act all jealous and ruin the mood. He should just sit here for a little longer, recuperate some more and then he can join you.

But his mind doesn’t let him rest for long, so he looks for you again.

You wandered off with your friend to the DJ booth. What are you doing there? He can’t get a good look from where he’s sitting, so he stands up and moves through the crowd. He manages to find a good spot where you can’t notice him but he has a good enough view. The way you talk, smile, and even look at that man makes his heart race. And when he sees the way that man checks you out as you walk away is where he gets pissed off.

He shouldn’t be, but he is.

He knew how friendly and flirty you get when you have alcohol in your system, and he can’t blame others for staring because you’re so irresistible.

You walk away from the DJ booth to the bathroom, so he uses that time to go to the bar and take a shot.

He’s wide awake now.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

You crane your neck and your eyes meet Xavier's - those deep blue eyes are definitely not sleepy anymore. The words get lost in your throat under his intense gaze, so you just smile and start dancing to your song. The hand around your waist goes to the middle of your belly to press you against against him, still leaving some space for you to move, while the other one rests on your hip. You act coy as your butt grazes his crotch as you sway and move to the rhythm. You can feel his body move perfectly to the beat, and you can't help but look over your shoulder to see him dance, his hips and shoulders moving in just the right ways while his full attention is on you, which makes him so much more attractive.

The song changes to a slower one so he spins you around, pressing you between your shoulder blades, bringing your chest flush against his. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his firm thigh sneak it's way between your legs and against your clothed sex. You’re met with a lustful gaze when you look at him to comment on the position he has you in. You're speechless once again as his hands start guiding your hips, making you slowly and subtly grind on his thigh.

And you give in.

The dance floor is packed - everybody’s just enjoying themselves, minding their business, lost in the music or drunken daze. The two of you managed to separate from your friends while dancing, and some of them went back to take a break in the booth. You felt like you were in a trance; the bass was pulsating through your body, Xavier’s hands on your hip and lower back, taking the lead and moving your hips in the rhythm of the songs, arousal pooling between your legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a searing kiss. His hand starts roaming - one holds you by the back of your neck while the other one teases it's way under the hem of your dress.

Lithe fingers tickle the soft skin of your inner thighs, making your pussy flutter and you pull back from the kiss, stopping the roaming hand by the wrist "We should go back to my friends."

Xavier exhales through his nose and rests his forehead against yours. "Are you sure?" You open your mouth to answer but the thigh between your legs moves up at a particular angle, catching the hood of your clit and eliciting an embarrassing yelp from your lips.

You hold onto his shoulders as he continues moving his his leg, and you have to gather all of your willpower to resist moving your hips to hump his thigh.

"Xavier, people are gonna see - " You pant, your voice barely reaching him over the music

"So? They should know you're mine." You hear his steely cool voice perfectly.

You frown in confusion as you observe his serious face "What are you - ?"

"Everyone got your attention tonight, what about me?"

You pull away from his embrace at the ridiculous comment, and you can see the instant regret on his face when you do so, with his puppy eyes widening and lips parting.

You barely hear him utter "excuse me" as he lets go of you and hurries off the dance floor.

You stare at his back for a moment, and then you start following him immediately or you'll lose him in the crowd. Squeezing through dancing bodies, you manage to spot your boyfriend's silver fluffy hair going towards the bathrooms. You take in a breath of relief as you stagger away from the stuffy dancefloor, just in time to see Xavier shut the door behind him. The fresh(er) air and brighter lights, also your runaway boyfriend, flush away most of the alcohol buzz you had. Now Xavier is to blame for how wobbly you are in your heels, and your tingling lips.

You knock on the door and call out to Xavier to let you in. A few seconds later, the doors open just enough for you to sneak inside, although there was no one around at the moment.

You step into the single stall bathroom. This one is a little different than the one you were in, with the pink lights and aqua blue lit up sink counter. You love how it actually smells nice and is clean (perks of spending money on a fancy nightclub).

You lock the door and then lean against it, Xavier right in front of you.

You cross your arms "So what was that?"

Xavier, still looking like a hurt puppy, lightly caresses your upper arms "I'm sorry, that was such a stupid comment. I shouldn't complain when I spent the whole night sleeping in the booth."

"But why did you say that everyone got my attention?"

He steps away from you and leans on the sink "I - " He exhales and shakes his head "Doesn't matter. Wanna go back to your friends? Next round's on me."

You push yourself off the door and step towards him "Did I do something? I though we were having a good time."

Xavier softly smiles and shakes his head, "You were wonderful." His fingers graze your cheek and he carefully places a light peck on your lips, worried you might reject him. His shoulders relax when you don't, and he presses a more deliberate kiss.

You uncross your arms, your hands holding his face. You chuckle against his lips "You're such a dummy."

He blushes at your words and laughs softly, his arms wrapping around your torso to pull you into a tight embrace, your head resting on his shoulder.

"And I'm sorry if I took it too far at the dancefloor." He murmurs.

You chuckle and look up at him, "You didn't."

With that, you peck him on the cheek and move to take a look at yourself in the mirror (it's cool that it lights up at a touch), bending over the sink, and Xavier takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, admiring you in the reflection. You smile at him in the mirror before turning the light off.

"We should go back." You tell him when he doesn't move.

And he still doesn't. He only hums in response and starts nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent, hands roaming from your waist, to hold your hips, gently swaying them this time how he pleases.

He whispers, "You look so irresistible," a whimper escapes your lips as he grounds his crotch against your butt, lifting your dress in the motion, "it felt so good to have you dance against me like that."

You hold onto the sink as you arch your back and close your eyes, the feeling of his hard clothed cock rubbing against you awakening your arousal again, the dress now almost completely hiked up. His lips latch onto your neck as they suck hungrily on the sensitive skin, and one hand starts fondling your breast.

"Xavier - " You pant "We have to - " you whisper weakly, the rest of the sentence evaporating from your mind as you feel him sneak a finger over your soaked panties.

"You're right," He coos as the fingertip finds your bud, slowly rubbing it, "We don't wanna keep them waiting."

You don't notice when his hand leaves your breast from how dazed the finger on your clit is making you feel. Then you hear the belt buckle clinking and unzipping, and you only half open your eyes, meeting Xavier's in the mirror.

"That's right bunny, keep your eyes on me" He whisper as he pulls your panties to the side, sliding his cock back and forth between your folds, getting soaked in your essence.

You whimper as the tip pushes through your entrance, the slight sting disappearing quickly as Xavier rubs soothing circles on your clit. His other hand finds your breasts again, impatiently pushing down the top of the dress along with your bra, your breasts spilling out, his fingers toying with your nipples.

Your head drops as he bottoms out and you bite your bottom lip to prevent a loud moan slipping past your lips. But the finger on your sensitive nub is ruthless, making you cream around his thick cock that's starting to piston in and out of your fluttering pussy. He then picks up your leg with his other hand and resting your knee on the sink, giving him a better view of your dripping entrance taking in his dick. You arch your back more, holding onto the sink, eyes squeezed shut, your lips timidly spilling out quiet mewls and whimpers as Xavier is now pounding into you, both hands holding onto your hips in a bruising grip. The squelching sounds of your cunt and skin slapping fills the bathroom and you're sure it can be heard from outside even over the music.

Then you feel one hand on your scalp, grabbing a fistful of your hair and gently tugging it, making you lift you head and look at him in the mirror and your pussy clenches at the sight of his hooded eyes laced with lust, knitted brows and parted lips.

He grunts "Eyes on me pretty girl." The hand on your hair moving to wrap around your throat, only lightly squeezing the sides of your neck. "Let me hear you."

You purse your lips and shake your head, or as much as you can move in his grip.

Suddenly he completely pulls out, and you whine as your needy hole clenches around nothing.

He chuckles and leans forwards, his breath fanning over your ear, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

"I guess we can go back to your friends then."

Your mouth falls open but nothing is coming out. You just gape at him for a few seconds shocked, but then you protest in a breathless voice "But what if someone hears us?"

"Let them." You jolt as he lines himself up again, "I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel." and a loud moan escapes your lips as he grabs your hip and buries himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust.

"Good girl."

Between his own grunts he praises you breathlessly

as he's thrusting vigorously, your butt bouncing with every thrust and smack of his pelvis, his hand leaving your throat to rub your clit again.

you're so beautiful

you're taking me so well

my good girl

The leg that you're standing on starts to shake as you feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your pussy spasming around his cock that's hitting all of your sweet spots.

"Eyes on me, bunny." Xavier rasps, his own release nearing, when he notices your eyes fluttering shut.

With a vice grip on the sink you come hard around his dick, your eyes barely open, and you almost tumble over as your leg gives out from the intensity of your orgasm, but Xavier's hands wrap around your torso to keep you from falling. He presses his own against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as he ruts into you, riding out your high and chasing his own. Xavier buries his face in the crook of your neck, and pants mine, mine, mine before his mouth latches onto the soft skin. Your eyes roll back, head thrown back as he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, burying his throbbing dick inside your still fluttering cunt, and filling you up with his hot cum.

With languid thrusts, the last spurts of his seed come out, both of you catching your breaths and coming to your senses. Xavier sucks and licks the bruised skin and then places a soft kiss on your sweat covered temple.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" You turn your head over your shoulder and you meet those familiar soft eyes.

"I'm okay, don't worry."

With a relieved sigh, he gives your lips a tender kiss.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

Before you exit the bathroom, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, eyeing the angry red love bite.

You turn to Xavier who's unlocking the door, "This is gonna be really hard to hide."

He looks back to see what you're talking about. When you point at your neck, he sweetly says "Sorry about that."

He's not sorry at all.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar. 

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive. 

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real. 

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again. 

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right. 

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide. 

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 3: Go with the Flow

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You get to know the other hotel moguls and their partners a bit more at a lavish cocktail party, and things begin to heat up between you and Joel.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, sexual tension, flirting, sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics, smutty thoughts, alcohol and food consumption

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

He tipped me.

Yay! How much?

I don't know, I didn't open it.

Why???

You stared down at your phone, Celine's words jumping out at you from the screen. It was a good question. Why didn't you open it? You could tell yourself it didn't matter how much it was. It wasn't like you were spending your own money for the next month, anyway. But when you looked over at the nightstand where the envelope still sat untouched, you knew deep down why you didn't open it.

I don't know, guess it took me by surprise or something

You heard a light tap on your bedroom door and you looked up from your phone. "Yeah?"

"You're up. Good," Joel's muffled voice said from the other side. "Wanted to see if you were hungry."

I gotta go get ready for breakfast, I'll call you later

Be safe!

"Ten minutes!" you called back to him before flicking your comforter off and hurrying to your closet to pick out something to wear. You settled on a pair of wide leg linen pants and a light pink sleeveless top that showed just a sliver of your midsection. There were too many accessories to choose from so you did your best to keep it simple with a dainty chain necklace and pink pearl earrings, then tossed your phone and other belongings into a white purse before swinging your door open and heading down the hall. At the last second, you turned around and grabbed the envelope of cash, tucking it into the bottom of your bag for safekeeping.

You stopped in the bathroom to put on a tiny bit of makeup and a quick brush of your teeth before running your fingers through your hair with a shrug. After meeting Glenn, you felt a lot less pressure to conform and give the appearance of some wealthy socialite and instead, leaned into the relaxed beach vibe he exuded.

"Morning," you said breathlessly when you finally entered the living room. Joel was sitting in the middle of the couch, one ankle casually resting on his knee, legs spread wide and looking completely at ease as he stared down at his phone. He pocketed the device when he heard your voice and stood up, eyes drifting down once to look at your clothes and giving you an appraising nod. If it were any other man standing before you essentially giving you his unsolicited opinion on your choice of outfit, you would have had a few unladylike things to say. But when Joel did it, something inside you preened at his approval.

"Mornin'," he answered, and when he brushed past you to walk towards the door, you caught a whiff of mint and fresh soap mixed with the scent of his hair product.

Fuck, he smelled good.

"What are we doing today?" you asked as you trailed after him.

"Thought we'd settle in, get somethin' to eat, then we got pretty much all afternoon free before headin' over to Glenn's house."

"Oh, we're going to his home?" you asked, stepping on the elevator once the doors opened. He nodded and tapped the button for the second floor, where you remembered seeing some shops and restaurants advertised.

"Yeah, invited all of us over for cocktails by his pool. Supposed to have a beautiful place," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring up at the numbers above the door tick lower.

There were only two restaurants open that served breakfast, so Joel picked the one that had open seating on the patio. The hostess led you both to a table attached to a bright red umbrella fluttering in the wind that had an absolutely breathtaking view of the ocean.

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of this," you said dreamily while Joel flipped through the menu, his sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. He just grunted in response and kept his eyes lowered. In fact, you were beginning to think he was avoiding looking at you most of the morning. You tilted your head to the side and reached an arm across the table, tapping a finger on the wood to get his attention.

"Hm?" he said, still looking down.

"Everything okay? Did you sleep alright?"

"Slept fine."

You pressed your lips into a thin line before giving up and opening the menu with a sigh. When the server came to get your order, all you asked for was coffee and some eggs with fruit. Handing the menu over to her before she left with a smile, you looked back across the table at Joel. Once again, his phone was hidden from view. A habit you were beginning to notice happened with meals, but you almost wished he had it out because it would have been better than the thick silence that hung between you.

"So, you said we had the afternoon. Did you want to go to the beach? Or maybe-"

"I gotta work," he said abruptly, and you felt your heart sink a little.

"Oh, right, of course. Sorry."

You thought you saw guilt flicker across his face for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and looked out towards the crashing waves on the shoreline.

"You could go to the beach. Don't lemme stop you."

"What? No, no, I'll hang back. Maybe just take a dip in the pool, unpack a little bit. I'm still a little jet lagged, anyway," you found yourself saying. It wasn't even true, but the thought of going to the beach alone sounded boring.

"There's a spa in the hotel. Massages, facials, that kinda stuff. Whatever you want just bill it to the room."

"Oh... okay. Maybe, yeah," you stammered. He was utterly confusing you. He wasn't acting like the Joel who was pinching your chin in the clothing store or gazing at you with admiration over dinner last night. It felt like you were back at square one and you had no idea what happened.

Once your food arrived, you ate in relative silence. You spent most of the meal taking in the scenery and people watching the other guests staying at the hotel. It wasn't until your plates were cleared when you noticed a familiar face.

You straightened up in your chair and, without thinking, reached a hand out to rest gently on Joel's forearm. His muscles tensed under your touch but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned forward, eyes still focused somewhere over his shoulder.

"Isn't that Zachary?"

Joel twisted around to look and groaned before turning back to you.

"Must be stayin' here, too."

You watched as Zoe arrived moments later wearing a long, flowing patterned dress with a deep neckline, showing a generous amount of cleavage, and sporting a large sun hat and oversized sunglasses. She slid them down and glanced around, almost immediately catching your eye and tossing you a flirty wave. You smiled and let go of Joel's arm, not noticing how he retracted it under the table after, and waved back.

"They're coming this way."

"Shit."

He pushed his sunglasses on and ran his fingers through his hair just as they approached your table.

"Miller," Zachary said gruffly by way of greeting, clapping Joel on the shoulder. He glanced up and forced a friendly smile for them both.

"Mornin'."

"Heard you were staying here. Got the two bedroom villa, huh? Expecting company?"

Joel frowned and shook his head. "How'd you know that?"

"Owner's a buddy of mine," he said, tapping the side of his nose with a mischievous grin.

"I tend to travel heavy. Joel wanted to get me the extra space for all my things," you told Zachary, your voice dripping with sweetness as you shot Joel what you hoped was a look of adoration.

"How thoughtful of you, Joel," Zachary said, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't very sincere. "Looking forward to drinks later. You're both coming, right? Or do you gotta hang back and work?"

Your eyes darted back and forth between the two men, trying to get a read on the sudden tension and where it stemmed from, but you were lost.

"Nope. We'll both be there."

Joel's voice was curt, fingertips tapping on the table, quite clearly wishing he would leave. Zachary got the hint and looked Zoe's way.

"C'mon, darling. Let's get you something to eat. Kept you up way too late last night," he murmured with a wink. She smiled sweetly at him and when they both turned to head back to their table, she waved to you again.

"See you tonight!" she said brightly over her shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the awkwardness you both just witnessed.

Once they were both out of earshot, you gave Joel a look.

"That last comment was kind of gross."

Joel sighed and stood up. "Yeah, that's Zachary for you."

You scrambled to stand and joined him as you walked through the restaurant, back to the elevators, giving the pair one more friendly wave before disappearing from view.

"Do you guys not get along or something?" you asked once you were safely inside the elevator alone. Joel shrugged and kept his eyes on the numbers ticking away above the door.

"End of the day, they're all competition. It's all a game."

It felt like more than that, but you let it go.

Silently, you followed him back to the villa. Once inside, you busied yourself in the kitchen, weighing your options for the day while he set up a laptop on the dining room table. You didn't want to be in his way, but you didn't feel much like exploring on your own just yet. The exterior wall of the living room was completely made of glass, giving you both a spectacular view of your pool and the ocean beyond. He had logged into work and was getting settled at the table when you finally decided to spend the day at the gorgeous, private pool just outside. As you headed in the direction of your room, you glanced over your shoulder, about to tell him of your intentions, but he had already slipped in a pair of earbuds.

That was fine. He would be able to see you from his seat at the table if he wondered where you went.

When reviewing your options for bathing suits, you were shocked to find six different choices. Who on earth would need more than two? But you shrugged and decided on a simple black bikini, changing quickly and applying some sunscreen before finding a sheer green coverup amongst your things and slipping it over your shoulders. Rifling through your duffel bag, you found a book, your headphones, and your own sunglasses, all of which you brought with you before opening the glass door leading from your bedroom to the patio outside.

There was a white linen pergola next to the pool with two lounge chairs and a cabinet underneath. You picked a chair and put your things down before opening the cabinet to find a towel and some bottles of water. The amenities in the hotel were outstanding and you found yourself still struggling to get used to it. Everywhere you turned, you had everything you could possibly need. Is this really how the other half lived?

You slipped your coverup off, tossing it on top of your phone, and ran the tips of your fingers underneath the band of your bikini bottoms, straightening out the fabric and making sure you had coverage before timidly stepping towards the pool. Even from this distance you could hear laughter and music filtering from the beach, the sounds of summer and joy bringing a smile to your face as you dipped a toe into the pool. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when you realized the pool was heated to the perfect temperature, so you glided right in, submerging yourself underwater and popping back up with a refreshing gasp.

If Joel wanted to work the whole time you were there, then that was his choice. You knew in all likelihood you wouldn't ever get an opportunity like this again, and you were determined to enjoy it.

He was supposed to be working. In fact, he was supposed to be paying attention while the head of finance went over the last quarter's numbers on his laptop screen via video call, but instead he found his eyes drifting to the massive window overlooking the pool. Every time you emerged from the water, your body slick and that skimpy bikini stuck rather obscenely to your skin, he couldn't stop himself from staring. Thank Christ the windows were tinted.

"Joel?"

His eyes dragged back to the laptop and he cleared his throat. "Sorry, WiFi's a little spotty."

"No problem. I said we made record profits last quarter and we should be in a strong financial position to expand without requiring any loans."

"Fantastic," Joel replied, his eyes darting briefly to the window, swallowing hard when you took a break to drink some water. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, your soft lips wrapping around the plastic of the bottle. He felt his cock twitch and he forced his eyes back to the screen. This whole arrangement with you was proving to be a lot more challenging than he expected. He was doing his best to pull away from you and create some distance, but it wasn't working.

"What's the word out there? Think you got a shot at this piece of land?"

Joel shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Too early to say, but if I had to guess, it'll come down to me or Scott."

"Well, good luck, sir."

"Thanks. We'll talk next week."

Joel exited the meeting and the room was filled with silence once again. Emails popped up in the corner of his screen and he managed to focus for a couple hours, one call from HR in particular distracting him from looking at you, but around lunchtime he found his gaze wandering again. You were laid out on your lounge chair reading, legs stretched out, looking sunkissed and relaxed.

With a sigh, he looked down at his watch then stood up. Strolling to the kitchen, he picked up the phone attached to the wall while thumbing through the room service menu. He ordered a couple items for you to share before heading to his bedroom to find his swim trunks.

He never takes a break that doesn't involve clients, so what the hell? Just this once.

By the time he emerged from his bedroom and stepped out onto the patio, you had slipped back into the pool. You were gazing out towards the ocean with your chin resting on the backs of your hands as you leaned up against the edge of the infinity pool. When you heard his door close, you turned to look at him in surprise.

"Hey," you said happily, gaze flickering down his bare chest quickly before locking eyes with him again.

"Mind if I join you?"

You grinned and shook your head. "Not at all."

He tossed his sunglasses and the shirt he had clutched in his hand onto the other lounge chair, realizing for the first time he forgot his phone back inside, but he shrugged it off. He didn't need it anyway. Work could wait an hour.

"Feels nice," he said once he walked all the way into the pool, the water stopping just underneath his collarbone.

"Sure beats the above ground pool I had growing up," you joked.

"Hell, at least you had one."

"True," you sighed, wading over to a built in seat in the deep end so you could rest. "Got me in trouble a few times, though."

Joel quirked an eyebrow and slowly walked over, joining you on the other end of the seat. It gave you both the perfect view of the ocean. "What kinda trouble?"

You giggled and shook your head. "You know. Inviting my friends over to swim when I wasn't supposed to." You paused before quietly adding, "swimming with boys in the middle of the night."

"Boys?" Joel chuckled in surprise.

"Well, not boys. One boy. A boy."

He hummed and glanced at you. "Someone special?"

You shrugged, gaze still pinned on the ocean. "I guess at the time he was. He was my next door neighbor growing up."

"What happened?"

"He went away to college, I eventually moved out to LA, we just lost touch. I think he was my first real love."

For some inexplicable reason, Joel felt his chest grow tight. He rubbed it absentmindedly, refusing to give it too much thought.

"What about you?" you asked, tilting your head towards him. "Who was your first love?"

"Who says I had one?" he countered without even thinking. Now it was your turn to be surprised.

"You've never been in love?"

His eyes dragged down your face before taking a deep breath and looking away, already regretting sharing too much. "Been busy."

You laughed softly to yourself and shook your head.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing. I just don't think love checks with your schedule. When it happens, there's no stopping it, whether you like it or not, whether it's convenient or not."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Pretty profound."

You locked eyes and gave him an endearing smile. "I can be surprising."

"Oh, I'm very aware," he replied, his gaze dropping down briefly to look at the distorted image of your body through the water, then quickly met your eye again. "Nice suit, by the way."

Your cheeks instantly felt hot as you bit your lip and shyly looked away. "Thank you. You bought it."

"I have good taste."

"I think that's been established."

Shit. You were cute. And quick. But he already knew that.

"Wanna tell me what it's like?" he asked lowly, and you felt your breath hitch. "Bein' in love?"

"Oh, I don't want to spoil the surprise for you."

"I made it this far, ain't sure it's in the cards for me," he said, a smile pulling at his lips.

"I wouldn't count you out just yet," you replied softly.

He stared at you, your words hanging heavy in the air, as he struggled to formulate a response. Something about the way you were looking at him made him open his mouth before his brain had a chance to catch up. He was seconds away from telling you too much, from breaking one of his rules, from letting you in, but fortunately the door to the living room slid open, dissolving the tension in an instant.

"Mr. Miller? Room service."

You both turned your heads towards the two attendants holding silver trays with matching polished domed lids on top.

"Put them over there," he directed, pointing to the pergola. They nodded in unison and carefully placed the trays down, lifting the lids off with white gloves, and disappeared back inside.

"Thank you!" you called after them before the door closed. Your eyes drifted back to him but you could see the moment was over. When the living room door opened, Joel's door shut.

"Got us somethin' to eat," he explained, nodding in the direction of the pergola.

"That was thoughtful, thank you."

He spent another ten minutes outside with you, nibbling on assorted meats, cheeses and fruits until he stood with a groan, announcing he had work to get back to, and reminded you to be ready to leave by six that evening.

You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him slip back inside his room to change, convinced more than ever that there was a good man hidden underneath all that armor, you just had to keep chipping away.

"I'll need to thank your assistant one day. Whoever they are, I gotta admit, they did a good job," you told Joel in the back of the private car that was taking you to Glenn's estate. You smoothed down the fabric of your bright yellow sundress, loving the way it hugged your curves and made your skin glow.

"Did you ever have any doubt?" he asked, sliding his sunglasses down his nose so he could look at you over the top. You grinned and shrugged.

"Maybe."

You found yourself growing excited for the evening ahead. Even though you knew it was all an act, that Joel was paying you to pretend to be someone you're not, you found yourself enjoying it more than you thought. But shamefully you especially enjoyed the way Joel acted around you when others were present. You liked his touch and his smile as opposed to the closed off version you had been stuck with the remainder of the afternoon. He was utterly confusing and his mood shifts were giving you whiplash, but at least you knew what to expect at Glenn's house that evening.

"You think you'll be alright on your own for a bit tonight?" he asked as if he somehow read your mind, dashing all your hopes at seeing that softer side of him again.

"Sure," you answered timidly.

"Good. Wanna try to get some one on one time with Glenn, make some progress with 'em."

"Of course."

You looked out the window, heart suddenly deflated. If it was apparent you were disappointed, he wouldn't have even noticed. Per usual, he was staring down intently at his phone, hardly sparing you a glance the rest of the ride.

The car dropped you off in front of a huge, sprawling manor built right on the coast. In the distance, you could see the twinkling lights from other resorts, but Glenn managed to carve out his own little private paradise smack dab in the middle of tourist country.

"This is beautiful," you said breathlessly as you gazed up at the Mediterranean-style architecture surrounded by palm trees and exotic florals. It was dusk and the outside of the house and gardens were lit up with gorgeous ambient lighting, set on the backdrop of a deep purple and pink sky.

"C'mon," was all Joel said, nodding towards the stone walkway, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his khakis. You hurried to catch up with him while your head tilted back to admire the outdoor chandeliers hanging high above the front entrance.

It appeared you arrived just after everybody else. As you walked through the foyer towards the kitchen, you could hear pleasantries and welcomes being exchanged, along with drink orders and details on what hors d'oeuvres were being served.

At the last moment you wrapped a hand around the inside of Joel's elbow, but his hand stubbornly remained in his pocket.

"Ah, welcome!" Glenn bellowed when you stepped into the massive and meticulously kept kitchen. You tried not to gawk and did your best to act like you were around homes like that every single day and not, in fact, only familiar with them through reality TV and magazines.

You waved shyly and glanced quickly around the room while Joel led you to the bar. Already, the significant others had split off from their respective hotel moguls, laughing and sipping on drinks on the other side of the room.

Joel handed you a glass of wine with a warm smile that you couldn't help but return, then subtly cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the others across the room. You got the hint but before parting ways, you planted a kiss on his cheek. His stubble felt rough against your lips yet you felt a jolt in your stomach at the sensation, anyway. Wiping your lipstick from his tanned skin with your thumb, you turned to leave, pleased to feel his eyes on your back as you walked.

Zoe noticed you first. She waved excitedly and you waved back. Even if Joel couldn't stand Zachary, it was undeniable that Zoe's energy was infectious.

"Long time, no see," you joked, and she laughed. Your eyes trailed down her outfit and you shot her an envious look. "Love that dress," you added.

"Thanks! It's Valentino," then she cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, "it's not even out yet."

"Wow!" you said enthusiastically, playing along as if you had some idea how important that was.

Tammy and Lynne were huddled around Ian as he showed them photos from his phone and it was at that point you realized the three of them had been icing Zoe out completely. Your brow furrowed slightly and you looked at her, trying to figure out if you were reading the room correctly, but she didn't give anything away. She was still babbling to you about her dress and the lengths Zachary went to in order to get it for her, seemingly unbothered. Tammy glanced over her shoulder at Zoe when she heard her gushing about her boyfriend and you picked up on the unmistakable disdain written all over her face before she quickly blinked it away with a tight smile after she noticed you looking in her direction.

Tammy turned around then and greeted you by name, interrupting Zoe, and stuck her hand out. "Please let me see that ring, I was dying to get a better look at it last night."

You shot Zoe an apologetic glance but she just smiled back as she sipped her martini, watching Tammy closely over her glass. You stuck out your hand and all four of them gasped and fawned all over your ring.

"How did he propose?" Ian asked.

You repeated the fake story, hoping you remembered everything and looked sincere enough as you spoke, and when you finished up you gazed down at the ring on your finger. It really was a beautiful ring.

"The beach, huh?" Tammy repeated, and you nodded. "Doesn't sound like Joel."

A jolt of panic shot through you like lightning. "What do you mean?"

She just shrugged. "I never took Joel for a beach guy."

"Well, he knows I love the beach. He did it for me," you told her defensively. It was ridiculous to feel so protective over a fake relationship but for some reason, you didn't like her tone. Besides, what did she know about Joel? Was she implying she knew him better somehow?

"Hm. How romantic," Tammy replied sweetly, but you still picked up on the undercurrent of distaste in her words.

"Yes, I agree. He's very romantic," you couldn't help but say. You wanted to wipe that snobby look off her face. She stared at you, that fake smile still stretched across her thin lips, and you stared right back, refusing to be the first to look away.

A sharp clap of laughter came from the men across the room, breaking the tension between the two of you. You shuffled your feet and glanced back at Zoe who was giving you an amused look from behind her glass. Maybe you read her all wrong. Maybe Zoe wasn't clueless after all.

Mary, Glenn's wife, emerged from the butler's pantry with a wide smile. Her eyes drifted around the room to make sure her guests were taken care of as she headed in the direction of your group.

"So sorry! Just a little situation with the caterers," she explained, clapping her hands together gleefully. "How about we all head outside?"

You agreed and followed her dutifully towards the courtyard where a magnificent in-ground pool with built in lights that made the water look almost purple was in the center of an extraordinary backyard. There were plenty of seating and lounging areas, as well as an outdoor bar complete with bartender standing at attention. Gorgeous string lights were draped above your heads and all around the courtyard, connecting at the various palm trees and casting the area with the perfect amount of mood lighting.

"Mary, this place is absolutely stunning," Lynne gushed with a hand pressed lightly against her flushed chest. Mary smiled her thanks.

"We've been working on making this place our dream home for so many years," she replied, "it's everything we've ever wanted."

It didn't take very long for you to become a little bored with hearing the details of how their architect imported tile from Rome or how she had some prestigious artist, a name you'd never heard before, paint a mural in their master suite, but you did your best to remain polite and engaged. However, when it became clear Ian, Lynne and Tammy were legitimately interested in her interior designer's "risky" idea for her dining room, you didn't feel so bad when you let your attention wander for a bit.

Your eyes drifted around the pool in search of someone with food as you tipped your glass back, finishing your wine. Then you locked eyes with Zoe, who appeared to also be losing interest. She gave you a small smile before tilting her head toward the bar and you both politely excused yourselves in search of more drinks.

"Can you imagine living somewhere like this?" she asked when you got out of earshot.

You chuckled and shook your head. "Never. I mean, LA is nice but it's just not the same. It's so... peaceful here."

"It really is," she sighed. You both leaned up against the bar and ordered refills when you heard the door open. You twisted around excitedly, assuming it would be Joel and the others, but it turned out to be three caterers, each holding a tray at chest level. Zoe waved them down and you inwardly sighed with relief when you each took a small smattering of what they had to offer.

"Thank god," you mumbled when you popped something in your mouth that you didn't recognize but at that point, you didn't care. "I was starting to think no one eats."

She giggled and covered her mouth. "They probably don't, but I sure as hell do."

You laughed and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others, aside from Mary, chose to decline the appetizers. "I mean, it's only polite, right?"

"Yeah, duh," Zoe answered before taking a bite of tuna tartare. "Mary'd be disappointed if no one ate. Kind of rude of the others when you think about it."

Your eyes widened and you glanced around, making sure the bartender was busy talking to another caterer and not paying attention before you spoke again. "I think that Tammy's kind of rude, regardless," you said softly, watching carefully for Zoe's reaction. She gasped dramatically as if you had committed blasphemy, then instantly dropped the act, giggling into her palm in agreement.

"Yeah, she's something alright," Zoe replied, looking once over her shoulder at the group. "You did good, though. Standing your ground, marking your territory. Still, you'd think she would be a little more subtle, considering."

You frowned and titled your head to the side. "Considering what?"

She eyed you coyly and winked. "Zach told me. Don't worry though, I won't say a word."

Your blood ran cold. Could she somehow know your relationship was all a lie? No, that wouldn't make sense. Still...

"What do you mean?"

She looked around and picked up her drink and food. "Let's go sit down."

You followed her over to a table with a semblance of privacy without looking like you were excluding yourselves. She brushed her hair off her shoulders and readjusted the straps on her dress before she continued. "He told me about Joel and Tammy. That they had an affair. You'd think after that song and dance last night about them being college sweethearts she would be a little more reserved or, god forbid, have some goddamn shame, but I guess not."

She looked down to scrape something questionable off a cracker while you tried to control your reaction to her news. How could Joel not tell you something this important? Was he crazy?

You swallowed the lump in your throat and steeled yourself, pretending you knew all along. "Does everyone know?"

She scoffed and shook her head. "Hell no. You think they'd be talking to her right now if they did?"

You breathed a sigh of relief but you still couldn't shake the tight feeling in your chest and the inexplicable anger you felt towards Tammy. Clenching your teeth, you took a deep breath in through your nose.

"That's good. Joel would freak if they knew."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded as she chewed and looked around. "Speak of the devil."

Your stunned gaze slid over to where she was looking, spotting the group of men exiting the house to join their partners, each of them carrying identical glasses of dark liquor. Joel's eyes found yours and he immediately could sense something was off. Then he looked at Zoe, his face unreadable before glancing back at you.

"C'mon, we should join them," she said.

Zoe stood up and you followed as if on autopilot.

"Maybe we can go to the spa one of these days? Get some lunch?"

"That sounds wonderful," you told her as you approached the rest of the group. She smiled and broke off to find Zachary, leaving you to face Joel alone.

"Everythin' alright?" he asked. He was smiling in case anyone looked your way but his tone was laced with concern. Worry.

"Yep," you said. You felt his hand brush against your lower back and your body stiffened. He frowned.

"You sure?"

"Mhm," you hummed, pressing your wine glass against your lips, looking anywhere but at him.

"Dad! Sorry we're late," a deep voice called from behind you. The guests turned around to find Trevor and Brooks, Glenn's oldest sons, step out into the courtyard.

"Boys! There you are!" Mary called happily. They took turns planting kisses on her cheek before shaking their father's hand and explaining some work emergency that held them up, but you couldn't stop noticing the way Brooks's fingers wiggled against his side. The longer you watched, the more you noticed. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, the energy rolling off him as his eyes darted around in search of alcohol or food or both.

Then they landed on you.

His gaze was dark and chilling, sending a shiver down your spine. You swallowed tightly and stepped a little closer to Joel, who was talking to Harry about some basketball team, completely oblivious to the way Brooks's eyes dragged appreciatively down your frame.

And just as quickly as it happened, he looked away.

Part of you wanted to tell Joel you weren't feeling well, that you wanted to leave, but you bit your tongue. You were there for a reason. You had to uphold your end of the deal. But everything about that evening made you feel uneasy and sick.

"Glenn invited us all to his yacht this weekend," Joel told you the following morning. He seemed happier than the day before. More upbeat. It should have made you happy, but you couldn't shake the dread that cloaked your shoulders since Zoe told you about Joel's affair, and then the look Brooks gave you right after. You had hardly slept, tossing and turning all night, unable to fully relax.

"Hey, you all good?"

"Huh?" you asked, sitting up straight in your chair and blinking the clouds from your eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm good. You said a yacht?"

"Yeah. Two nights- you sure?" Joel asked, cutting himself off and leaning forward. "You were real quiet last night, too."

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Sorry," you said, waving him off and focusing on the fruit bowl in front of you.

"Don't need to be sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't really buying your excuse but he chose not to push you. "Why don't we stay in today if you're tired? Relax in the room or... whatever you wanna do."

You perked up at his suggestion. "Don't you have to work?"

He nodded and shrugged before leaning back in his chair. "I'm allowed to take a break."

You grinned and he could see the bad mood instantly leave your body. "Are you sure? I heard the CEO is a handful."

He tossed his head back and laughed, startling you with its rarity. "Oh, you got no idea," he replied. You felt your cheeks heat up so you dropped your gaze back to your breakfast, hiding your smile behind your fork. "You said you wanted to go to the beach, right?" he offered, and you quickly nodded.

"But if that's not your thing..." you trailed off, remembering Tammy's words from the night before.

"Who doesn't love the beach?" he replied before finishing his eggs and standing up. "I'm gonna go get ready, meet you out here in thirty," he said over his shoulder. You watched him leave with a little smile.

So maybe Tammy doesn't know Joel as well as she thought she did.

Once back in your room, you surveyed your bathing suit options. You already wore the black one, so you decided on a white bikini with a halter tie behind the neck and matching white bottoms that had a chunky, gold-toned chain which sat on either side of your hips. You slid it on and gawked in the mirror when you realized Joel's assistant accidentally left the tag on.

"Who the hell pays almost $200 for a fucking swimsuit?" you muttered under your breath before carefully removing it and tossing it in the trash. You liked the sheer green coverup from the day before, so you put that back on and began to pack a beach tote you found amongst the endless accessories purchased for you.

Once you made sure you had all your essentials, you tucked your sunglasses on top of your head and walked towards your door. When your left hand stretched out for the handle, you frowned as you looked down at your ring. You couldn't take that to the beach. You would never be able to relax, too afraid of losing it.

Knowing Joel had a safe in his room, you lightly rapped on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I put my- the ring in your safe?" you said, hoping he didn't notice your slip up.

"Sure."

For some reason, you assumed that meant it was clear to enter, so you opened the door and stepped through. Your eyes bugged out of your head when you realized he was still changing, your heart practically leaping out of your chest with embarrassment.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry!" you said, shielding your eyes and backing out of the room quickly. You heard him say something but you couldn't hear him over the curses you were spitting to yourself, so you hurried into the living room and began to pace around nervously, desperately trying to wipe the image from your memory.

Oh, god, he was going to be so pissed. Just when you had him back in a sweet mood, you went and did something so fucking stupid and in all likelihood, ruined the entire day.

When Joel entered the living room, you were chewing on your nail nervously, still pacing around until you noticed him and skid to a stop.

"Joel, I'm so sorry-"

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout," he said with a smirk. "Ready to go?"

He could have knocked you over with a feather as you stood there, blinking rapidly and trying to keep up.

"Y-yeah, I'm ready," you stammered, swiveling around to grab your tote, then jogged to catch up with him. "Wait! The ring, I never-"

"Oh, right," he said, turning around and holding his hand out. You twisted it off and gave it to him. While he took the ring back to his room, it afforded you a few more seconds to come to terms with what just transpired in the last ten minutes.

Before he joined you again, you had given yourself a mental pep talk: everything was fine, you didn't even see anything, and he wasn't mad.

Well, you saw something, but you weren't going to dwell on that.

The awkwardness only lingered in your system for thirty minutes or so. When you arrived at the beach and felt the warm sand underneath your feet, you immediately felt at ease.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," Joel said after setting down his frozen drink next to yours. Of course, he had bought a private cabana for the afternoon so you were each lounging on your chairs in the shade with silent fans aimed at each of you, spritzing you with a cool mist, keeping you perfectly comfortable in the tropical heat.

"Shoot."

"That story you told Glenn - 'bout me askin' you to marry me," he said, sitting up a bit to stretch. "That what you always wanted? You want someone to propose on the beach?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," you told him honestly. "I tried to think of the most romantic thing possible and it just popped into my head. I mean, I wouldn't mind it," you chuckled, brushing your hair from your neck.

"Well, when you were growin' up, how did you imagine it?"

"I-"

You cut yourself off, his question taking you off guard.

"I don't know if I ever thought about it."

He cocked his head to the side curiously. "Really? Hopeless romantic like yourself never fantasized 'bout it?"

You threw your head back and laughed, the sound instantly bringing a smile to his own face.

"I wouldn't call myself a hopeless romantic."

He tsked and picked his drink back up. "Yeah, you are."

You scoffed and shot him an agitated look. "What?"

"Whether you realize it or not, you are," he replied matter-of-factly. "No one comes up with those stories off the cuff without havin' a little soft spot for romance."

Your scowl melted into a grin. How was he so good at reading you? And why couldn't you do the same to him?

"How about you? When you-"

"Wanna go for a dip?" he asked, cutting you off as he stood to tug his shirt over his head. Your mouth went dry when you saw his bare chest and back, and then your gaze instinctively dropped. You instantly recalled walking in on him that morning and you had to tear your eyes away before he could see how flustered you were, but it was too late. Joel noticed everything.

"Yeah, sure," you mumbled, standing to shed your cover up. When you turned back to him you had to suppress your smirk at the way his eyes greedily drank you in.

It felt like the playing field leveled once again.

The moment you stepped out from under the protection of the cabana, the heat engulfed you both. Just the short walk to the shore made the back of your neck sweat and you couldn't wait to slip into the crystal blue water to cool down.

"This place doesn't seem real," you confessed to Joel as you waded slowly into the ocean with a ridiculous smile stretched across your face.

"Just imagine the kind of money one of these resorts rakes in," he replied before leaping forward into the water so the only skin that was exposed were his shoulders on up.

Joel didn't like to share much about his private life, that much you knew for certain, but one thing he always seemed open to talking about was work.

"If you win the lot, would this be your most successful hotel?"

He nodded and tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed as he basked in the sun's hot rays. "It would put The Parador on the map, open up countless possibilities."

"Oh, so no pressure or anything," you joked. Your foot grazed against something hard in the sand and you looked down, squinting through the water, then gasped.

"What?"

"Look!" you said excitedly, pointing down. His eyes followed your finger and he frowned.

"I don't see nothin'."

"The seashells! They're pink!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Pink seashells, huh?"

"Yes!" you squeaked as you tried and failed to pluck one out of the sand with your toes. Joel sighed dramatically and gently pushed you back.

"What are you-"

He took a deep breath and plunged under the water, making you giggle as you watched him dig a few seashells out before popping back up. He shook his head like a wet dog, flinging water droplets at you and making you shriek before he triumphantly brought his hand up from underneath the water and gave you your prize.

"Oh, my hero," you gushed before carefully picking up each one to examine them closer. "Thank you, Joel."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Your smile grew wider but you hoped he just attributed it to the seashells you were so fixated on. Realizing you had nowhere to put them without going back to the beach, you turned away so you could shove them into the cups of your bikini. You heard a deep chuckle behind you and you looked at him over your shoulder.

"I don't wanna get out!"

He laughed a little louder, the sound beginning to grow on you. He looked so young and relaxed, bobbing up and down in the ocean with his hair slicked back while the sun warmed his already tanned skin.

Turned out Tammy was wrong: Joel was a beach guy.

"I just think it's funny you're bein' so modest after you got an eyeful of me earlier," he told you, his eyes sparkling. You felt your chest and neck grow hot and you shook your head with shame.

"I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't see anything."

He cocked an eyebrow at you. "Don't lie."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you struggled with a response.

"Okay, I might have seen just a little bit," you confessed softly, looking anywhere but at him as you floated around, allowing the waves to push and pull your body ever so slightly.

"Ouch," he winced, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Little, huh?"

"Oh, god," you groaned, burying your face in your wet hands. "That's not what I meant."

He laughed heartily, enjoying your embarrassment far too much. "I'm just messin' with you."

You splashed him angrily but couldn't stop yourself from grinning. Why couldn't he be like this all the time? This version of him was so sweet, so intoxicating that you found yourself craving it and trying to find ways to bring it out of him more. So you decided to be brave and match his energy, just a little bit. Just to see what he would do.

"You're right. Little wasn't the right word."

He raised his eyebrows in shock and the smile slipped from his face. You thought you made a mistake and already you were scrambling to apologize, but then his gaze darkened and you felt his hand brush against your hip under the water.

"That so?" he said huskily, his tone sending a shiver down your spine and your heart to beat wildly in your chest. You bit your lip and nodded, not putting much confidence in your voice as he inched even closer. You could smell his sunscreen mixing with the salt from the water and the heat of the sun, the entire combination making you feel a little lightheaded. His eyes flickered over your shoulder briefly before you felt his other hand on your waist. "Shit, Zachary 'n Zoe are watchin' us."

Using it as an excuse, you draped your arms around his neck and hummed, pulling yourself so close that your noses were practically touching.

"Suppose we should act like we're madly in love, then."

His fingers pressed harder into your skin as he stared at your mouth, his breathing becoming shallow when your lips parted.

"S'pose we should."

When he pressed his mouth against yours, it was so delicate and soft it made you wonder if he was nervous. The thought excited you and you let your body melt against his. You already felt weightless in the water but the way his lips massaged yours made you feel like you might just float away.

His tongue swiped against your lower lip and you immediately granted him access, opening your mouth a little wider to allow him to deepen the kiss. You both knew you were playing with fire but neither of you stopped to consider it. He tasted too good: like sea salt and the coconut from his drink and it was making you ache for more. Your fingers dragged through the wet curls on the back of his head as his tongue danced with yours, both of you completely forgetting where you were and getting lost in the moment.

A small wave crashed into you, splashing you both with warm sea water and causing you to pull away with a gasp. You dragged in a few deep breaths but his lips drifted to your chin, nibbling and biting along the length of your jaw. You forced your eyes to open, surprised to find you had floated around so you could now see the beach from over his shoulder.

"I don't see Zachary or Zoe."

He froze, his lips still pressed wetly against the sensitive spot below your ear and you felt him smirk. He leaned back and gave you a guilty look. "Huh."

"Huh?" you repeated, and he twisted around to scan the shore.

"Coulda sworn I saw 'em..." he said, scratching his chin and trying to hide his smile. You gasped and shoved his shoulder, pushing him away with a laugh.

"Liar," you teased.

He shrugged and kicked his legs up so he could float on his back. "Guess we'll never know."

"You're unbelievable," you told him, attempting to sound annoyed but you knew your voice held no conviction. He just grinned and closed his eyes with a sigh. You followed his lead and leaned back so you could float, your body rising and falling with each soft wave while you ignored the arousal that flared between your legs. Looking out towards the sea, you spotted various boats speckling the skyline.

"So a yacht, you said?"

"Mhmm. Two days. If you get seasick, I got pills that'll help."

"What are we going to do for two days?" you asked.

"Eat. Drink. Jet-ski. Maybe check out some small islands or somethin'," he replied, eyes still peacefully shut.

"So we're sleeping on this yacht?"

He cracked one eye opened and looked at you. "Yep," he answered. You swallowed and looked back towards the beach.

"That means we'll have to share a bed," you said, feeling ridiculous for being so nervous at the prospect when his tongue was practically down your throat moments ago.

"That a problem?"

You shook your head. "Of course not."

He smiled and closed his eyes again. "Good."

Shit. You were in trouble.

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[prettyboykatsuki]

gallagher is incredibly amused when you come to his bar to pine over sunday like a helpless little puppy. you’re madly in love with the guy but you don’t have any confidence he feels the same and you drown your sorrows in soulglad and mixed cocktails

the funny part is the whole thing makes sunday extremely and heinously jealous and every time they cross paths again - sunday threatens him and asks what you two could possibly talk about. he always looks ready to pop a vein.

gallagher of course, does not care. he just laughs and makes a gesture sealing his lips. “client confidentiality. this old dog is good at keeping secrets,” and then adds as sundays scowl deepens “and well, it wont be the same if i broke the news to you myself,”

[dearggntlereader]

OK-OK-OK-OK HEAR ME OUT. r is Matteo’s best friend/recent gf, they keep their relationship secret. And then like they go to a party and Matteo gets TIPSYYYYY and randomly sits down next to her and before she can push him away like snuggles all up to her AND BOOM. HARD LAUNCH.

Picture does not represent the reader's looks!!!

just let me love at you . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You are giggling without much reason, simply happy to be at this party with your boyfriend. Well, you aren't with your boyfriend. You two decided to keep your relationship secret until you're sure it all works out, no need for unnecessary drama. And a small part of you wasn’t ready to be hated because you're dating the Mattheo Riddle.

Ravenclaws always throw the best parties and even with only one light cocktail you can feel warmth buzzing through you.

The velvety couch dips beside you and you feel a familiar hand softly but urgently grab your waist. You know that hand, constantly playing with it in the secrecy of your dorm. Softly brushing the scarred knuckles and circling the rough skin, leaving light kisses once in a while.

You only catch a glimpse of Mattheo’s bright eyes before he has his head buried in your shoulder. You sink into his comfortable embrace when all of a sudden your eyes shoot open a second before you realize why they do so. 

Mattheo’s hands are circling your waist and ten people are already staring at you, two girls at your right are loudly judging you. They aren’t even trying to hide their jealousy and judgment as they meet your eye with a disgusted sneer.

You don’t look at your friends, scared of their reaction, focusing instead on the boy clinging to you “Mattheo, what are you doing?” you whisper-shout. He doesn’t lift his head to answer, mumbling a small “missed you”, into your shoulder and accentuating the statement with a soft kiss. 

You can feel a soft giggle threatening to spill out, and if you had just a sip more of that mojito you surely would have let it out. You gently and with barely any effort attempt to peel him away from you. “There are people around,” you lecture, with a soft smile you can’t seem to shake.

“don’t care, just wanna love at you,” he grumbles, it’s really almost a whine but he’d never admit that. His curls tickle your ear as he tries to get even closer to you.

You love this. Maybe that whole staying secret thing was stupid because the thought that you would have to lose this experience to keep your relationship secret, makes something in your stomach curl up in discomfort.

He’s so clingy and you can’t help but feel some sense of pride, he likes you this much. Wants to touch you this much.

Meanwhile all Mattheo is able to focus on is you. Your smell, sea salt and eucalyptus with a mix of sweat from dancing, is intoxicating him even more than he already is. Your skin is so soft he could fall asleep and the more his hands circle your waist, the more he wants to never stop grabbing at it. That’s not even mentioning your gorgeous laugh, he knows you try to suppress it, wanting to tell him off, but he can hear it wanting to come out.

God, he loves you. What? No. He’s just drunk, right?

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack!!!

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Dangerous Woman

Mob Boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.9K

Summary: You're just a bartender until Natasha Romanoff walks into your life.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, alludes to sex, mentions of knives, mob life, mentions of vom*t

Authors notes: After making this moodboard I had this idea

You loved the rhythm of the restaurant’s evening rush. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter—it was a symphony that you had grown to cherish. As the bartender at one of the city’s most upscale establishments, you prided yourself on knowing the regulars, remembering their favorite drinks, and always being ready with a warm smile and a listening ear.

Tonight, the restaurant was especially busy. The soft glow of chandeliers cast a golden light over the elegantly dressed patrons, and the rich scent of gourmet dishes filled the air. You moved with practiced ease behind the bar, mixing cocktails, pouring wine, and engaging in light banter with the guests.

Your colleagues often joked about your ability to handle even the most demanding customers with grace. It was a skill that had earned you a reputation among the clientele and the respect of your fellow staff. But beneath your composed exterior, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different. There was an electricity in the air, an anticipation that you couldn’t quite place.

As you polished a glass, your eyes drifted to the entrance just in time to see a striking woman step inside. She was tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that exuded sophistication and power. Her auburn hair was styled to perfection, and her sharp green eyes scanned the room with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Natasha Romanoff, you realized with a start. The name was whispered in certain circles with a mix of reverence and fear. She was the heiress to the infamous Red Guardian’s empire, known for her ruthless efficiency and unyielding control over her domain. You had never expected to see her in person, let alone at your bar.

Natasha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before she made her way to a secluded table where a nervous-looking man awaited her. As she sat down, you couldn’t help but feel her eyes on you every so often, a piercing gaze that made your pulse quicken.

You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept drifting back to her. What could bring someone like Natasha Romanoff here? And why did it feel like she was watching you so intently?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft chime from the bar. A customer was waiting. You turned your attention back to your duties, pushing aside the questions that swirled in your mind.

Time seemed to blur as the evening wore on. The restaurant’s ambiance, the steady stream of orders, and the occasional glance toward Natasha’s table kept you occupied. But you couldn’t ignore the growing sense of anticipation, the feeling that something significant was about to happen.

It wasn’t long before Natasha rose from her table, her conversation with the client seemingly concluded. She walked with an air of purpose toward the bar, her eyes locking onto yours. The room seemed to hush as she approached, the weight of her presence palpable.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice smooth and commanding. “I’d like your highest-priced bottle of red wine.”

You nodded, trying to steady your nerves as you reached for the exclusive bottle kept in the back for such occasions. “Of course, ma’am,” you replied, setting the bottle and a glass in front of her. “This is our finest vintage.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a faint smile as she watched you pour. “You have a good eye for quality,” she remarked, taking the glass and swirling the wine before taking a sip. “What’s your name?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. “It’s Y/N”

“Y/N,” she repeated, as if testing how it felt on her tongue. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Natasha.”

The name sent a shiver down your spine. It confirmed what you had suspected, but there was a gentleness in her tone that caught you off guard. “Nice to meet you too, Natasha.”

She leaned closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me, Y/N, how does someone like you end up working in a place like this?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “I enjoy meeting new people and making their nights a little brighter. Plus, I’ve always had a passion for mixing drinks.”

Natasha’s smile widened slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “A passion for mixing drinks and making people happy. That’s a rare combination.”

She took another sip of her wine, her gaze thoughtful. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other, Y/N.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say, but feeling a strange sense of anticipation. As Natasha returned to her table, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your life had just taken a turn, one that would lead you deeper into her world.

=========

And see her again you did. It didn't take long, in fact. As you walked back to your apartment after that fateful encounter, the night air was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the restaurant. The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional pedestrian or car passing by. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, your thoughts lingering on the enigmatic woman who had unexpectedly captured your attention.

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard footsteps behind you, quickening in pace. Two men rounded the corner, their faces shadowed in the dim streetlights. They called out to you, their voices laced with a confidence you recognized all too well. Working as a bartender, you had grown accustomed to unwanted advances, even in the upscale environment of your workplace. The wealthy often believed their status and money could win you over, but they were always wrong.

One of the men stepped closer, his words slurred and suggestive. You stiffened, preparing yourself to handle the situation as you always did. But before you could speak, a familiar voice cut through the night.

"That's enough," Natasha's voice was cold and commanding, a dangerous edge to it that made the men freeze. She stepped out of the shadows, her presence immediately imposing.

The man who had been speaking turned to her, annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Listen, bitch, stay—" His words died in his throat as recognition dawned on his face. "The Red Guardian's daughter... The Black Widow..."

The name hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The color drained from the men's faces as they realized just who they were dealing with. Without another word, they turned and bolted, disappearing into the night as quickly as they had appeared.

Natasha watched them go, her expression unreadable. Then, she turned to you, her gaze softening. She closed the distance between you with a few quick strides, her cool hands gently cupping your cheeks. The touch was unexpected, but strangely comforting. You could still smell the faint scent of the wine she had sipped earlier, mingling with the subtle notes of mint that came off her. The combination made your head spin, your heart racing in your chest.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice softer now, laced with concern. Her thumbs gently brushed against your skin, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you."

Natasha’s eyes softened further, a small smile playing on her lips. "You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that," she murmured, her tone protective. "Let me walk you home."

It wasn’t a request; it was a gentle command, and you found yourself unable to refuse. There was something undeniably captivating about her, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that drew you in.

=======

Instead of Natasha walking you home, you found yourself in her sleek black car, the city lights fading behind you as she drove you out of the bustling downtown area. The ride was quiet, the air filled with an unspoken tension, your mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You tried to piece together the events that had led you here, but the answers eluded you. All you knew was that you were headed to Natasha Romanoff's home, and that fact alone left you both exhilarated and anxious.

The drive seemed to stretch on, each mile taking you further from the familiar streets you knew. Finally, the car slowed and turned onto a private driveway. You gazed out the window, your eyes widening as a grand mansion came into view, nestled amidst lush, manicured gardens. The imposing structure was a blend of modern and classic architecture, exuding an air of sophistication and power that mirrored Natasha herself.

As the car came to a stop, your breath hitched. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion made your jaw drop. It was a far cry from the modest apartment you called home. Natasha stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you with a small, reassuring smile. You stepped out, feeling the cool night air against your skin, and followed her up the grand steps to the entrance.

The door opened before you could reach for it, revealing a pair of neatly dressed maids who greeted Natasha with polite nods. They took her coat and scarf, their movements quick and efficient. Natasha slipped off her jacket, revealing the burgundy shirt she wore underneath. She loosened her tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt, revealing a hint of her cleavage. The sight made your mouth and throat go dry, a sudden wave of heat rushing through you. The contrast between her commanding presence and the subtle glimpse of vulnerability left you speechless.

Natasha glanced over at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Welcome to my home," she said, her voice smooth and inviting. She gestured for you to follow her inside, her hand resting lightly on your lower back as she guided you through the grand foyer. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior—high ceilings, marble floors, and an array of tasteful art pieces adorning the walls. It was a place that spoke of wealth and status, yet felt oddly intimate.

As you walked further into the mansion, you noticed the staff bustling about, all moving with a quiet efficiency. It was clear that everything and everyone here existed to serve Natasha's needs and desires. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervousness, wondering how you had ended up in such a situation. It felt surreal, like you were living a dream—or perhaps a fantasy you hadn't even known you had.

Natasha led you into a cozy sitting room, its walls lined with bookshelves and soft, plush furniture. She motioned for you to sit on a comfortable sofa, then poured herself a glass of red wine from a decanter on a nearby table. She poured a second glass and handed it to you, her eyes never leaving yours. The gesture was both casual and intimate, a reminder of the connection that had sparked between you earlier in the evening.

As you took the glass, your fingers brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Natasha settled into an armchair across from you, her posture relaxed yet commanding. She took a sip of her wine, her gaze thoughtful.

"So," she began, her voice low and smooth. "How does it feel to be here, in my home?" There was a teasing glint in her eyes, but also a genuine curiosity.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "It's... breathtaking," you managed to say, your eyes flickering around the room before settling back on her. "I never expected to end up in a place like this. With you."

Natasha's lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I didn't expect it either," she admitted, her voice softening. "But here we are."

There was a pause, a charged silence that hung in the air between you. You felt the weight of the moment, the unspoken possibilities that seemed to shimmer in the space between you. Natasha's presence was intoxicating, her allure undeniable. As she studied you, you couldn’t help but wonder what she saw in you, and what she had planned for the night.

Before either of you could continue the conversation, the two of you were interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open. A blonde woman with a thick Russian accent burst into the den, her presence as commanding as Natasha's. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and she carried herself with a confidence that suggested she was no stranger to dangerous situations.

"Sestra! I took care of To—" she began, her voice trailing off as she noticed you sitting there. A look of surprise crossed her face, quickly followed by suspicion. Her eyes narrowed, scanning you with a critical gaze before she turned her attention back to Natasha. Her expression softened slightly, but a hint of curiosity remained.

"Сестра, кто это?" the blonde asked, her voice low and questioning.

Natasha glanced at you briefly, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile before she turned to address the woman. She responded in Russian, her tone calm and composed, "Это Y/N, одна из новых знакомых. Не волнуйся, всё под контр��лем." (This is Y/N, one of my new acquaintances. Don't worry, everything is under control.)

The blonde raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the situation. Her eyes flicked back to you, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Знакомых, да?" (Acquaintances, huh?) she replied, her tone teasing yet inquisitive. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "Интересно. Очень интересно." (Interesting. Very interesting.)

Natasha chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Успокойся, Елена. Мы просто общаемся." (Calm down, Yelena. We're just communicating.) She turned to you, switching to English with ease. "This is my sister, Yelena. She tends to be a bit... protective."

Yelena smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "A bit? That's an understatement." She pushed off the doorframe and approached, extending a hand toward you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I've heard... well, nothing about you," she joked, her tone lightening the atmosphere.

You shook her hand, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden shift in the room's dynamics. "Nice to meet you too, Yelena," you managed, trying to keep up with the rapid changes in conversation.

Yelena nodded, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned back to Natasha. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know everything's taken care of." She paused, a more serious expression crossing her face. "But we should talk later."

Natasha nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Of course. We'll catch up in a bit."

With that, Yelena gave you one last curious glance before making her way out of the room, leaving you alone with Natasha once more. The interruption had brought a new energy into the space, a reminder of the world Natasha inhabited—a world that was clearly more complicated and dangerous than you had initially realized.

As the door closed behind Yelena, Natasha turned her attention back to you, her expression softening. "Sorry about that," she said with a small sigh. "My sister can be a bit... overbearing at times. But she's good at what she does." She took another sip of her wine, her eyes locking onto yours once more. "Now, where were we?"

"So that's your sister, which means she's the White Widow?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness. The realization hit you that you were in the presence of not just one but two of the most formidable figures in the city's underworld. Natasha nodded, her expression unreadable as she sipped her wine.

"Yes, she is," Natasha confirmed, her tone matter-of-fact. She set her glass down, leaning back in her chair with an air of casual authority. "But enough about that part of my life," she continued, her voice deepening and becoming gravelly. The sound sent a shiver through you, resonating with a magnetic pull that made your pulse quicken.

Natasha's eyes bore into yours, her gaze intent and focused. "I want to know more about you." Her words were not just a request but an invitation, laced with a curiosity that seemed to cut through the haze of the evening.

You felt the warmth of the wine spreading through your system, your head starting to swim. The rich, velvety taste lingered on your tongue, mingling with the intoxicating presence of the woman before you. The room felt warmer, the air heavier with unspoken tension.

You swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts. "There's not much to tell," you began, feeling a bit self-conscious under her intense scrutiny. "I'm just a bartender, working to make ends meet. I've been at the restaurant for a few years now, and I guess I've gotten good at reading people. But my life... it's pretty ordinary compared to yours."

Natasha's lips curled into a small smile, a soft chuckle escaping her. "Ordinary? I find that hard to believe," she murmured, her voice low and smooth. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. "You must have seen and heard a lot from behind that bar. People's true selves often come out after a few drinks. It's a unique perspective."

Her words made you feel exposed, as if she could see right through you. The weight of her attention was both thrilling and terrifying. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the moment. "I suppose you're right," you admitted. "It's interesting, observing people and their stories. But I never expected to find myself in a situation like this."

Natasha's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?" She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was light, almost tender, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. "You're intriguing, [Your Name]. There's more to you than meets the eye."

Her words hung in the air, filled with a promise that made your heart race. You could feel the pull between you, the magnetic connection that seemed to draw you closer despite the differences in your worlds. The room felt smaller, the space between you charged with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

You blamed it on the alcohol when you leaned forward, your inhibitions slipping away with every sip of wine. The world around you blurred, leaving only Natasha's piercing green eyes and the intoxicating allure of her presence. It felt almost surreal, like a dream you never wanted to end.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips to hers. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. Natasha responded immediately, her lips warm and inviting against yours. The initial contact sent a thrill through your body, igniting a spark that quickly flared into a flame.

You also blamed the alcohol for the boldness with which she pulled you into her lap, her strong hands guiding you effortlessly. You settled onto her, straddling her thighs, your fingers tangling in her hair as the kiss deepened. Natasha's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as her lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

The taste of the wine lingered on her lips, mingling with the heady sensation of being so close to her. Her hands roamed over your back, firm yet gentle, sending shivers down your spine. You felt her tongue brush against your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them willingly, allowing her to explore further. The kiss became more passionate, more desperate, as if both of you were trying to drown in each other.

Natasha's touch was intoxicating, and the way she held you made you feel wanted, desired. Your hands trailed down to the open collar of her shirt, your fingers brushing against the smooth skin of her chest. The contact drew a soft moan from her, a sound that only spurred you on.

You couldn't tell if it was the wine or the intensity of the moment, but everything felt heightened. The heat of her body against yours, the taste of her lips, the scent of her, mint—it all blended together, creating a heady mix that made your head spin. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you lost in the kiss.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the grandeur of her mansion, not the complexity of her life, and certainly not the consequences of your actions. It was just you and Natasha, caught in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

Lost in the intoxicating heat of the moment, you barely noticed when Natasha effortlessly lifted you from her lap. Her strength surprised you, but there was something undeniably alluring about being in her arms, your bodies pressed close as she carried you with ease. Your lips left hers only to trail a series of kisses down her neck, tasting the warmth of her skin. You felt the rapid beat of her pulse under your lips, a testament to the shared urgency between you.

As she ascended the grand staircase, your mouth continued its exploration, planting soft kisses along the curve of her neck. You nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of marks in your wake. Natasha's breath hitched, a low growl escaping her throat, the sound sending a thrill through you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the heady mix of desire that consumed you both.

Natasha carried you through the elegantly decorated hallways, the grandeur of her home barely registering in your haze. All you could focus on was the feel of her body against yours, the scent of mint making you dizzy, and the electric connection that pulsed between you.

The journey felt both like an eternity and a blink of an eye. You were vaguely aware of the doors she passed through, the soft click of them closing behind her. Finally, she carried you into a spacious bedroom, the décor understated yet luxurious, a testament to her refined taste. The bed, large and inviting, became the focal point of the room.

Natasha gently laid you down on the plush bed, her eyes dark with desire as she leaned over you. Her fingers brushed over the marks you'd left on her neck, a smirk playing on her lips. "Leaving your mark, are we?" she teased, her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of exhilaration and anticipation. "Couldn't help myself," you replied, your voice breathless. Your fingers reached out, tracing the line of her jaw, feeling the smoothness of her skin. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, every touch and glance charged with an intensity that made your heart race.

Natasha's eyes softened, a warmth in them that belied her usual cool demeanor. She leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, her hands sliding up your sides with a possessive urgency. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourselves in each other, a tangle of limbs and whispered breaths. The night stretched out before you, filled with the promise of more to come, a whirlwind of passion and discovery that neither of you were eager to escape.

===========

When you awoke the next morning, a dull throb echoed in your head, and the unfamiliar comfort of the sheets around you registered as too luxurious to be your own. You blinked groggily, only to wince as the bright light streaming through the windows made your vision pulse with pain. Quickly, you covered your eyes with your hand, slowly adjusting to the brightness. As you squinted them back open, the unfamiliar surroundings reminded you that you weren't home.

The events of the previous night came rushing back, a blend of passionate moments and stolen touches with Natasha. You looked around the room, taking in the elegant décor and the subtle scent of mint lingering in the air. It was a beautiful, well-appointed space, clearly reflecting her refined taste. As your eyes landed on the bedside table, you noticed a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine. Next to them lay a folded note. Curiosity piqued, you reached for the note and unfolded it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you read the familiar handwriting.

"I'm down the hall in my office. I wanted to let you sleep. Feel free to put on the clothes on the chair in the corner. I had someone go out and buy them for you this morning. I hope I got your sizes right. -Tasha"

The gesture was thoughtful, and it made your heart flutter. Natasha had clearly thought about your comfort, even after the whirlwind of the previous night. You set the note down and took the medicine with a grateful sip of water, hoping it would help ease the headache pounding in your skull. The cool liquid was refreshing, and you felt a little more awake as you placed the empty glass back on the table.

With a deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The room spun slightly, but you steadied yourself, making your way to the chair in the corner. Draped over it was a set of neatly folded clothes, clearly new. You ran your fingers over the fabric, appreciating the soft, high-quality material. Natasha had taken the time to ensure you would be comfortable and well-dressed, a gesture that felt both intimate and considerate.

You quickly changed into the clothes, finding that they fit perfectly, as if tailored just for you. As you dressed, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness about seeing Natasha again. The events of the night before felt like a dream, and you were eager to see what the day would bring. You smoothed down the clothes, took a deep breath, and prepared to step out of the room, ready to face whatever awaited you beyond the door.

You checked yourself out in the mirror with a smile, appreciating how well the outfit suited you. The red plaid pleated skirt paired with the tight black long-sleeved V-neck was a bit more daring than your usual style, but it felt exciting. The addition of the thick thigh-high stockings added a playful touch, making you feel both confident and alluring. Satisfied with your appearance, you left the room and headed out into the hallway.

Upon spotting one of the maids, you politely asked for directions to Natasha's office. She nodded and led you there quietly, stopping in front of a dark wooden door from which Natasha's voice could be heard. The maid gave you a small nod, and you took a deep breath before opening the door.

As you entered, Natasha's eyes immediately found you, and a warm smile spread across her face. She gestured for you to come closer, her gaze filled with an appreciative gleam. You quietly made your way over, and once you were within reach, Natasha's arm snaked around your waist, pulling you onto her lap. The unexpected closeness made your heart race, and you bit your lip to suppress any noises as she subtly squeezed your thighs like a stress ball. The smirk on her face told you she was enjoying every moment of your reaction.

Natasha continued her conversation on the phone, her tone authoritative and calm. You sat there, trying to maintain your composure as her hands roamed over you, seemingly innocent but filled with intent. When she finally hung up the phone, she turned her full attention to you, her eyes raking over your body with an appreciative gaze.

"You look amazing, darling," Natasha murmured, her hands wandering over your curves, taking in every detail of your outfit. Her touch was possessive, yet gentle, as if she were savoring the moment.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm assuming you picked this out for a reason? Is this how you like to dress your girls?" you asked, teasing her a bit.

Natasha's eyes sparkled with amusement, and she leaned back slightly, her hands still resting on your hips. "And boys," she added with a knowing grin. "What can I say? A cute little thing in a plaid skirt and tight shirt, all for me to see? It's a look I can't resist."

Her eyes wandered over you again, this time lingering on your chest. The intensity of her gaze made you feel a delightful mix of bashfulness and excitement. Natasha's admiration was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel flattered by her attention. It was clear she enjoyed the power dynamics at play, and you were more than willing to play along.

=====

As much as you were enjoying the attention from the city's most powerful and intimidating figure, a nagging doubt crept into your mind. It felt surreal, almost too good to be true. You couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be some sort of catch, something you were missing.

"Why me?" The question slipped out quietly, almost a whisper. The moment the words left your lips, you regretted it, feeling vulnerable and exposed. You kept your eyes down, afraid of what her reaction might be.

Natasha's hand gently lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet hers. Her expression wasn't harsh or intimidating, as you had feared. Instead, her eyes held a softness, a tenderness that caught you off guard. It was like looking into a tranquil meadow in Spring, calm and reassuring.

"Y/N, look at me," she repeated softly, her voice steady and sincere. "I took one look at you and knew I had to have you. If you had said no to anything, I would have left you alone. I would never make you do anything, понимать?" She asked, the last word rolling off her tongue in Russian, a language that sounded both beautiful and mysterious to your ears.

You weren't entirely sure what the word meant, but you repeated it back as best as you could, the unfamiliar syllables feeling awkward in your mouth. "Понимать," you echoed, sounding more like a child trying to mimic a word. Natasha's smile widened, clearly amused by your effort.

"It means 'understand,'" she explained, her voice warm and patient. You nodded, feeling a little more at ease.

"Capeesh," you replied with a playful smile, borrowing the phrase you knew from movies. Natasha's laugh rang out, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room. It was infectious, and soon you found yourself laughing along with her, the tension from moments before melting away.

Natasha's laughter was a reminder that, despite her fearsome reputation, she was still human. In that moment, you felt a connection with her that went beyond the intimidating aura she carried. There was a genuine care in her words, a desire to reassure you and make you feel safe. It was a side of her that few probably ever got to see, and you felt privileged to witness it.

====

The following night, the bar was alive with energy, buzzing with the usual Friday night crowd. It was one of your busiest nights, and you thrived in the chaos, moving effortlessly behind the bar in a cropped top and booty shorts. The outfit, while bold, was a practical choice for the heat and energy of the night, and it certainly helped rake in tips from regulars and wealthy patrons alike. You danced and sang along with the music, mixing and pouring drinks with a flair that captivated everyone around you.

As the night went on, you caught sight of Natasha entering the bar. Her presence was impossible to miss; she exuded an aura of authority and elegance even in a crowded, lively place like this. Her eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, you felt a thrill of excitement. However, you quickly noticed a flicker of something darker in her gaze—jealousy, perhaps, or possessiveness.

Before you could fully process it, Natasha made her way through the crowd, her expression set and unreadable. She reached the bar and, without a second thought, grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the counter. The abruptness of her actions caught you off guard, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into the background.

You stood your ground, pulling your arm free from her grip. Natasha's eyes bore into yours, a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place. But you didn't back down; this was your space, your job, and you weren't about to let anyone, not even her, dictate your actions here.

"This is my job," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the tension. "This pays my bills. I know what I'm doing, Tasha. Don't think I'm gonna change just because you've walked into my life."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Natasha's expression softened slightly, her initial anger giving way to a more thoughtful look. She seemed to consider your words, her eyes searching yours for understanding.

After a beat, Natasha sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she nodded. "I understand," she finally said, her voice calmer. "I just... I don't want anyone else looking at you the way I do."

You couldn't help but smile at her admission, a warmth spreading through you. "They can look all they want," you replied with a playful wink. "But that doesn't mean they get to touch."

Natasha's lips curved into a small smile, a hint of relief in her eyes. "Fair enough," she conceded, her tone lightening. She leaned in, her voice low and intimate. "But don't be surprised if I get a little protective. I can't help it."

You chuckled, the tension between you easing. "As long as you remember that I can handle myself," you teased, leaning closer. "Besides, it's fun making them think they have a chance."

Natasha smirked, her hand brushing against your arm in a subtle, reassuring gesture. "You're something else, you know that?" she murmured, her eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and affection.

With that, she released you, letting you return to your work. You felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had stood your ground and asserted your independence. As you went back to serving drinks and entertaining the crowd, you caught Natasha watching you from the corner of your eye.

As the night began to wind down, the usual chaos of closing time set in. Patrons stumbled out, leaving behind a mix of laughter and lingering energy. You were busy behind the bar when a particularly drunk guy decided to try his luck, getting handsy in a way that made your skin crawl. Before Natasha could even react, your reflexes kicked in. With a swift motion, you pulled out a small knife from under the bar and slammed it down between the man's fingers. The blade glinted in the dim light, the threat unmistakable.

"Try that again, and you won't just be losing a finger," you warned, your voice flat and devoid of emotion. The man froze, his eyes widening in fear as he registered the seriousness of your tone. The reality of the situation must have hit him hard, as his face paled, and he turned his head to vomit beside him.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated by the mess. "Buck! Clean up, please!" you called out. Bucky, your coworker and the bar's bouncer, quickly stepped in, escorting the stumbling man out while one of the busboys hurried over to clean up the mess. You wiped down the counter, your expression cool and unbothered, as if this was just another night on the job.

Natasha, who had been observing the scene from a distance, made her way over, leaning against the bar with a smirk playing on her lips. You sauntered over, mirroring her posture as you leaned in close. Her eyes were darker than usual, stormy like a spring day brewing with tension and excitement.

"That was hot. I didn't think you were capable of something like that," Natasha's voice was husky, laced with admiration and a hint of surprise.

You chuckled softly, the sound low and confident. "I used to work in a dive bar before this. I learned how to defend myself. I don't even blink at it anymore," you replied, a lithe confidence in your voice. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against hers in a teasing kiss. "I've just gotta grab my tips and count the drawer, and then I am all yours, Tasha," you murmured, a smirk playing on your lips as you pulled away.

The effect you had on Natasha was palpable, and the realization sent a thrill through you. She, the mob boss and infamous Black Widow, was visibly affected by your confidence and composure. The power dynamic between you was complex, a thrilling dance of control and attraction that neither of you could resist. As you moved to finish your tasks, you couldn't help but glance back at her, catching the hungry look in her eyes. It was clear that the night was far from over, and you both knew it.

As the night drew to a close, you finished up your duties behind the bar, efficiently counting the drawer and gathering your tips. The room was clearing out, leaving behind the quiet hum of a few lingering patrons and the soft clinking of glasses being cleaned. Natasha waited patiently, her eyes never leaving you, an enigmatic smile on her lips. The air between you crackled with unspoken promises and an undeniable connection.

Once everything was settled, you slipped out from behind the bar and walked over to Natasha. Without a word, she extended her hand, and you took it, feeling the warmth of her touch. The two of you left the bar, stepping into the cool night air. The drive to her mansion was quiet, filled with a charged silence that spoke volumes. You could feel the anticipation building, both of you eager for what was to come.

Back at her luxurious home, the door barely closed behind you before Natasha's lips were on yours, a passionate kiss that left you breathless. The power she usually wielded so effortlessly seemed to dissipate as she melted into you, her hands gripping your hips with a mix of need and vulnerability. You pulled away gently, looking into her eyes with a commanding intensity that made her shiver.

"Let me take control tonight," you whispered, your voice steady and confident. Natasha nodded, her gaze softening with trust and submission. It was a rare sight, seeing the formidable Black Widow willing to relinquish control, and it filled you with a sense of responsibility and power. You guided her to the bedroom, your movements assured and deliberate.

The night unfolded with a new dynamic. Natasha, always in control, allowed herself to be vulnerable, letting you take the lead. It was an intimate, tender exchange, a dance where you set the rhythm, and she followed. The shift in power felt natural, something both of you needed. For Natasha, it was a chance to let go of the burdens of leadership and dominance, to simply feel and be taken care of. For you, it was an opportunity to assert yourself, to embrace the power and control you often kept in check.

Afterward, you lay together in the quiet of her bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows. You held Natasha in your arms, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. It was a serene moment, a quiet intimacy that spoke of trust and understanding.

Natasha broke the silence, her voice soft and earnest. "Stay with me," she said, lifting her head to look at you. Her eyes searched yours, vulnerable and hopeful. "I want you to stay with me. Not just tonight, but... longer. Let me take care of you, treat you right. I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you."

Her words were filled with sincerity, and you could see the depth of her feelings in her gaze. It wasn't just a simple request; it was a promise, a commitment. Natasha, who always seemed so self-assured and in control, was offering you a piece of her heart, opening herself up in a way few ever got to see.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'd like that," you replied, your voice warm and tender. "I want to stay with you, Natasha."

A smile spread across her lips, genuine and full of relief. She leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, a silent agreement sealed with affection. As you held her close, you both knew this was just the beginning of something deeper, something real. It was a new chapter, a chance to explore a relationship built on mutual respect, trust, and love.

In that quiet moment, wrapped in each other's arms, you both felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. Natasha had found someone she could trust to take control when needed, and you had found a place where you could be both strong and cherished. It was a perfect balance, a harmony that promised a future full of possibilities. As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 3: X marks the spot

genre: finally some fluff! still some angst, but some fluff too!

word count: 5804

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you need spencer back home. so spencer comes back home. simple as that.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: you folks are amazing! thank you so much for the support and I know this chapter is a bit duller (aka famous filler chapter) but y/n needs a break from pain and suffering all the time lol <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

“She knows who I am.” 

That is the sentence that sets off Plan B. 

Spencer’s instructions are clear: call Penelope and go to the BAU. Office Kaper is to stay with you at all times until you enter the FBI and even then, he will personally deliver you to her caring hands, and for once, you don’t argue. In what has been a very dark past few days, you think that Penelope’s bright colours might do you well. “I have to close the shop,” You tell him on the phone, already changing from your sleeping shorts into some jeans, but keeping his hoodie. Right now, you’re not focused on appearances; you’re focused on getting the hell out of there. 

“That’s fine, but keep Officer Kaper with you. Was the envelope delivered to my place?”

“No,” You breathe out, backpack on and ready to go. Nodding to man that has become your loyal companion, the two of you walk out of the building like any civilian couple. It’s unsettling, watching a man that is not Spencer wear his clothes, but he had to blend in so you two didn’t stand out. 

“And he’s wearing my clothes?” 

You turn to look at Officer Kaper and you snort despite the situation. “As best as he can, though he is considerably shorter than you, Spence.”

“You’re calling me Spence,” He says, and even his voice sounds a bit more at ease. Somehow, in the midst of this craziness, you two find time to ease back into what once was and you manage a small smile despite the anxiety rushing through you. “I missed that.”

“I miss you,” Is what you say back, and you blame it on the adrenaline of being outside, so open and vulnerable to prying eyes. “I… I feel safer when you’re here.”

“I know,” You swear you hear something skin to a smile on his voice. “I’m on my way back.” 

“Yeah, in like three days,” Talking on the phone and closing your shop is no easy feat. You’re no genius and having to split your focus onto two different tasks is quite hard, but you manage. You don’t want to let him go yet, scared that one you can’t hear his voice, he’ll be as good as gone. 

“No, I’m on the jet right now, I should be landing in an hour.”

You shouldn’t feel this happy about having Spencer come back this soon and probably in the middle of an active case, but when a psychotic killer starts sending you handwritten letters, you feel entitled to being a little selfish, even if guilt and anxiety are mixed it like the perfect emotional cocktail. “You didn’t have to,” You say, biting your nails when you finally grab everything you need and lock the door behind you. “Spence, I– thank you.” 

“You need me home,” Is all he says before announcing he has to go.

The silence doesn’t make things easier. Now that you don’t have to split your mind in two to multitask, you can fixated on the fact that this is serious. This is quite serious– Cat Adams has just confirmed she knows you. She has also, however, confirmed she does not know where you are, and just like you told yourself before, you have to believe that there is something better than this out there. There is a moment in time, reserved and crafted by the sisters of fate, in which Cat Adams gets bored with you. You are no longer a struggling rat under the weight of her paws, and she is no longer entranced by how you try to wriggle out of maniacal grasp. In another moment, another sliver of an alternate reality, Cat never even finds out who you are. You like that reality a bit better, because then you also don’t know who she is, and the knowledge of her presence and her impact on Spencer’s life is as weightless as a feather. 

While the city passes by you, the taxi ride to the FBI not as quick as you’d like with the early morning traffic, you allow yourself one more scenario. One more reality. 

In this one, you live in an apartment with muted green walls. Your furniture is that fancy, dark shade of oak and you don’t have to keep your books on the store; instead, you have space to add them to your decoration. You have shelves and shelves of books lining your walls and you think you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than that place. The windows, large and usually covered by cream blinds, are open to allow some sunshine inside. In this reality, you’ve told Spencer all about the benefits of sunlight to your books– none of them true, of course, but he still pretends to believe you, and he still opens the windows before leaving for work. This time around, you dream big– in this alternate life, Spencer never even met Cat Adams. He never even applied to the FBI, in this odd, hallmark version of your story. It doesn’t really matter what he does, but all that matters is that you get to be with him. You get to wake up next to him, to talk to him, to call him… hell, you even get to kiss him! 

This reality, as utopian as it seems, it’s fragile, though. Unrealistic. Spencer loves his job, you know that now. A world where you keep him from it can’t truly be a perfect world, not when he’d be so, so unhappy without his team standing next to him. “Ma’am,” Officer Kaper calls. “We’re here.” 

“Oh!” Grabbing your backpack, you follow him inside, feeling a bit awkward at the way people started at your with puzzled looks on their faces. “Wait! Before you leave, this is for you! You mentioned your daughter likes stories and that she’s about five or so, so these should be fun!” Children’s book is one of your secret passions, and you’re happy to see him smiling as he looks through the titles. 

“You really didn’t have to, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I really wanted to, though,” You smile. You need some light in your life as you walk those beige hallways. “Let me know if she wants more– her dad is a hero, so we have a special deal at the store for you.” 

“I’ll tell little Jane that a very nice lady from work gave her new books then,” He says, nodding as Penelope rushes to your side. “Call me if you need anything else, Miss Y/L/N, I’m happy to help. If it makes you feel better, you’ve been dealing with this exceptionally well. It can’t be easy.”

The validation has you pursing your lips, trying to hold back the need to hug him. In no way, shape, or form are you two close– to be honest, this is the most you’ve spoken with Officer Kaper during the forty-eight hours you spent together; and yet, his opinion seems to mean something to you. Your hands hide behind your back and you exhale sharply, nodding at him, eyes glassing over with emotion. “Thank you,” You whisper, head whipping at the familiar sound of heels waddling down the hall. “I’ll uh, I’ll go… but thank you. For everything.” 

He just nods, leaving with a wave and a smile. 

“Either you joined the FBI since we last saw each other or this sweatshirt belongs to a certain genius man,” Penelope says, looking at you with the ghost of a smile. If you didn’t know any better, 

“What? Oh. Yeah, I borrowed it from Spence,” You mumble, hands nervously fidgeting with your backpack. There isn’t much of anything inside, and you think you got flustered when you had Spencer on the phone telling you to get ready to go. All you remember is packing your toothbrush, a couple of books, and some underwear. “Oh, sweet girl,” Penelope sighs, her arm light on your shoulders, guiding you through those horrid halls. You think you hate the FBI headquarters more than you hate Cat Adams, and that is saying something. “Everything will be okay. Boy genius is on it, and he’ll figure this out in no time.”

“Seven days is quite a lot of time,” It’s not fair, how your words make her frown, but you have no one else. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can control them because this is what you’ve been dying to do since you first left that goddamned office, seven fucking days ago. And that is your regret– not talking to Spencer when you had the chance, not letting him talk to you, not… not letting him be therefor you. “God, seven days is a lot– it’s a whole week! I don’t know what you believe in, but if you’re Catholic, God created the Earth in seven days and– well, six days and Sunday he rested, but honestly, semantics. And it’s a whole week, one-fourth of a month. Seven days, and– and–“

“I am not judging you, because I am the biggest yapper of this team,” Penelope cuts right in, hand up in the air between you two. “But you need to breathe. I know seven days is a lot. And I hate that you’re in a position that you feel like you need to count the days. But there are no better people to have on your corner than this team. I promise you, Y/N, and– look!” She shakes her phone in front of your face. “Lover boy just landed! He’ll be here soon, so for now, please sit down and drink some tea?”

The door in the end of many, many hallways later is her office. You don’t really understand the juxtaposition of Penelope Garcia, and that’s okay– you might not understand her, but at least, with her, it feels like what you see is what you get. She wears her authenticity on her sleeve and you actually feel at ease around her because of it. There is not an ounce of ambiguity, not a shred of secrecy coming from her. She looks at you– really looks at you– and in her eyes you know how she feels. Penelope, unlike the rest of the team, is not a trained profiler, and even though you are quite limited in your knowledge of what exactly a profiler like Morgan and JJ does, the internet provided you with enough general background that you know just how… proficient… they are in hiding their own selves from the world. Apparently it’s a part of the job, but at one point, you have to wonder just how intrinsic is the job and their overall selves, and if when Spencer comes back home, does he leaves the job behind or is he always on the clock?

“Here, it chamomile,” The mug is bright pink and purple, and despite the room being dark and cold, you see how she has made it her own. The figurines and stickers on the screens around you make you smile weakly, sipping on the tea while sitting down next to her. Her screens are locked, and you are thankful for that– it makes you feel like at least someone is trying to separate you and the world you never wanted to know existed. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug a little, finger running around the rim of the cup. “I… I’m scared. And this feels really stupid, you know? It’s not even about me, but I’m the one kicking a fuss about everything,” Shaking your head, you let out a big exhale, like you have been holding it in for the longest time. “All because of a silly crush, oh my god…” 

“Wait… Wha– What…?” 

“I know,” You laugh at yourself, that type of chuckle that is so dry and void that even you worry. Underneath it all, underneath all the anger and the confusion and the disbelief, you think you just feel… dumb. You feel stupid. Like you’ve played yourself, and poor Spencer doesn’t even know. “How stupid am I? Getting a serial killer on my back, all because I liked a boy? And it’s not even like he likes me back, so this is all just… so fucked up. I wish I could go visit her and tell her that I don’t have Spencer, not like how she thinks I do.” 

“You like Reid?” Her smile is so big that her voice comes out all weird and squeaky. “You actually have a crush on little boy genius?”

“I–“ The hesitation in your voice is obvious. “I did. Spence is just so kind. And gentle, and loving, and he has this huge heart, you know? He used to bring me coffee every day he visited, and he would tell me all these really cool facts about the most random things, and I swear, I loved listening to him talk.” Without even realising, you’re smiling, wide and true, for what it felt like the first time in forever. You bring your legs up on the chair, hugging your knees close just to feel that sense of security it brings you, grounding you in the moment. The memories of your time with him, your favourite customer, are precious to you; and much like old time treasure, you hide it in the depths of your mind, away and untouched by prying hands of people around you. 

Except, Cat Adams found your map. 

And X marks the spot. 

It’s just a matter of time until she finds the golden chest and picks at the lock. 

Slowly, your smile slips away. “But now… now things changed, you know?” You gulp, not having the capacity to face the pitiful look she gives you without crying. And you’re tired of crying. 

“You didn’t change. Reid didn’t change, he’s still the same kind and gentle and loving man…!” You’re almost swayed by the desperation behind her voice. Penelope is a great friend and you can’t believe you were once jealous of her, but even then, you grimace. It’s not like you don’t want to let yourself be guided by these feelings– you want to let the butterflies loose, you want to allow yourself the giddiness of being with him, you want to have this quintessential girlhood experience, but the threat looming over your head pushes you down and away. You’re scared and you have all the reason to be. 

“Haven’t I?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. “Anyways, at the risk of sounding like a middle schooler, it’s not like he likes me either.”

“Y/N, he– he’s different,” Penelope whispers, reaching for your hand. “He’s afraid of germs and rambles a lot and he’s been hurt before, but please, if you just give him a shot, I think you could be really good for him.” 

“How would you know?” You’re not trying to be rude, you even smile a little, but the question stood– how would she know? You two had very limited interactions. 

“Because he talks a lot about you, and… well,” She confesses, chuckling like she had just done something naughty. When she points at the screens though, you gasp. “I know more about you thank you think.”

That makes your blood run cold. “You– what– what did you find out?” 

“Not as much as I could’ve!” She quickly promises, turning to the screen and quickly pulling up a file. The first thing you see is your driver’s license, and you wince at the picture. “This is all I managed to get before Reid put a ban on me!”

“He put a ban on you looking me up?” 

“Yes, he said he didn’t want to cheat and that he wanted to wait for you to tell him whatever you wanted to tell him,” Her words come out so fast you barely understand them, but it still tugs at your heart. “He said you didn’t know who he was because you didn’t know he worked for the FBI, and I tried telling him that’s not all he is! I did, but Reid is a stubborn, stubborn genius and wouldn’t listen to me! But he is, Y/N, he is much more than this job and–“

“I know that,” You whisper, eyes running through the documents on the screen. Degrees, past addresses, old jobs, family… and past relationships. Your body tenses up at the small list of names, one in particular making you gulp, glancing quickly at Penelope. “This is all, right? You… you didn’t dig more, right?” 

“Yes, this is all! I promise! To be very honest, I could find anything I wanted, but as I mentioned, I’ve been banished and threatened with a long, long lecture on privacy laws.” 

Her words echo in your mind for a moment, eyes unmoving from the bright screens. “Anything?” 

Penelope looks at your with hesitation. “Anything that has been online, yeah. Why?”

Sitting back down, you take a deep breath and nod. “Show me Cat Adams.”

“Oh… Oh, Y/N, no, no no no, I can’t–“

“Yes, you can! You just said you can find anything and, honestly how hard would it be for me to pick up my phone and Google her? If the FBI made the arrest, I’m sure media has picked it up!” Before you can even reach for the device, Penelope is grabbing it, hiding it behind her. “Penelope, please! This woman wants to kill me, I deserve to know what she looks like!”

Your voice is hushed, the undertone of desperation seeping through every word. “What if she gets out?” 

“Y/N, she has a life sentence, she’ll never get out.”

“You don’t know that!” This is what scares Penelope, the way you screech in panic, hands flying to the neck of the hoodie and tugging it away from you like you need it to breathe. “You don’t know that and I need to know what she looks like! Please, Penelope, I’m begging you!”

The tension in the room is palpable, but you know you got through her when she sighed. “I’m doing this for your protection,” It’s more like she’s talking to herself, so all you do is nod quietly, getting up and walking to the back of her chair. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” You are holding your breath while you squeeze the back of her chair, trying to keep yourself upright for a moment that could easily throw off your balance. 

In all honesty, you are not sure what you’re expecting. The little you know about black widow killers comes from a fictional world of made up characters, a place where the fantastical magic of made up stories meets the trauma ridden lives of turbulent characters. In them, these killers are beautiful. In fact, their beauty is their weapon, right before their grace and intelligence. It’s almost sick, how you remember liking those stories so much you once called it ‘a form of female empowerment’, and just thinking about it has your stomach tied in a bunch of knots, each one pulling and tugging at you in a rhythm that is too chaotic to not have you hunched over, panting next to Penelope like the photo she pulls up on her computer has just punched you in the gut. 

Because despite all your silent prayers, Cat Adams, in her orange jumpsuit and messy prison hair, is gorgeous. It’s something about her eyes, so cold and distant, yet holding an invitation that even you might not be able to resist. Is this how she draws men in? Is this how she drew Spencer? “I–“

“Garcia, what are you doing?!” 

Both of your turn around at the same time, both of you shocked at the sight of Spencer, in all his sweater vest glory and red face anger, marching towards you both. “Take it down.” 

You have never heard him sound so cold. “Spence, I asked her to pull it up. I was curious.”

“She should’ve known better, she’s an FBI agent!” Now he is screaming, and you can’t help but feel overcome with a familiar type of shame. Part of you, a specific part you left back in New York, expects him to to keep screaming. It’s the part of you that unconsciously pushes the tea mug away. It’s the part of you that looks at the door and feels relieved to see it unlocked. It’s the part of you you’ve been hiding from him and everyone else you met since you’ve moved. 

It’s the part of you Spencer just noticed. 

“I’m sorry,” He says, squinting his eyes at your so quickly it’s almost imperceptible. Almost. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed, I’m just–“

“On edge,” You whisper, nodding in agreement. “We all are, Spence. Don’t scream at her, please.”

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry,” This is more like him– shy eyes casted down between glances here and there. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on someone like her. She doesn’t deserve it.” 

No one says anything for a while. Until you notice it. 

“Spence,” You mumble, smiling a little in an attempt to ease the high emotions in the room. “You cut your hair.” It’s shorter now. His shaggy curls still peek out, but it looks more… grown, even if it enhances his boyish charm. 

“I did,” He mumbles, blushing a little. For a second, he looks at Penelope, like he’s asking her what to say and what to do. “It was getting too long.”

“It looks really good.” 

“Thank you, Y/N,” God, you love when his voice gets low and airy like that. Garcia is looking between you two with a certain kind of spark in her eyes and it makes you shift on your feet. “Uh, shall we go home?” 

“You’re going back to your apartment?”

“Yeah, Officer Kaper said that the letter came with the batch of mail they got from Y/N’s apartment, so it’s safe to assume she has no knowledge of her current whereabouts,” Spencer picks up your backpack without even asking, smiling at you innocently. “I reviewed the security footage you sent of my apartment entrance and there is no suspicious activity happening during the days I was gone. And, well, you know, I’m here now. She’s safe.” 

No one will ever understand the amount of relief you feel in that exact moment. “Thank you for coming back.”

“You need me home,” Is all he says before guiding you away. When you turn to say bye to Penelope, she is smirking, giving you two thumbs up and a giggle. In the midst of all this mess, you actually feel happy to have someone allowing you to enjoy a moment of silliness. “Are you okay? Do you feel a bit better?”

“Now that you’re back, yeah,” You sigh, sticking close to him as you pass by a group of agents. “Officer Kaper is really sweet, but he’s not you, he’s not–“

“Familiar,” Spencer says, but you shake your head. 

“He’s not my friend.” 

“And I am?” The hope in his eyes crushes your heart. You never meant to make him feel like you had left him behind, but you know you have pushed him away when he tried to stand by you. 

No more. 

“You are, Spence,” You breathe out, hand gently falling on his arm and squeezing it adoringly. “You’re my favourite customer and I guess now you’re my living room-mate. But you should really sleep in your bed tonight, okay?” The joke is just an attempt to make him smile, and you’re happy to see it works.

“Will you sleep next to me?” 

His question is not that unexpected, really, but it still makes you freeze in place. “Uh… What… What do you mean?” 

“Sleep next to me,” His bluntness doesn’t help with the way your cheeks fire up. “I know you’re scared, so if you’re next to me, I’ll be watching over you at all times. I’m a light sleeper, so even if something happens, I’ll wake up. We can put pillows between us, if the thought of me that close to you makes you uncomfortable and–“

“It doesn’t,” You say before you can give up on it. “I just… I know you’re a germaphobe and I don’t know how many germs can be shared when you sleep next to someone and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Actually, when you sleep next to someone, there is an exchange of bacteria and skin microbes when we turn and move around, but your brain compensates by releasing the ‘happy’ hormones because you’re sleeping next to someone you care about, so I wouldn’t mind the former much considering we would wake up pretty content.” 

Someone you care about. You hold your tongue back from asking him if he cares about you– at this point, you should know he does. You shouldn’t need the reassurance, as nice as it would feel to have it, but you really, really want it. In a time where everything is uncertain, you pray so that Spencer can be your constant. “Okay,” You nod, hand slowly slipping down his arm, brushing yours fingers through his, before letting it go altogether. Looking down to the ground, embarrassed with your own courage, you follow him out of the building. “The subway is that way.”

“We’re getting a taxi,” He mumbles, signalling one down as he spoke. “I don’t think public spaces with that much visibility are a good idea for now. I don’t want you paranoid, Y/N, but I need you to be careful, okay? Subways, buses, all of these get crowded and they have a large amount of surveillance. We still can’t figure out how Cat found out where you live or who is her connection that got your name through the UPS delivery, but we’re not stopping until we do, I promise you that. For now, we just ask that you be careful around people.”

“I work with people. I have to talk to them to sell them stuff… I can’t lose my store, it’s all I have!” The two of you turn to face each other on the back of the car. He is shaking his head before you can even continue, and when you feel it, the warmth of his hands covering yours, so much bigger and steadier to the point that is like he’s holding your fists in his palms, you hold your breath. 

“You won’t,” He whispers, shaking his head so gently that wisps of hair fall over his forehead and you have to fight the urge to push it back. “Y/N, you won’t. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

“Okay,” The trust you have in Spencer is enough to have you nodding along. Until the car stops in front of his apartment, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and you make no effort in letting go of his. 

It’s only when it’s time to pay for the ride that you pull away, faster than him in getting the money to the driver. “Hey!” 

“Be faster next time, boy genius,” You say, smiling tiredly while walking next to him through the hallways of his building until you reach Apartment 23. Using your key in front of him, the one he gave you when he went away, feels weird and oddly intimate. “Do you want this back?”

“Keep it,” Spencer says, giving you his trademark tight-lipped smile. The way his shoulders sag a little as soon as he is inside the familiar apartment has you frowning. He is exhausted, tired from flying and rushing through the city, but he still made the effort to come get you at the BAU. “What do you want for dinner? We can get some pizza.” 

“I have leftovers in the fridge,” You mumble, suddenly too out of place in the apartment you know at the palm of your hand. Standing in the entrance, you just look at him, watching him walk around the apartment so carelessly and you wonder if Spencer knows just how meaningful it is for you to have him back home. “I bought groceries, don’t worry, I didn’t use any of your food or anything like that.”

“I wasn’t worried, but now I am. I told you to be comfortable Y/N.” 

“I am…” You mumble, moving to sit down on the armchair. 

Under his watchful gaze, you’re not sure how much Spencer can get out of your behaviour right now. It’s a bit sad that you’re even thinking about this so consciously, observing him as he observes you right back. You know you will never win a battle of wits against the genius across the room, but no ones knows you better than yourself and that is currently your only leverage in this entire situation. But… why do you even need leverage? What is this war you have started with yourself and pulled poor Spencer in without even letting him know? The blanket you adore so much is right by your feet and you pull it up to cover your whole body, all the way up to your face. At this point, you don’t want him reading you because you’re afraid of what he will find. Specially because you don’t know what he will find. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” When he sits on the corner of the chair, your body dips to the side, rolling closer to him. “Are you hiding?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And why are you hiding?” 

“Because you’re an avid reader,” Even you want to cringe at your own words. “And I’m not really sure what story I’m telling, right now.” 

His laughter takes you by surprise– this has to be the loudest you’ve heard Spencer be. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I’m not going to read you!”

“Spencer, you can’t help it! It’s what you do– I see the way you look at me, okay? I know what you’re doing, and I have to say I am not a fan!”

With one tug on the blanket, your face is exposed again with hair all over it. But then you see his smile, and it looks so honest and happy, like a version of him you thought you had left behind days ago. “You think I’m reading you?”

“Are you not?” You ask, sitting up to try and look at him with a serious expression. 

“No, Y/N, I’m not looking at you because I’m reading you.” 

There are moments in your life, unique and specific in their own credits, that you are sure you will never forget. The day you decided to leave New York is one of them– you bought tickets last minute and left with only a rucksack you found in the back of your closet. On the way to the airport, you called your parents, waking them up at three in the morning to tell them they were going to need to ship your stuff to a PO box address. Y/N, where are you going?, your mom cried out. What is going on? To which all you said was I’ll tell you when I can, before hanging up and throwing your SIM card out of the window. 

Opening your store was high in the list too. Not the day that you conceptualised it or rented the place– the day you truly opened it. The day your first customer, your favourite customer, walked in, that’s the day you truly opened the place. The day he bought a book and promised to come back again. 

Of course there are other dates, too; simpler dates. Birthdays, christmases, random family dinners. The small things that build-up to be big memories. But then there are the big things that are even bigger memories, and you’re intimidated, with the size of it all. It’s too big, too tall, and when you fall, it might just be high enough to break all your bones, but not kill you completely. No… that would be too merciful. 

This– Cat Adams, Spencer, the box– this is not just big. 

This is huge. 

In comparison, tonight is not all that big. In fact, his living room feels quite small now that both of you are back inside. The green walls descend and it’s just you and him, squeezed close in an arm chair you both love, surrounded by books you both love, and you still can’t help but feel afraid. This is as small as it gets, as monotonous as it gets, and yet, this is the most scared you’ve ever felt, because no matter what you do, it’s like you can’t stop climbing– you go higher, higher, higher. His words, replaying in your mind, keep pushing you up, without any regard of how you’ll ever come down. 

Truthfully, you don’t want to come down, even if he brings you down gently. 

“Then… why do you stare at me, Spence?”

He doesn’t answer you, shaking his head slightly before looking away and clearing his throat. Uncomfortableness doesn’t look good on him, and that is saying something, coming from the one person who thinks everything looks good on him. “I uh, I’ll heat up some of those leftovers. Shall I get you some, too?” 

Spencer might the profiler, but you are still able to read the blooming colour in his cheeks. “Yeah,” You say softly, I would love some, Spence.”

Dinner with him is peaceful. You’re learning how to live this new life with a plus one. You learn his habits and his quirks– you learn that he likes to put ketchup on his pizza and that he drowns his coffee in sugar. That despite his immense IQ, he still can’t quite cook for himself– or prefers not doing so. That he made sure his cleaning lady came during the times he was away to avoid small talk and human contact. You learn, through a lot of trials and a lot of success, that you are his one exception. 

For you, Spencer is malleable, and he has no qualms in moulding himself to your needs, except… except you don’t want him to do that. You don’t want him to be someone he’s not and you don’t want the Spencer you know and adore to be someone curated just for you. 

“I’ll go take a shower and change into some comfortable clothes,” He says after he finishes eating. “Thank you for the food.” 

“No problem.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You can keep that hoodie. You look good in it.” 

Just like that, you chuckle, shaking your head when he disappears behind the bedroom door. If Cat Adams has the map to your past memories, Spencer Reid has the map to your future ones. 

X marks the spot. 

And for him there is no lock to pick– the door is wide open. 

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

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Say You Want Me Too 𝜗𝜚 John Price

Kinktober Day XVII: Honeymoon

summary: the first night after getting married is always special tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, praise, body worship, sweet lovemaking, fluff wc: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

You let out a fit of giggles, watching your new husband press his face into your thigh, clamping his teeth around your lacy white garter before ripping it off your body, his large hands holding your legs apart.

He gazes up at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief before he drops the garter from the clutches of his mouth, letting it fall to the floor as he yanks your legs over his shoulders, burying his nose into your pubic mound.

With a low growl of desire, John's rough yet warm palms slide up the length of your thighs, his thumbs gently teasing your sensitive skin. He looks up at you, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and admiration. He whispers huskily, his voice dripping with desire, "Never imagined this is how I'd spend my nights. Never imagined I'd be lucky enough to call you mine." Before you can respond, his lips press against your center, his tongue tracing a path of fire as he tastes every inch of you hungrily.

John's gaze locks onto yours, his blue eyes piercing through the dimly lit room. He leans closer, his hot breath tickling your skin as his lips part in a sensuous smile. He slowly trails kisses upwards, along your thighs, leaving a path of warmth in his wake. With a firm grip on your hips, he pulls you closer, deepening the connection between the two of you. His tongue swirls around your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your breath hitch.

The sound of your moans fuels his desire, driving him to please you further. He moves his lips down, delving deeper into your wetness, his tongue exploring every fold and curve.

Raising his head for a brief moment, John flashes a cocky grin, his cheeks flushed with desire. "You taste so bloody perfect," he murmurs against your skin, his voice gruff with need. He gently nibbles on your thigh, sending a shiver through your body.

John's fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance, testing your readiness. He smirks as you squirm beneath his touch, a thrill coursing through him. "You like that, love?" His eyes twinkle with a playful challenge as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. The salty tang of sweat mixes with the sweetness of your arousal, an intoxicating cocktail that makes his heart race.

He slides two fingers inside you, curling them expertly while continuing his assault on your clit. The rhythm is relentless, matching the tempo of his racing pulse.

John's eyes never leave yours as he works his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit in tandem with the movements of his tongue.

He savors the feeling of your body tensing underneath him, the way your muscles contract around his fingers. His desire grows stronger, his erection straining against his trousers. He wants nothing more than to be inside you, but first, he needs to see you fall apart in his arms. John increases the pressure, his tongue flicking rapidly against your sensitive nerves.

"Come on,” he breathes your name. “Let go," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. He feels you getting closer, your moans turning desperate, your hips bucking against his mouth. John's fingers curl deeper inside you, his movements becoming more urgent. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure, each gasp and moan spurring him on. He feels his release building, mirroring the storm brewing within you.

Finally, with a keening cry, you shatter beneath him, your body convulsing in ecstasy. John drinks in your pleasure, his release held at bay by sheer force of will. As your tremors subside, he slowly withdraws his fingers, planting a final kiss on your damp skin before rising to his feet.

With a satisfied sigh, John moves up your body, trailing kisses along your stomach, chest, and neck. He cradles your head in one hand, supporting it gently as he looms over you.

He reaches down with his other hand and unbuttons his trousers, freeing himself. John's erection springs forth, hard and insistent. He positions himself at your entrance, savoring the heat radiating from your core. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against yours, tasting yourself in your mouth.

With a fervent hunger, John's lips capture yours in a deep kiss, his tongue dancing against yours as he aligns himself with your entrance. His fingers flex against your hipbones as he pushes inside, filling you. He groans into your mouth, the sensation of you tightening around him sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

John breaks the kiss, his gaze never leaving yours as he begins to thrust. Each movement is deliberate and decisive, mirroring the intensity of his feelings. He wants to claim you and mark you as his own. The headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall, echoing the primal beat of their lovemaking. As John drives deeper into you, he lets out a low moan, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. His pace quickens, each thrust more brutal than the last.

John's grip tightens on your hips as he feels your body respond to his, the heat building between you two unbearable. His heart pounds in his chest, the adrenaline of the moment taking over. He leans down, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance as old as time itself. As he moves inside you, John's thoughts become primal—each stroke a testament to his desire, each gasp from you a reward for a job well done.

He can't help but think back to all the times he's been close to death, all the moments he thought would be his last, and how they pale in comparison to this. With a growl, John breaks the kiss and whispers in your ear, "I love you." He nips at your earlobe, groaning your name into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He rolls his hips, changing the angle slightly, and you cry out in pleasure. The sound goes straight to his core, pushing him closer to the edge. John's movements become erratic, his breathing ragged. He lifts his head, eyes blazing into yours, and says, "Come for me, love." As if on command, your body tightens around him, and your orgasm crashes over you both. John follows suit, his release powerful and intense. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he rides out the waves of pleasure.

When it finally subsides, John rolls off you, pulling you close to his side. He softly kisses your forehead, his hand idly stroking your arm as he catches his breath. His heart rate slows, and he feels a sense of peace he hasn't known in years.

In the aftermath of passion, John’s body cools down, his breathing evening out as he holds you close. He gazes at you with a tender smile, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your bare shoulder.

Leaning in, John nuzzles your neck, planting feather-light kisses along your collarbone. "My wife," he murmurs, his voice still rough with desire. His eyes roam over your flushed features, taking in every detail of your beauty. "You're mine,"

main masterlist, rules

[octuscle]

Halloween Spirit

Mortimer didn't think much of video games and the like. Like social media, he blamed them for the dumbing down of the population and the success of populist parties. And if proof were needed, his cousin Dylan was proof. Dumb as a bag of

Since he couldn't find a hotel anymore, Mortimer had been forced to stay with Dylan during a conference. They hadn't talked much, Dylan was usually out with his “bros.” At the gym, at the sports bar, at the football game. Mortimer had used the evenings accordingly and cleaned the apartment, which was quite a mess. And when he came home in the evening, he was glad when a little of that cleanliness and order remained. Today he was lucky: the apartment was almost in the same condition as when he left it in the morning. There was only a PSP with a note on the dining room table. In Dylan's clumsy handwriting it said, “Bro, can you help me with the Halloween quiz? I always fail on the first I'll be back at eight, let's go for a steak then.” Mortimer was a vegan. Of course Dylan knew that. Mortimer sighed, took the PSP and sat down on the sofa.

“What is the etymology of the name Halloween?“ Good heavens, thought Mortimer! Is this going to continue at this level? He typed in ‘All Hallows’ Eve.” “Who does the custom of carving and lighting jack-o'-lanterns commemorate (last name, first name)?” Did Dylan really not know that, Mortimer wondered and typed in “Jack Oldfield.” “Wrong” lit up on the display. “The correct answer would have been 'Oldfield, Jack'.” Out of the blue, Mortimer had to burp. Stupid software, he thought. A good AI would have recognized that he had only mixed up the order. He took a sip of cola from the can on the coffee table. ‘On which day do children in Germany traditionally go from door to door collecting sweets?’ Mortimer scratched his head. That was on St. Martin's Day. But when was that again? He typed in “November 11th.” Again, “Wrong! The correct message would have been November 10th.” Mortimer burped again. Hehehe, that was a good one. Came from the chili today. He took a slice of cold pizza out of the box next to him and moved on to the next question. “What is a zombie brain hemorrhage?” Mortimer had no idea. He just wrote “a TV series”. “Wrong, a zombie brain haemorrhage is a cocktail made of peach schnapps, mint liqueur, Bailey's Irish cream and a dash of grenadine.” Mortimer farted. Damn, the chili had been really good. But something else stank too. Mortimer raised his arm. No, that wasn't it. That was honest man sweat. Just the way a man had to smell. Mortimer pushed up his undershirt and scratched his stomach. This game was really boring. “What is the most popular Halloween costume of 2024?” Mortimer didn't feel like it anymore. He would put on his football gear like every year. With that, he could get any guy into bed. Especially the little nerds. They weren't so bad, usually made a real effort in bed… Shit, what was the question again? Okay, so “football player”. “Wrong, the correct answer would have been ‘Shrunken Head Bob’.” Was there another beer in this pigsty, Mortimer wondered. He looked at what other games Dylan had on the PSP. When was the idiot finally coming home? They were supposed to go out for a steak with the guys. Mortimer could definitely use some protein. He flexed his biceps. Yes, the babies needed feeding.

“Bruh, im still stucc in traffic. Ill b home in about a quarter of an hr. Get ready fo' an epic dinner!” Mortimer knew what that meant. He wouldn't need his best buddy Dylan for the next hour. Enough time to play another round of Peace Walker. And then there was finally meat, almost raw, just how Morty liked it best. Hehehe, rare is also good for Halloween. His favorite holiday. But who could come up with such a stupid quiz with smart-aleck questions about it was a mystery to him.

[silhouetteonpaper]

In Celebration

Part 2 Summary: You and Natasha have been questioning the boundaries between co-workers, friends, and maybe even something more. After a perfect day spent with her, she has a suprise second date that leaves you guessing. Unfortunately for you, it’s more than just a suprise. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,409 Warnings/Themes: Fluff, reader has anxiety

“Thanks for adventuring out with me,” Natasha expressed as the two of you entered the compound. “I had a lot of fun.” She smirked, the same smile that had painted her face while you two were out exploring the city now creeping back up. You nodded once, more than happy to have accepted her invitation for a day out.

Was it a date? You weren’t quite sure, but you were eager to spend any time at all with the Widow. Ever since you joined the team a few months ago, your relationship had been left without labels. Sure you were both friendly, but she was also flirty. And you had no clue how to react, especially when Natasha had been on the team longer. You didn’t want to screw the opportunity up.

“Of course, thanks for the invite,” You rocked back and forth on your toes. “We should do it again sometime.” Natasha’s grin revealed itself, a single nod now being repeated back to you. As she turned on her feet to head back to her room, there was a pause as Natasha stopped in her tracks and faced you once more.

“Oh, and—“ Your eyes met, hers full of that desire you so desperately craved all for yourself. “Get changed into something nice. Meet me downstairs in thirty.” And just like that, she was gone. What the hell? Was that an invite to a second date? Two in one day had to be a new record for you. But before you had time to process her words, you were already following her orders and dressing in something more fitting.

A cocktail dress and heels, perfect for any dinner date, bar crawl, club dance, or night on the town. It was hard to contain the fluttering in your chest while you slipped into the new outfit, the possibilities of what the night could contain letting your mind run wild. What were Natasha’s intentions? You tried to prevent your imagination from getting the best of you, as you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

The thirty minutes dragged on too long for your liking, but eventually you were ready and waiting with bated breath. You’d fully fixed your hair and makeup on top of your new attire, prepared to dazzle the redhead for whatever the night would entail. And dazzle was right; the second Natasha met you in the hallway downstairs, she was speechless. That was rare for her, she always had something cunning to say. But her eyes were too busy looking you up and down to even think of something as trivial as words.

“Hey, what’d you have planned?” You asked cautiously, stepping over to meet her. She smirked again, but this time something more mischievous laid beneath her green eyes. She only grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she pulled you down the hall.

The sudden sound of chatter grew, mixed with the soft tune of music playing overhead. You furrowed your brow, unsure what could be lying out in the gallery. As you rounded the corner, your eyes went wide.

A banner reading Welcome to the Team! was strung across the floor to ceiling windows. Hundreds of people who worked for S.H.I.E.L.D in some way or another littered the open floor. Front and center was the team, watching your reaction with excitement; all with a drink in hand. Your eyes darted across the room, suddenly realizing that this wasn’t an intimate night with Natasha—the team was throwing you an official welcome party.

Unbeknownst to Natasha, you hated big gatherings—especially when they surrounded you. You never had a graduation party, hadn’t celebrated your birthday in ages, and even went out of your way to avoid crowded holiday events. But that was all before you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. None of them had any idea you were this anxious around crowds.

You turned to face Natasha with a weary look. Her expression dropped the second she realized you weren’t surprised, and rather unsure about the party. “Natasha…” You trailed off, shaking your head. As much as you enjoyed small parties and little get togethers, organized events that made you the center of attention were your worst nightmare. But no one could’ve known that, so you felt guilty. They set this all up for you, and here you were wanting to crawl back into your bedroom and hide.

She quickly turned to the team waiting eagerly for you to come over. Holding up a finger to convey ‘one moment’, Natasha grabbed your wrist softly and guided you out into the hallway. The echoing chatter of the crowd died down as the air found your lungs again. You pressed yourself up against the cold marble wall with closed eyes, wincing as it all hit you.

“Hey,” Natasha’s voice grew closer; suddenly you felt her hand on your waist. “You don’t like crowds, do you?” It was less of a question and more of an informed guess, which the redhead likely already knew the answer to. It didn’t take a world-class agent to see how anxious the sudden surprise made you—which led you to feel even more self-conscious, because that was exactly what had happened.

You nodded, refusing to open your eyes in hopes the muffled sound of the crowd would disappear. She sighed, using her other hand to rub up and down your arm in comforting motions. You knew she wasn’t frustrated with you, but it didn’t matter; you were frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry.” You spoke, finally opening your eyes to face the Widow with a concerned expression.

“Why are you sorry? I’m sorry, for springing this on you. I should’ve at least warned you.” She countered, almost defensively. Natasha wasn’t going to let you blame yourself for this. She understood the fear, especially when the room next door was full of America’s strongest soldiers.

You tilted your head to the side, eyes finding the floor as you processed. “I’d hate to ruin something you guys all planned for me. I really appreciate the gesture, I do… I just—“

“I know,” Natasha interrupted, her hand moving to caress your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything, I promise. In fact… I have an idea.” She bit her lip, pausing for a moment before scurrying off into the gallery. You were left alone in the hall, a confused expression painted on your face while you sat in silence.

You could hear the chatter inside die down for a moment, some shuffling footsteps soon picking up and the music growing softer. Within minutes, Natasha’s heels clacked against the marble out into the hallway. She was smirking, her arm outstretched for yours to take.

“What…?” You questioned, hesitantly reaching out. She was silent, only guiding you back into the gallery. The second you walked in, it was hard to sustain your chuckle. It was quieter, this time the team was all facing away from you and conversing with one another. No one was looking at you waiting for a reaction. The banner was modified, now reading Welcome Team!, the former words in between obviously ripped out with haste.

You faced Natasha, finally letting yourself laugh as you hugged her. “Thank you, this is perfect.” The attention wasn’t on you, and you could still be a part of the fun. She made it work, just like she always does. Though for the first time, you saw her problem solve out of compassion—not just for work. The idea of her doing this just for you made you melt.

“Of course, we’re all proud of you. And, we all care about you. You’re part of the team now.” She held the embrace for a moment before pulling back to lock eyes with you. It took you both a few seconds before realizing you were just staring into each other’s gaze, craving the company you’d found in one another. But the party was waiting, and so were your friends.

You both walked up to the group, everyone deep in conversation by the time you arrived. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t even know you were here.” Thor stated, earning an elbow in the side from Natasha as the group laughed. You joined in, grinning as you realized just how much everyone cared. They were all here to support you as a new team member and as a friend. As for Natasha, maybe even something more. And you couldn’t wait to find out where that would lead.

[savaalienfish]

Sinedenian wetlands 🐠🌾 Deep in the lands of the continent, lie many twisting rivers, lakes, temporary and permanent, with floods and rains they flow into one another, basking in the warm starlight and soaking it in like a sponge. Mixing all kinds of life, this crazy cocktail of all the living would drive any ecologist crazy, but for life on Sinedey its the norm, and any creature you see is ready for a sudden change of residency. So as this morning is perfectly normal, as the star slowly rises on the horizon, giving warmth to each little and big thing in here, giving them a fresh start for a new day. A pair of Yachtnik Rinsers slowly barges through the floaty boat vegetation and the young Khloppy tree thickets. They are ready for having their breakfast consisting of water rich with plankton of all kinds, these warm blooming waters provide plenty of food for even such 10 meter long giants. Yachtniks are members of an especially ancient taxa of sinedenian animals, that are characterized by their rows of false legs on their abdomen, only first two and the last one pairs of legs are their true limbs. They get their name from their unique feeding strategy, in which they use their net shaped fused lower jaw to swallow water and then rinse it inside of their mouths, swallowing all of the plantkton, and then spitting the clean water out of their mouth opening. Surrounding this pair of giants thrive myriads of many other creatures, that will be explored in way more detail in a video I'll be making soon! Stay tuned!

Close ups!.

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

NIGHT OUT (M)

★ PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 3k

★ GENRE(S): smut

☆ SUMMARY: One night out with the girls couldn't hurt. Right?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: alcohol, unprotected sex, spanking, degradation, smut, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Based of this tiktok. Thanks to everyone who voted on Jaemin during the poll! I just wanted to write something quick while i worked on another WIP.

────୨ৎ────

“Girl, come on! We haven’t seen you in so long!” your friend pleads from the other end of the line.

“I know, but it’s already late, and you know how Jaemin gets about me going out without him,” you reply, glancing at the time and feeling the weight of exhaustion tugging at your eyelids.

You’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep, with an old movie playing faintly in the background when your friend’s call interrupts your quiet evening. It feels like ages since you’ve had a night out with just the girls. After a rough encounter with a sleazy guy at a bar—once—Jaemin has refused to let you step out alone ever since.

“There’s nothing to worry about! You’ll be with us. Nothing is going to happen. He just worries too much,” she reassures you.

“I mean, yeah… but still, I don’t want to deal with him fussing over it,” you say, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“Well, he doesn’t have to know! It’s been ages since we’ve had a girls’ night,” she insists, her excitement palpable.

She has a point. You ponder it for a brief moment, weighing your options. “Fine, but I’m not trying to be out all night,” you concede, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face as you imagine the laughter and fun you’ve been missing.

────୨ৎ────

Your friends all arrive and start pregaming at your house while you finish getting ready. Sitting at your vanity, you apply the final touches to your makeup.

“We are going to have so much fun tonight!” Mia exclaims, a wide grin on her face.

“Do you really think it will be okay?” you start to feel a twinge of worry.

“Uh-uh! Stop thinking about him,” Chae interjects, unexpectedly shoving a drink into your hand. “You need to relax and have fun—just drink this!”

You take the shot in one smooth motion, and before you know it, another one has found its way into your grasp. By the time the Uber arrives at your place, you’re already feeling a pleasant buzz, and thoughts of Jaemin have drifted away.

You realize how much you’ve missed nights out with your girls. You pile into the back of the Uber, your thighs sticking to the leather seats of the car in your short dresses as laughter fills the air. Camera flashes erupt as you snap selfies, capturing the joy of the moment. Once you arrive at the club, you finish off Liz's flask, the alcohol warming you further, and soon you’re stumbling and giggling as you make your way inside.

As you step inside the club, the bass thumps like a heartbeat, reverberating through your body and igniting a surge of exhilaration. The lights flash in vibrant colors, creating a pulsing atmosphere that feels electric. The air is thick with a mix of perfume, sweat, and excitement; it’s intoxicating. You can hardly keep your feet on the ground as the music wraps around you, urging your body to sway and move. The heat from the packed dance floor envelops you, making your cheeks flush and your skin prickle with anticipation.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, laughing and dancing with your friends. Each beat sends shivers down your spine, and you feel alive, as if the worries of the day have been stripped away. You spin and twirl, your hair flying around you as everyone is lost in their own little world.

After an hour of dancing, Liz gestures towards the bar, and your group eagerly follows her lead, ready to replenish your drinks and fuel your night. The bar is bustling, with people ordering shots and cocktails, laughter echoing as drink orders are called out. Neon lights illuminate the area, and you spot a bartender skillfully shaking drinks, tossing bottles in the air like they’re mere toys.

As you line up behind Liz at the bar, Chae is busy scrolling through her phone, her fingers flicking over the screen. Suddenly, you gasp, your heart racing for a different reason.

“What?” Chae looks up at you, concern etched on her face.

“Jaemin texted meee!” you squeal, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He’s asking what I’m doing. What do I sayyyy?”

Liz turns around, her expression shifting to one of playful indifference as she waves her hand dismissively. “Girl, just lie,” she rolls her eyes, clearly unfazed by the drama of texting your boyfriend while out.

You pause, biting your lip. Your fingers hovering over your keyboard as you contemplate what to say.

[10:23] what r u doing

[11:45] watching a movie whats up?

You’re about to tuck your phone back into your purse when it suddenly dings again.

[11:46] are you gonna be up? can I call?

Your stomach drops, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. “Guys, he wants to call me,” you glance nervously at your phone.

“Girl, give me the phone!” Mia snatches it from your hands and types something quickly before handing it back.

[11:47] nah im about 2 go 2 sleep ttyl!

“MIA!” you yell, a mixture of frustration and disbelief in your voice.

“WHAT?!” she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t text like that! He’s going to know something’s up!” you groan, the last thing you wanted tonight was to get into it with him.

Looking back at your phone, you see you’ve been left on read. “Just ignore him,” Liz says, handing you a shot. “Drinks are here!” You force a smile, trying to shake off the anxiety while your mind races with thoughts of what he might be thinking.

You throw back another shot. Screw it, you’re already out; you might as well get turnt up and deal with Jaemin tomorrow. You make your way back to the dance floor, determined to forget about him for the night. Mia and Liz dance together, while you dance with Chae. You belt out the lyrics to the song, hyping each other up, and before you know it, you’re not even trying to push thoughts of Jaemin away—they’ve completely slipped your mind.

After a while, Chae motions to you, leaning down to shout above the music. “I need to use the bathroom!” she yells.

“Okay, I’ll go with you!” you reply, waving at Liz and Mia to catch their attention. You mouth "bathroom,” and they nod in understanding, giving you the thumbs up as you weave through the crowd. Following Chae into the stall, you pull out your phone and check for messages as she takes care of business.

[12:00] Baby, are you alright?

[12:30] Wya?

You groan, and Chae looks up at you as she flushes the toilet. You exit the stall and set your phone down to wash your hands, Chae doing the same beside you.

“He’s texting again?” she asks with a teasing smile.

You dry your hands, grabbing your phone as you think about how to respond on your way out of the bathroom.

“Yeah,” you manage to say, letting the words hang in the air as you step back out onto the loud dance floor. You bump into a few people, too distracted by your phone screen to pay attention to where you’re going as you try to formulate a response.

[12:40] I’m at home, about to lay down though. Im really tired gn.

You hesitate hitting send, wondering if you’re being too dismissive or if he’ll just worry more. But you’re too overwhelmed to care right now—after all, the music is pulsing, and the night is still young.

You hit send, and the message is instantly marked as read. You see the three dots appear, indicating that he’s typing.

…

Pause

…

[12:41] Turn around.

You suck in a breath and freeze. Your friends notice your sudden stillness, concern flickering across their faces as their eyes trail up behind you, mouths dropping open in surprise.

“Go, go, go!” Liz yells at Mia and Chae, pushing them through the crowd to give you some space, leaving you to face Jaemin alone.

You brace yourself and turn around slowly. Just as you suspected, Jaemin stands towering over you in the packed club. “Heeyy,” you coo, attempting to lighten the tension.

He doesn’t look amused. In fact, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, tousled hair and all.

“I thought you were at the house?” he asks, tilting his head with heavy sarcasm.

“Damn, I forgot… I forgot I was at the club and not at home,” you say with a nervous smile, trying to play it off.

“So you think this is a game?” He nods his head, and a humorless laugh escapes his lips. "That's fine but go say bye to your little friends.”

You curse under your breath and turn away from him. Spotting Mia, Chae, and Liz watching the encounter from a few feet away, you push through the crowd, ready to let them have it.

“This is all your fault!” You swat at them, frustration bubbling over.

“Ow!” Mia cries as you slap her arm, feigning injury. Chae and Liz are laughing as you hit them next.

“Your ass is grass next time I see y’all,” you glare at them, eyes narrowing as you try to hold back laughter despite the absurdity of the situation.

With one last look at your friends, you turn back toward Jaemin, who’s still standing in the same spot, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face.

As you approach, he leans down slightly so only you can hear, his voice low, “Just wait until we get home.”

A shiver runs down your spine, equal parts excitement and dread. You frown but nod your head, knowing you were going to be in so much trouble. Jaemin pulls you along until you're outside, opening the passenger side door for you. Once you’re settled inside, he reaches over and buckles you in, a gesture that feels oddly affectionate amidst the tension. He shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side, the silence stretching between you as he grips the steering wheel tightly. You can see his knuckles turning white, a clear indication that he’s still upset.

The ride home is uneventful, your mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You finally arrive at your apartment, and before you can say anything, he gets out and slams the car door shut. He strides over to your side and opens the door, grabbing your purse as he helps you out.

“Jaem, we just wanted a girls' night out! I’m sorry; don’t be mad,” you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible as you follow him up the steps to your apartment.

He doesn’t respond, and you roll your eyes, watching him dig in the bottom of your bag for your keys. He finds them and unlocks the door with a swift motion.

You step inside, almost relieved to be back in the familiarity of your home. But just as you’re about to take off your heels, he stops you with a firm tone. “Nuh uh, heels stay on, baby. Bedroom. Now.”

“But I said I’m sorry,” you whine, knowing full well what that tone means. You’re not sure if you’re ready for whatever punishment he has in store.

“Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?” He replies, his voice low and serious.

Feeling a rush of apprehension, you straighten up and tread towards the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as you wait for him. You can hear him close the door behind him before he stands between your legs, towering over you. You look up at him, giving your best puppy dog eyes, hoping to soften his mood a little.

Jaemin’s expression is still firm. “You think that’s gonna work on me?” he asks, lowering his voice even further. He grips your cheeks and holds your gaze. “You know liars get punished, right?” he asks and you nod your head.

“Do you deserve to get punished tonight?” He watches you and you nod your head again, your eyes beginning to water under the weight of his words.

“Don’t start crying now, baby. I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says, his tone laced with a mix of teasing and seriousness as he leans down to kiss the tears that have stained your cheeks.

He releases your face, pulling you to your feet before taking your place on the bed. “Bend over,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Your heart races as you comply, laying across his lap with your short dress riding up to expose your bare bottom. It’s just a thong underneath, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“When I asked you where you were, what did you say?” He asks, punctuating his words with a sharp slap to your ass.

“Home,” you sniffle, the sting of his hand making you wince.

“Where were you instead?” He smacks the other cheek, the sharpness sending a rush of heat coursing through you.

“At the club,” you whimper, the reality of the situation hitting you hard.

“Why don’t I like you going alone?” He asks, his voice steady but firm, leaving you to ponder your previous choices.

“But I wasn’t alone, my fri—” you start to explain, but he interrupts you with a quick series of three sharp smacks against your ass, each one leaving a burning sensation that contrasts with the fluttering excitement in your stomach.

“Don’t fucking talk back,” he growls, pulling your hair back gently but firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “Do I need to put that mouth to better use? Huh?”

“No, Nana,” you manage to reply, the nickname slipping out instinctively, a soft plea.

“That’s what I thought. Now answer my question,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

“Because it’s dangerous to go alone,” you respond quickly.

“Now count,” he instructs

He strikes you twenty times, ten on each cheek. He soothes your skin between hits, a stark contrast to the sharp sting. You count every single one.

“That’s my good girl. You knew better than that, yeah?” he says, his voice dripping with approval.

“Yes, sir,” you nod.

Once he’s satisfied, he helps you to your feet and instructs you to get in the bed. You sit awkwardly, the fabric of the sheets tangling with your heels, but you comply without hesitation. Jaemin remains at the foot of the bed, and you can’t help but watch as he strips himself down. Your breath catches in your throat as he strokes himself, his other hand gliding down his chest. You feel an intense desire to reach out, to bite into the skin of his pecs and to mark him as yours.

“Please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you plead, your voice soft, desperation lacing your words. You knew he wasn’t done punishing you.

“Turn over, hands behind your back,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

You pout at the prospect of him taking you from behind. You loved watching him fuck you; you loved the intimacy of Missonary even though you loved the fact you could feel him in your guts when he hit it from the back. Even so, you do as you are told and you feel the mattress dip from his weight. Once he gets his hands on you, he's unzipping your dress and pulling it off. He undresses you until your just in your thong and high heels. His eyes rake over your body before he lets out a needy groan. He pulls your thong to the side and lines himself up with your entrance before he pushes in. You moan at the stretch and he uses one hand to hold your hands behind your back as the other tangles in your hair. Your makeup is sure to have smeared against the sheets as he pushes your head into the mattress as he fucks you.

“Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” He asks you. “You get fucked like a slut”

His hips drive into you again and again. He was deep and you loved every second of it. The way his hips slammed into you had your eyes rolling and thighs clenching. When you try to close your legs, he uses his knee to kick them back open. You wanted to touch him or atleast dig your fingers into the covers to hold on to something as he fucks some sense into you. You could feel how upset he was; he hated arguing and yelling; he was the type to fuck and make up; take out any frustrations on your greedy cunt and talk after.

You loved it

He lets go of your arms and pushes your back down into a deeper arc and you can finally grip the sheets. You could feel your thighs tremble and each time they slipped down the mattress or your legs threatened to give out, Jaemin was gripping your hips and pulling you up again to meet his thrusts.

His grunts turn to moans and they grow in pitch and you can tell he's at his limit. Usually at times like this he would slow down his pace to last longer or rub your clit to get you there but today you were his to use.

“Bad girls don't get to cum,” he says breathlessly.

After a few more deep thrusts, he's pulling out of you and coming all over your back. You look over your shoulder at him, makeup smeared and cheeks tear-stained. He coos and laughs at you as he leans down to kiss your lips.

“Stay right here; I'll be right back,” he says before leaving another kiss against your cheek.

He steps into the bathroom and emerges with a warm wet towel. As he gently cleans you up and removes your makeup with soft wipes, he works deftly to slip off the high heels that have been pinching your feet. Once he’s finished, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle against him. He starts to play with your fingers,

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. You know I would never hurt you, right?” you say, searching his eyes for a sign that he understands the gravity of your words. Your heart races, hoping he can see just how honest you’re being.

“Well, let’s talk about it in the morning, okay, baby?” He replies, his voice warm and soothing.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he responds.

As his embrace fosters a sense of safety, your worries begin to melt away. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you find comfort in the rhythm of his breathing before drifting into sleep.