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averagewriter-inthedark · 5 months ago

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The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Imagine

Set during the events of Twilight (2008)

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 3.5k

requested 📥 yes/no

Premise: When Edward introduces Bella to his family after weeks of avoiding the inevitable, there was no telling how it was going to go down. Of course, what does one expect when they bring their girlfriend over for the first time…. except it's to a family of animal blood-sucking vampires who's lives each deserve a biography of their own. Bella felt the pressure of making a great impression, but the nerves seemed to heighten in regard to meeting the woman responsible for raising Edward throughout his undead life. The woman whose soul was bonded to none other than the Cullen patriarch.

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

Over a hundred years walking the Earth and Edward still experienced the universal feeling of cringe and embarrassment. This time, at the hands of none other than his family as he introduced him to the girl who’d captured his undead heart and made it hard for Edward to stay away.

“Alright, um,” he swallowed, placing a gentle hand on Bella’s back to nudge her in the direction of the staircase. Away from the prying eyes of his siblings and Carlisle after Alice had to say, ‘Oh, you do smell good,’ and Jasper was literally fighting for his life to keep it together. “Where’s Y/n?”

“In her studio,” Carlisle replied with a smile, the mention of his wife bringing a warmth to his chest. “She’s working on a project and can definitely use a break. She’s been excited to meet Bella since you mentioned bringing her over.”

Bella blushed, the nerves resurfacing at meeting another member of the Cullen family. The matriarch at that. Edward’s adoptive mother and Carlisle’s wife.

“Thanks,” Edward turned on his heel, leading Bella in the opposite direction. Mumbling a short goodbye, she followed the vampire down the corridor, past the staircase and a living space before stopping in front of a wooden door.

Before he knocked, Edward put a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, “Calm down,” his teeth sparkled against the light, eyes teasing. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“Sorry,” she flushed again, cursing at herself. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous to meet Y/n. More so than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Edward spoke so highly of her. Maybe it was because she saw the way Carlisle lit up at the mere mention of her name. Or how the townspeople praised Y/n, even if they only had one interaction.

Edward went to knock, but this time was interrupted by a voice calling out from the other side, “Come in!” Smiling, he pushed open the door, revealing a large room in what only could be described as an organized disarray.

Bella’s jaw slightly dropped, taking in the scene before her. Eyes first darting to the high ceilings with a drop-down chandelier. Though it wasn’t on, thanks to the natural light provided by the left side of the room with floor to ceiling windows where a wall should’ve been. A beautiful, perfect view of the forest surrounding the home.

The walls were painted a rusted burnt red, the kind you see in art museums. Floors made of the finest dark wood, with one area covered by plastic reserved for protecting it by the paint cans laying on top, beside an easel holding a large canvas. A very large, vintage clock took the center of the wall connected to the window, surrounded by pieces ranging from old signs to shelves holding books and plants.

On the main wall parallel to the windows, a map of the world hung, flanked by art pieces. Portraits, landscape. Various mediums of pencil, oils, and acrylic. A phone straight from the 1930s mounted above a small table covered by messy stacks of paper. Bella’s eyes drew to a woven basket that came probably to her waist, filled with pieces of rolled parchment. A few laid on the ground. A foot away from it was a cart holding art supplies.

Finally, Bella’s gaze landed on the figure in the center of the room. Y/n sat on a wooden stool, her posture perfect, hand scribbling across a large piece of parchment placed on the wooden desk facing the windows. The desk was the type that propped up, a lamp attached to the corner, and side table. Something an artist or engineer invested in.

“I thought I heard the raging pump of a heartbeat approaching.” Bella squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, letting out a small groan. Opening them when she heard the skid of the stool against the floor.

“Y/n,” Edward scolded, tone playful.

“Apologies, I couldn’t help myself,” Y/n chuckled, approaching the two with a wide smile. Bella held her breath, admiring the woman before her. Alice may have been the fashion girlie of the family, but there was no denying who she must’ve gotten it from.

Y/n made even the simplest of clothing look ethereal. White blouse tucked into beige trousers, brown belt with hints of gold, paired with stunning white heeled boots. The necklaces she wore were layered, the longest of which had several charms making them clink together, bracelets covering her wrists, three rings on each hand, and gold hoops. A multicolor scarf consisting of warm tones like red, orange, and yellow tied around her hair. Then of course, her eyes were melting gold.

She was the picture of an artist.

Upon closer inspection, Bella had to hold back a whistle at the ring reserved for her left ring finger. Carlisle sure had taste and made sure his lady got what she deserved. That was no ring. That was a rock.

“You must be the famous Bella,” Y/n’s hand shot out, Bella hesitating a moment before taking it. Y/n’s handshake was soft yet firm at the same time. Bringing a chill to Bella as their skin met. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you,” letting go of her hand, Y/n brought both of hers up to make a gesture. “I have been begging Edward to bring you around for weeks. I don’t know why it’s taken him so long,” a playful glare was directed at him.

Edward rolled his eyes, then put an arm around Bella. “Bella, this is Y/n. My mother for all intents and purposes. Artist, architect, and occasional therapist to all of us emotionally stunted immortal teenagers.”

“You said it, not me,” Y/n smirked, hands raised again.

Bella laughed, comforted by Edwards touch as she regarded Y/n. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/n. Edward talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, correct?”

“Of course,” Bella assured, nudging Edward who had scoffed. “He mentioned you designed this house--it’s absolutely beautiful. And this--,” motioning to the space, Bella was again in awe of Y/n’s studio. It’s like she was walking through an exhibit in the Louvre. “Wow.”

“When I made the blueprints for this house, I wanted everyone to have a place--plus everyone was vocal about what they wanted,” she teases with a grin. “Carlisle has his study, Alice her closets, Rosalie wished for a garage, Jasper desired a library, Emmett a game room, Edward got his music room. And me,” a hand waves to the room with pride. “My studio.”

Bella raised an intrigued brow, aimed at Edward, “you have a music room?”

Had he been human, Edward would have blushed. He brushed it off with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s just where I keep a few instruments. I’ll show you as we go through the house.”

“A few,” Y/n lightly scoffed, earning a small glare from the boy.

“Carlisle said you’re working on a project,” he changed the subject, nudging his head toward the desk. Catching sight of the blueprints that were in the early draft stages.

“The high school plans to renovate the library, so they’ve asked me to go over some plans and designs. They were pleased with my work for the gym last year.”

Edward turns to Bella, “Y/n has the magic touch for designing and constructing. And because we’ve had the time to redo college over and over again….” They share a laugh, “she’s got degrees in art, engineering, design, and business on top of her architecture education.”

The woman simply shrugs, “I like to keep busy. Who wouldn't want to take advantage of obtaining all the world’s knowledge when you have eternity.” If she saw the pointed look Edward was giving her, Y/n ignored it.

“Anyway,” He sighed, returning his attention to Bella, “The town comes to her for consultations. And, in most cases than often, she designs and oversees the build.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Bella awed, past Edward’s shoulder she spotted the white construction worker's hat. Propped beside a coat hanger possessing a pair of overalls, scarves, and painters' boots. “Did you-,” her finger pointed to the display of artwork, “paint all those?”

“Several, yes,” Y/n motioned them to follow her, moving closer to the wall. “This one you might have guessed is the view of the forest from this room. The first one I did when we moved here. But not all are recent, some I did in the 90s--,” she pointed to a canvas framed with gold trimming near the top. Depicting an image of inside a medical tent, “That one is from when I volunteered for the Army Nurses Corps.”

Bella’s eyes bulged, glancing between Y/n and Edward. “You--you served during the War?”

Y/n nodded, expression now solemn, “First World War. We were living in Virginia at the time and therefore injured soldiers coming back from Europe docked at the bases there first. Carlisle was the trauma surgeon, and I was a nurse.” Her boots echoed against the wood as they strolled down. “We stayed there the duration of the war before settling in Chicago….”

“How long before he wakes up?”

“Not long,” Carlisle kept his eyes on the unconscious boy while his wife paced behind him. Had they been able to sweat they would’ve been drenched. “The venom transferred from his neck. The closest I could get to his heart--it should take less than a day.”

Y/n ran a hand through her neatly styled hair in distress. They’d only been in Chicago a few months. Arriving when the War ended and immediately joining the effort to combat the Spanish Influenza spreading through the population. With their current predicament, there was no way they could stay.

Ripping the nurses cap off, she asked, “What’s our next move then? We can’t stay here. This city is an endless potluck of people, and we don’t know how strong his urges will be,” she stopped pacing, coming beside her husband with a pleading gaze. “I know you said his parents are dead, but that doesn't mean he may not have family who’ll come looking for him. What kind of people are we to rip him from the ones who love him?” Upon the look she received, Y/n dropped her head, “Unless you mean to fake his death.”

Carlisle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “The boy had the influenza. They saw his condition--it was deteriorating. They’ll believe it took him in the night and his body was sent to the incinerators. Just like the others.”

Y/n sniffed, eyes welling with unshed tears. “I know, but…” she trailed off, “He’s a kid, Carlisle. We agreed that when it came time for us to save someone from death, it would not mean robbing them of their life--.”

“He was dying, Y/n,” his tone was firm, yet gentle. “I promised his mother we’d look after him.” Eyes flicker to Edward, then back to Y/n. While Carlisle hated himself for what he’d done, there was no going back now. “He’s our responsibility now. We’ve to teach him the ways of this life and make sure he copes with it. Not succumb to the darkness like we did.”

Another sound left her, Y/n taking a moment to process before nodding. “Okay,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady. “We take this day-by-day.”

“Day-by-day.”

“That’s when Edward….” Bella trailed, biting her lip when she realized it wasn’t the best idea to bring it up. Yet, she was surprised both the vampires nodded, understanding her implication. Instead, she said, “He mentioned you’ve been with Carlisle the longest….”

Like earlier with the doctor, Y/n visibly brightened at each time his name was said. “Will be two hundred years this fall.”

“Two--two hundred??” The human spluttered. Edward had failed to tell her that information. Only saying the two had been together long before Carlisle saved him.

Chuckling at Bella’s reaction, Y/n tucked a piece of stray hair back in its place. “The vampire who bit me didn’t stick around. Abandoning me. A few days later of endless wonder and unable to control my newfound appetite, Carlisle found me.” Her smile was so wide, bright white teeth bouncing off light. “It’s been quite a life ever since.”

They spent the next few minutes learning about the history of each painting. From the oil masterpiece of the New York Skyline to the charcoal portrait of Joan of Arc. Bella took time to admire the watercolor image of Carlisle. Donned in his white coat, hair and posture perfect.

“Ah yes,” Y/n hummed, beaming up at the canvas. “My personal favorite. Though I’m a little biased given the muse of this piece happens to be the muse of my soul.”

“Stay still.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not,” Y/n berated, dipping the brush back into the golden color before continuing to paint Carlisle’s hair. “I know this is time consuming, darling, but it’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“In my defense,” his hand raised, quickly putting it back in his lap when she groaned, “I’ve never technically sat for a portrait. The ones from Volterra were done while I wasn’t aware they were being painted.” A grimace took his features, remembering his time with the Volturi. “Aro preferred moments to be captured as they were happening in real time.”

Y/n threw him a look, shaking her head in the process. “Yeah, he seems like the type.”

“First and last time he got to play model,” she laughed at the memory. “Thanks to the creation of the camera I could develop a photograph and wallah!” her hands made a gesture, “A still image to use as reference. And now with cell phones….I don’t even have to put in the work to develop the photo. It’s right there!”

Initially Bella found her reaction to a camera phone a little odd. But then remembered Y/n was a 200+ year old vampire and literally witnessed the development and advancement of technology.

“But I don’t always create,” Y/n winked, stopping in front of a stunning work of a lily pond. “Sometimes I collect.”

Stepping closer, Bella inspected the art, finger on her lip as her brows furrowed in concentration. She’d seen it before. The familiarity of it was driving her brain into overdrive. Then it hit her, breath hitching, “Is that…A Monet?” Her confirmation nod made Bella nearly choke on her saliva. “How--?”

“Being alive 226 years and getting the privilege of traveling anywhere means I’ve had the pleasure of meeting interesting people,” her smirk was the type a movie villain showed that made the audience fall in love with them and brush away the fact they were a villain. A captivating sight. “One of those people happened to be Claude Monet during our time in France. Our shared love for art and nature brought a great friendship. I was actually with him when he painted this,” she casually said, aware of Bella’s astonished reaction despite her eyes trained on the canvas. “Unfortunately, Carlisle and I left before I got to see him finish. After he died several of his paintings went to museums or auctioned off. I made sure to acquire this one--took me about three years to find.”

After a moment of gawking, Bella gathered herself and moved onto the next piece. It really felt like they were in an art museum. Soon they came to the end of the gallery.

“You’re incredibly talented,” Bella praised, unable to take her attention off the marble sculpture enclosed in a glass case by the small bookshelf.

“Thank you. It’s nice to finally have someone to show this all too. Instead of just me admiring it daily.” Y/n put her hands in pockets, “Now I hate to kick you out, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline to beat,” Y/n led them to the door, “and I’ll let you get back to your tour of the house. It was lovely to meet you, Bella, and please don’t be a stranger. Our door is always open for you.”

“I really appreciate it,” Bella smiled, standing beside Edward in the doorway, “It was great meeting you too.” A wave of a goodbye and promise to visit again, Y/n watched Edward escort his girlfriend up the staircase to the second floor. Leaning against the side, Y/n touched a finger to her lips, not bothering to hide the giant grin surfacing.

“I know that look.”

Despite speaking after Bella and Edward disappeared, Y/n felt Carlisle’s presence the second he breached the corridor. Not to mention the tingling sensation at the base of her spine.

Slowly turning to face him, her smile widened, and Carlisle saw the way her golden hues sparkled when he approached. “And what exactly is that look?”

“The one where you’re overcome with happiness unable to be measured with how much it consumes you.”

Hands took hold of her shoulders, gently brushing down until they reached her own, Y/n leaning into his touch, voice teasing, “What mother would I be to not be overjoyed for her son and the wonderful girlfriend he’s brought home?”

Carlisle chuckled, tilting his head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The floral aroma of her Marc Jacobs perfume amplified her already sweet scent. Oh, how addicted he was to her scent. It was like walking through a garden of the most beautiful flowers on Earth.

“You didn’t embarrass him, did you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, tapping his chest to scold him, “Not much more than you lot. He was practically dragging Bella out of the kitchen.” Carlisle raised his hands in defense, making her raise a brow.

“That was all the kids. I’m innocent, my dear, you must believe me.”

She tsked, “Well, at least you didn’t scare the poor girl like Rosalie and Jasper. And as much as I love Alice’s excitement, you might want to tell her to take it down a notch,” Y/n made a face, “I thought we all agreed last night not to bring up Bella’s scent.”

She was met with a sigh, her sculptured-God of a husband dropping his head onto her shoulder in defeat. “What was I supposed to do? You left me to fend for myself.”

Laughing, Y/n reached her arms around his shoulders, encasing him in an embrace to which he greatly accepted. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you forgive me? I promise to find you the finest stag in all of Washington for you to feast upon.” Instantly his head shot up, moving it so their noses brushed against each other.

“That’ll do.” Their lips met, igniting fireworks throughout their bodies as it always had for 200 years. Never once losing the feeling.

They’d seen everything in the course of their century's long life. Several wars. Epidemics. The fall of countries and rise of new ones. Medicine advancing, technology overtaking man. The race to space and the rebirth of the Olympic Games.

Met people who’d changed the world. Witnessed humanity evolve--and sometimes wondered how the hell it could be so stupid. But overall, they were the stagnant figures in their plane of existence. Time moving, they remained still.

And yet, somehow, they were able to find a family after all.

When they pulled apart, their expressions of love remained. “God,” she hummed, “That never gets old.”

“Just like the first time?” He chafed, gold eyes glimmering.

Y/n pretending to think, lips pouting, “Less nervous,” a squeal escaped her at the feeling of his fingers tickling her ribcage. Shoving him away, the woman chided, “Get back to the hospital old man. There are patients to be seen, and I have a deadline to finish.” The gasp that left him made her grin.

“Old?! I’ll have you know that if I’m old then that means you are---.”

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” her finger pointed at his chest, “otherwise you’re sleeping on the couch.” Carlisle smirked, entering her personal space once again.

“I can’t sleep. Neither can you.”

“Damn,” she exhaled, feigning defeat when really, she was becoming more invested with their little game. “You’re right.” Then her eyes turned dark, sinister. Face consorting to a look that made Carlisle shudder.

A look he’d seen hundreds of times, and not once did not bring a chill to his already cold body. Enough to bring his heart back to life. Enough to send the frozen blood down to his spine.

“Guess we’ll have to find another way to pass the time.”

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen fanfiction #carlisle cullen fluff #twilight fluff #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #edward cullen x reader #bella swan imagine #Spotify

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milla-frenchy · 6 months ago

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Push it

3k4 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you have a secret “relationship” with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you can’t resist the idea to provoke him a little

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel late 40s), Joel is a grumpy, possessive, jealous man, reader is a brat. Grinding, dry humping, oral (f/m), pussy slapping, spanking, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, cum eating, squirting, piv, creampie

a/n: so, this is my first dbf!Joel fic. Thank you anon, for your ask ❤️ I hope you'll like it 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing baby 💕🫶

dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The fic is titled after “Push it” by Garbage

Joel was looking at you walking back and forth from the dining room and the kitchen, swaying your hips and teasing him in your short dress. And if your father had been paying any attention to him instead of the game on TV, he would have noticed the way Joel was biting his upper lip or rubbing his hands together. Joel was nervous, and the more nervous he got, the more you teased him.

“Damn brat,” Joel muttered under his breath.

“What?” your father asked.

“Nothing,” he replied and then sighed. “Just said that player really sucks, that’s all.”

“I think he’s hot,” you said cheerfully. “How old is he?”

“A little too old for you to be interested, honey. Over 30 years old.”

You scoffed at your father’s words, and you were pretty sure you heard “jesus” coming out of Joel’s mouth.

You spent the rest of the match pulling down your neckline to expose more of your cleavage or hiking your dress up your thighs. You were careful to do it in a way that your father wouldn’t consider inappropriate if he ever looked at you at some point, but he was captivated by the game.

Your and Joel’s gazes met often and he gave you a few serious warning stares that you ignored shamelessly. You didn’t even try to hide your satisfaction each time he had to readjust his jeans.

Once the match was over, you brought their empty beer bottles back to the kitchen, and Joel's firm hand closed around your arm as soon as you were there.

“The hell you doin’?” he grumbled.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Cut the crap, sweetheart,” he hissed through his teeth. “Acting like a damn tease, makin’ me hard during the game? In front of your father, goddamn it! Could even see you’re wearing the black lingerie.”

“Ooooh… yeah, your favorite. Too bad you made it very clear the last time you filled me up- we fuck just for fun, right? So let me have fun and act as I please in my father's house. And let go of me.”

But he squeezed harder. “Keep it down,” he growled. “And that ain’t what I said.”

“Whatever. Next time you see me, I may be with my boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” His nostrils flared and you loved the sight.

“The one I’m probably gonna meet tonight, when I go out with my friends. The one who’ll appreciate my lingerie. Let go of me,” you repeated, yanking yourself free.

You headed towards the kitchen door, and after glancing behind, you saw him leaning against the counter. Annoyed, dark eyes, eyebrows furrowed, arm muscles stretching his black t-shirt. Irritation suited him well, he was even more handsome than usual. You tried to ignore the racing of your heart as you stepped back into the dining room.

“Can you help me with the internet at home?" he asked you in front of your father. “Connection ain't working.”

“I’m sorry, Joel, I can’t right now. I have to get ready, I’m going out tonight and my friends are picking me up in an hour.”

“Jesus, your manners?!” your father replied as if you had said the most impolite thing in the world. “Go help Joel. Your friends can wait a few minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, careful so that only Joel could see you. He smirked in a way that was so feline that you felt yourself dripping. He walked out towards his house, not checking if you were following him. He knew you were.

Once home he sat down on his couch, resting his right arm on the backrest.

“What's the problem with the internet?”

“Ain't got any problems. Come here,” he said, patting his thighs.

“What makes you think I wanna sit on your lap?”

“Pussy's dripping. Can smell it from here.”

You rolled your eyes but you walked over to him and straddled him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He grabbed your hips tightly and positioned you how he exactly wanted you, his stiff shaft in his jeans against your folds covered only by your black panties. Your eyes sparkled when you felt his manhood. His were fixed on yours. Full of confidence, the eyes of a mature man, aware of his power of seduction over you.

“Stop being a brat and grind on me. I know you need it bad.”

You rolled your hips slowly, grinding against his hard cock. His hands firmly laid on your hips, but letting you lead the pace. His jeans almost hurt your inner thighs but you needed that friction against your soaked pussy. That sweet pain, the one that helps to feel better, like an itch that can be relieved only when you scratch it a little. He pulled your neckline down roughly, cupping your breasts in his palms before taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking it.

“Joel…,” you whimpered.

“Keep humping me, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that. She needs it, uh?”

He took your nipple back in his mouth, licking and then nibbling on it lightly, pressing on your shoulders to feel you more.

“Use me. Use me to get off,” he said, the need in his voice showing you how much he loved feeling you rub yourself against him. You kept rolling your hips, moaning “Joel, Joel…,” your whimpers getting louder and louder, until you breathed out “it’s good, so good, I’m gonna come,” just before you came against him, whining into his neck, trembling. Your desire wetting your panties even more and flowing onto his jeans.

You let your forehead rest against him, panting into his skin that you kissed as he stroked your back, before you pulled back and faced his dark eyes.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you said, kneeling down and unzipping his jeans.

“Yeah? Gonna help me with that after your little game? That's what you wanted, uh? Wanted me to get fuckin’ hard, while I couldn't do anything about it.”

You nodded, there was no more brat attitude left in you, just eagerness as you pulled his cock out gently, and watched his weeping, red tip. You licked your lips and spread the precum around his slit with your thumb. You sucked him the way he liked, lingering on his tip for a long time, licking, sucking. Each time, you wanted to give him the sloppiest head, so that he wouldn’t think about anyone else. Wouldn’t want anyone else.

When you took his length in your mouth, getting used to its thickness, pressing your tongue against his quivering skin, you felt him shiver. Until he pressed his cock against the back of your throat, and finally put his hands on your head. You loved feeling his underlying power, his pressure on your temples.

“Don’t move,” he said in a low voice, his length buried in your hot throat. You felt his tip twitch. Finally he started to thrust, fucking your mouth and your throat, using you as a fuck hole.

The mouth of his best friend’s daughter. He didn’t think about it anymore, when he was buried in one of your three holes. His remorse was forgotten. He didn’t care what could happen next, where this relationship or whatever it was, would take both of you. Didn't think about the consequences anymore. Only your warmth, your tightness welcoming his cock, mattered.

His hands firmly gripping your head, he thrusted in, and began fucking your mouth relentlessly. From the first time he’d fucked you, you noticed how different he was from your previous boyfriends. He loved when you teased him. He loved being seated on his couch, manspreading, while you were dancing lasciviously in front of him, waiting for him to break and reach out to you. But sometimes, often, you were the one breaking first.

When you danced like that, his gaze was full of promise. Promise to fuck you so well you’d forget your own name when he was done with you.

Guys of your age didn’t have that patience.

He loved to make you come several times before spilling his cum. Sometimes he made you come again after, with his tongue or fingers, leaving you breathless and cock dumb.

Your ex boyfriends usually didn’t care.

But he cared.

You let him use your mouth, let him move your head back and forth. Let him bury himself in the back of your throat. You learned not to gag anymore, when he fucked it. He trained you to do it.

His hands froze on your temples, and you knew he was about to shoot hot ropes of cum that would hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come… swallow all of it, sweetheart. Like a good girl, just like I taught you.”

His cum spurted out, and drop by drop, you swallowed it all. Then you carefully cleaned his shaft, his tip, until he pulled out. He put his cock back in his pants, and zipped them.

“You should go, you’re gonna be late.”

“Do you have something to tell me, Joel?”

“Good evening?” He sighed when he saw your eyes, a little blurry, and added “and keep those wet panties on. I want you to remember how you came humping me, while you’re out with your friends.”

You didn’t try to meet his gaze when you heard his words, and you left.

Babe? Babe!” You heard your friend’s voice in the distance. You were so lost in your thoughts. Always the same. Joel.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You spread your hands in front of you, as if to mean you had no idea what she was talking about.

“We’re supposed to have fun and you seem… somewhere else. What’s on your mind, babe?”

You answered that everything was fine, and tried to push Joel out of your thoughts. Joel who had told you that you weren’t a couple, that you didn’t have a relationship because your father, other people couldn’t know. That this thing between you was a bonus that you were giving each other. But that there couldn’t be more.

So when a guy of your age approached you and asked you to dance, you didn’t say no. When he offered you a drink and asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom of the bar, you didn’t say no either. Sat on the bathroom sink, you let him eat you out.

And you only thought about Joel who always did it so perfectly, knew when to lick lightly, when to suck on your clit, knew how to fill you with two of his fingers. You had to think about him, the whole time that guy was eating you out. You had to think about Joel’s beard and mustache, scratching tenderly or roughly against your sensitive skin.

It was the only way for you to come.

When you left the bathroom, Joel was the first person you saw. Dark stare. Then darker than ever, when his gaze fell on the man who walked out of the room right after you. You froze before heading to your table, but he grabbed your arm before you sat down.

“I’m taking you back home. Now.”

“Are you mad? I come home whenever I want.”

“Wow wow! What’s going on? Are you her dad?” Joel looked at this man whose name you didn't even know, from his full height, fists clenched. Joel looked at him as if he wanted to throw him to the ground, making him take a step back.

“No I ain’t her dad, luckily for you”, he growled. He turned to you before adding “I said, now.”

You followed him, like a docile dog. Turned on by his jealousy and attitude.

“Get in the damn car,” he grumbled. He started driving, silent, hands clenching the wheel until his knuckles were white.

“Joel…”

“Don’t,” he rambled. “Don’t say a word.”

You sank into the seat, waiting for him to drop you off at your place. But he pulled into his driveway.

“Follow me,” he said, without waiting for you.

When you joined him at his house, his hands were on his hips, his gaze turned towards the ground.

“You fucked him?” he asked in a low voice.

“No. No I didn't.”

“He fucked you?”

“No, damn… He didn't fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, in a way that was clear- he didn't believe a word you were telling him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Don't lie to me. You got that “just fucked” face.”

“Damn, I… He went down on me, that's all.”

“You let him go down on you? On that pussy?”

If you didn't know him, his tone might have seemed detached. But you had known him for a long time, and the surprise mixed with jealousy didn't escape you. Actually, it was even more than a surprise. Almost a shock.

You even felt like he was holding back from saying “my pussy.” But he had been clear about you two. Fun.

“Why do you care? You don’t want anything serious.”

“He ate you with your wet panties on? He pushed them to the side?” You nodded shyly, almost embarrassed.

“Fuck, come here,” he said, grabbing you by the hips before pulling you back towards the couch, your feet dragging in an attempt to keep up with his pace.

He pushed you roughly to sit you down and knelt down in front of you. He pulled your dress up and practically ripped your panties off, and yanked your hips towards the edge of the couch.

“I think this pussy needs to remember who makes her come,” he growled, already pushing two fingers inside you. “You're fucking soaked. You came in his damn mouth?”

“Yes I… Fuck, Joel!” He was fingering your pussy quickly, as if he wanted to remove any memory of any man other than himself.

“Was he good at it?”

“Yeah, he was perfect. Made me come so quickly.”

He slapped your swollen clit and you whined, tears at the corner of your eyes.

“I said, don't lie to me,” he spat at you, stopping his fingers deep inside your pussy.

You lowered your head before answering.

“No, he wasn't good at it. Had to think about someone else to come. Had to think about you,” you whined. “Stop being mean to me, I didn't do anything wrong!”

“I need to remind you how this cunt needs to be eaten. Like the damn slut she belongs to.”

This wasn't the first time he'd degraded you. He'd noticed early on how receptive you were to it. And the way your pussy squeezed his fingers couldn't hide it, once again.

He settled between your thighs, lapping at your cunt still soaked with another man’s saliva, your pleasure and your desire for Joel.

He dove in like it was his last meal on earth, lapping, sucking, mixing his saliva with someone else's and he didn't care. Your hands tangled in his curls. Your orgasm was building and Joel stopped just before you exploded on his fingers and tongue.

“No Joel! Please, why did you stop?”

“I don't want another tongue on this cunt. Ya hear me?”

“But you said…” He slapped your clit again, making you whimper.

“Repeat it.”

“I… fuck, Joel! Jesus… You don't want another tongue on this cunt.”

“If I see you with anyone else again, if I hear about you with anyone else, I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days.”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers without you being able to control your body.

“Jesus Christ, you fuckin’ like it? You want to get punished over my knee like the dirty little brat you are?”

“I… no, I… fuck…”

“Pussy's drooling even more. Unbelievable…” He started to finger you again, slowly, and placed his thumb on your swollen and sensitive clit, making you whimper. “You were a good girl, with proper manners. And now… can't think straight since you took my fat cock, right?”

“I'm… fuck. I'm a good girl.”

“Really?” he smirked darkly. “Good girls don’t get their pussy eaten by a stranger in a damn bar.” He leaned down and licked a long stripe from your hole already filled with his fingers to your clit, before stopping again cruelly. “Good girls don’t make their man jealous,” he added before diving between your thighs, fingering you fast and so hard that his knuckles tapped against your entrance. His tongue focused on your clit, swirling around it perfectly.

“My… my man?”

He didn't answer, growling from the depths of your thighs, making you squirm on his fingers as he fingered you hard, until jets spurted out suddenly and wetted his face.

“Fuck yeah! that’s a good girl, squirting on my face, jesus, sweetheart…”

You were completely gone, not realizing that you were cumming on his fingers still buried inside you, until he replaced them with his tongue. He drank everything you gave him, greedy, eager. You kept squirming but his strong grip kept you seated on the couch.

When your jolts stopped, he grabbed your arm to lift you up and bent you over the dining room table. His hand tightened on the back of your neck, and he unzipped his jeans, lowering them mid-thigh with the other one, before sinking into you in one go, grunting like an animal.

He buried his fingers in the flesh of your hip, pumping into you. Hard, deep thrusts, growling “take it, just like that,” and you could only take it. Letting him feed on your needy pussy, on your low moans that he could barely hear, fucking you so hard that you were almost speechless except for the whimpers.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” He kept thrusting in, filling you like only he knew how.

“Harder, Joel. Harder, please,” you begged.

“Jesus…”

Clinging to the edge of the table, you tried to remain as still as possible despite his roughness that threw you forward with every thrust.

“Say my name”, he said in a needy voice. You didn’t hear him and he scoffed. “Too cock dumb to even hear me,” he growled before spanking your ass, hard, making you squeal.

“Joel!!!”

“Oh, you’re back? I said, say my fucking name.”

“J… Joel…”

“That’s right. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

A second spank landed on your already red skin.

“Say it again.”

“Damn, Joel?! Your pussy… my pussy’s yours, damnit…”

A third spank, even harder than the other ones. “Joel, what the fuck??” you whined.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, each time I spank you… don’t pretend you don’t like it, dirty fucking girl.”

You didn't answer. He was right, you liked it. He knew it and you knew it. You liked his strength, you liked that he used you. You liked being his.

“I’m gonna come. Gonna fill you up, fuck!”

He shot his cum deep in your pussy and didn't stop thrusting, pumping you full until you milked his cock.

Your hand against the wood of the table, you were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath as his heavy body pressed against yours.

“You said it was just for fun… What happened?” you murmured.

“Ain’t what I said. I said, your father can't know. The neighbors, your friends, can't know. But you… you gotta know. I don't share. Got it?”

“Yeah… got it.”

You smiled, feeling his breath against your neck, and his hand tightening on yours, on the wood of the table.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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pedgito · 23 days ago

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | Joel's itch to hunt has became a yearly tradition between you and him.

author's note | i had a very vague outline for this weeks ago that didn't feel solid enough but then i saw some gifs and had to collect myself, a huge hug to @gracieheartspedro for beta'ing this!

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson!joel, sex pollen (consenting), hunter/prey OR predator/prey (whichever you prefer), knives, joel intentionally hurts reader (consenting), mentions of scars, waterboarding adjacent (again, consenting), brat!reader, gratuitous smut (unprotected piv, oral, ect), creampies <3, cum feeding, some fluff at the end.

word count — 5k

“S’bout that time, baby.”

Joel isn’t even attempting to be subtle about it.

The itch came around the time the flowers were beginning to bloom and the overgrown foliage continued to make a home on earth, woven and wrapping around the cracks that have settled. It was always calmer too, oddly. Tommy had suggested Joel could take a few shifts hunting in the nearby woods for food—you know, scratch it. But, he didn’t understand the deeper implications and desires that Joel kept hidden away. Though, not from you.

He always had a habit of sneaking up on you in your home, quiet as a mouse you were, but even the slightest creak would give you away and Joel would come swooping in, stealing your heart right out of your chest as it stilled, relaxing as his warm, sweet musk consumed your entire being.

He always sought you out, treated you like prey.

Joel was a natural born hunter, a defender—of his territory, his things.

When you switched jobs halfway through your first year in Jackson, botany to patrol, the idea arises. And that was all it was, at first. Presenting Joel with a set of options as your connection with him grew, seeing the ease of conversation behind his hardened exterior.

He liked that you care, that you listened to him talking about his oddball interest without the return of a retching disgust, tongue peeking out of your mouth as your face scrunches up in aversion. Ellie had done it plenty of times, so instead, you ask questions.

Jackson had domesticated Joel back to his previous state, before the outbreak, with what little he’s told you about, he sounds like he wants to leave that man in the past. You understood him, born within a world of pure rage and hostility, fighting tooth and nail from the day you were born.

You were only a small child when the world fell and you barely remember anything from before outside of what you’ve learned from the elders around Jackson and Joel, who wasn’t nearly as old, but had still managed to live a full life and then some, his time split between both versions of this lifetime.

You had patrol together tomorrow, a full undisturbed weekend away.

He clinks your beer mischievously as his eyes glint with intrigue and a small smile tugs at his lips as he hides it behind the rim of his drink—it wasn’t a reminder, rather an auspicious warning.

–

In any other situation, you would hate this patrol spot.

It was big, too big—why Tommy insisted on keeping it within the route was beyond your understanding, but for Joel, it was perfect.

He’s already digging in your bag for the mauve-hued powder, smelling faintly of berries even with the plastic bag wrapped tightly around it. It was something you had stumbled upon with Ellie during one of your earlier patrols, always following close behind to her wandering, stumbling upon a thick brush outside a forgotten, decaying cabin.

A small plant, completely undisturbed.

Ellie almost consumed the plant out of curiosity, eyes growing wide as you slapped her hand away.

“You’re right—yeah, that’s…not a good idea.” She quickly corrected herself, entranced by the intoxicating smell as you carefully unroot the plant and tuck it away in your pack, hopefully that it would stay intact on the ride back or that Shimmer wouldn’t sniff through your bag before you had the chance to make it back.

“Joel would kill me if I let this kill you.”

“Ah, he’s not so bad.” Ellie excused lazily, “Give him a chance.”

That you did.

You snatch the bag from his hand and tuck it away in your pocket.

“Sign us in at least,” You reprimand him, flicking him in the chest before you direct him with a pointed finger over his shoulder. An old, weathered notebook sitting on the counter of the empty clinic, “sweep first—hunt later.”

You both check your respective sides, dead silent throughout, as most of spring usually was around Jackson. Occasionally a straggler would find a way inside, a bloater or clicker that had wandered too far from the herd, but it was completely quiet.

You had traveled all night, the auburn sky fading to blue as the sun rose in the east, the rays projecting through the large window of the second floor of the hospital, an office that was set up with two beds and a pile of supplies for whoever had patrol that month.

Joel’s stripped his jacket off already, yours following suit as you throw it over.

“You know the drill,” Joel announces, his palm curving around the back of your neck as his other hand reaches for the gun tucked into the holster at your thigh, placing it on the counter, “one knife, that’s it.”

“Same rules apply to you, big guy,” You retorted, reaching around his backside for the gun tucked into his waistband, placing it beside your own gun.

He offers over the hunting knife by the handle, his fingers pressing tight against the sharpened blade, eyebrows raised in anticipation as you look at it for a moment, a split-decision before you shake your head, pushing his hand away.

“C’mon baby, now you’re just makin’ it easy.”

You scoff lightly, leaning down to remove your shoes and socks as Joel chuckles lowly, catching onto your antics as you strip yourself down to the bare minimum clothing you needed without being entirely naked—a skin-tight tank that clung to your curves and a pair of shorts that rolled up your thighs, reducing the risk of your clothes snagging in harder to access crevices.

You reach for the treasured bag of special powder that Joel was so eager to consume.

It was an enhancement—a pollen from a special flower that you still hadn’t identified, crushed down into an herb that you traded under the table in Jackson for a high price. The first time you had introduced it to Joel, he was hesitant. But, giving it an hour or so to set in convinced him otherwise.

He could hear better, feel, sense—it was intimidating, the look in his blood-shot eyes every time he found you, teeth bared as they dug into your skin, rutting against you like he was in heat. Sex was the only thing that quelled the ache that it caused as a side effect, and Joel was insatiable.

It started slowly, the slow thump of your heart quickening as the effects settled within you. Then, the paranoia set in, the heightened state of existence, and slowly the urge of desire would settle in, growing and growing until it was nearly unbearable—eventually willing enough to claw off your own skin in an attempt to ease the ache.

It never got that bad, Joel wouldn’t allow it.

But, something about this batch felt potent.

You felt even more mischievous this time around, your third year of this little tradition and you were determined to make him work for it, drag it out until the final second, as the drug waned as neither of you could take it any longer, wanting to beat him at his own game.

“Like a mouse,” You tease, showcasing the near silent step of your feet against the floor as you lick your pointer and middle finger before dipping them into the bag, the powder sticking to your fingers as you press them to Joel’s tongue, his lips closing around the digits with an intense determination in his eyes, “let’s test out those instincts, old man.”

He mirrors your process, but wraps his free hand around your throat, forcing your chin up and mouth open as his fingers dip into your mouth and press down on your tongue, noticing the way his eyes are already dilated under the effect of the pollen, “I’ll leave a pretty one this time.”

A scar, he means.

Two already existing jagged lines on each side of your pelvic bone as he pressed the blade to your skin in dignification of his victory, soothing the wound with his tongue and lapping up the blood.

You hum, closing your eyes at the sweet taste as it warms your body.

“If you catch me,” You tease, a slight amusement to your tone as you toss your head back, fingers pressing harshly against the sides of your throat.

“Bold,” He compliments, “s’cute—you can’t hide from me, sweetheart. I’ll find you.”

–

He always gives you a head start, it was only fair.

The only downside to the pollen was the overstimulation of sound, paranoid with every creak of the building as the heat expanded the metal, faint footsteps without any idea where they were.

You weren’t a hunter, by any means. But, you knew how to hide.

For Joel, he enjoys the chase.

However, he likes to seek, too.

And he’s quiet, unsuspecting.

The first four hours are spent working your way through the second floor as you hide away in hidden crevices and evaded his approaching figure as he traverses from room to room, knowing he’s wandering around with only the knife you had denied yourself, twirling it in his grip as you whistled, paused for an eerily long time, then whistled again. He's had surveying from side to side, scanning.

Everything was making you jump, even the low hum of the wind outside.

There’s a brief moment as you escape to the first floor that Joel catches sight of your quickly fleeing figure, calling out your name in a voice that doesn’t sound entirely of his own. It was deep and guttural, like a growl. Animalistic and dark, stripped down to his primal instincts.

“C’mon, little mouse,” You can hear the knife pierce into the weakening drywall as you hide between a crevice underneath the stairs, moving to your stomach to crawl underneath and use the advantage of the shadows casted by the sun as he paces around the hall for a moment, “let’s see if you’ll squeal for me.”

His foot kicks through a closed door, his soft whistling continuing as he searched around and came up empty-handed, biding your time under the stairwell for an extended period of time, skin dampy and clammy as the heat crept in, clothes dirtied with dust and stained with sweat.

By the time you feel safe enough to leave, knowing how easy Joel could wait you out, it was already creeping into the evening and you had cursed yourself for being so stubborn and leaving your pack behind—hungry and thirsty, the throbbing ache at your core growing stronger as you squeezed your thighs together and escaped the hiding spot.

You stop, listening intently, the faint sound of footsteps below in the basement.

You knew better than to trap yourself down there with him, knowing how easy of a win that would be for him, hearing the faint tap of the knife as he calls for you.

“I know you’re here. I can smell ya,” You hear faintly, “Betcha she’s drippin’ wet, huh?”

You can picture the sight of him, hand grazing over the denim of his jeans as he pressed his palm against his growing erection for relief, a similar detriment to your own but with two entirely different tasks.

You’ve never tried leaving the building before, but the peak of the pollen was beginning to take hold, your mouth dry and begging, aware of the creek just a few minutes into the forest down the road—you were desperate.

So, you book it.

And as your feet hit the entrance, you hear him.

But, he’s closer now, ascending the stairs to the first floor as his eyes lock on your shadowed figure before you slam the door closed behind you, his voice booming in the distance as the twigs break underneath your feet, wincing at the sting of pain it brings.

“Bad girl,” He taunts, “Breakin’ our rules, baby!”

Outside of the strict use of one weapon, mutually agreed upon, you both promised to never leave the premises, both for safety, and fairness. But, Joel was good—too good. If anything, it would give him a challenge.

You knew there would be consequences, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

–

You had spent twelve hours evading him, bones and muscles aching with discomfort as you tripped, falling to the bed of rocks covered in slimy moss as you stumbled on your knees toward the running stream, cupping your hands to guide the water into your mouth, instantly quenching the thirst that had festered, patting your wet hands against your clammy skin, knees bloodied and dripping against the surface of the rock as you rested for a moment, catching your breath.

You welcomed the silence, wondering if Joel had stuck on the path of the road, unsuspecting that you would veer off barefoot into the forest on your own, constantly sticking by his side, vigilant of the threats that lingered there.

You whine as your cunt throbs with need, hastily shoving your hand under the fabric of your shorts to slide your fingers against the sticky, wet fabric of your underwear, the gentle press against your clit like a shock to the system, your free hand clutching onto nothing but air as you gasped, subconsciously rocking your hips against your hand.

Your eyes had fallen shut, lost in your own pleasure that you forget how vulnerable you are, nearly naked in an open forest where anyone could sneak up on you—though, no one traveled out this far and it had been several minutes since Joel had caught sight of you, the lack of defined tracks to follow proving difficult for him, but then you hear a sigh, a tsk.

He’s on you before you have a chance to react, knife at your throat as his teeth graze against the shell of your ear and he’s wrenching your hands away from your shorts, “Found you,” He hisses through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pressed against your thigh through the denim.

He was hot, burning up—both with a want for you, but physically, like a fever had taken over.

You hadn’t realized how much time had passed until you’re forcing your eyes open, staring up at the opaline moonlight, making Joel all the more threatening as you couldn’t see him, but you could feel him, rendered immobile as he worked himself over your hips, the weight of him keeping you still.

“S’right little mouse, ain’t got nowhere to go, do ya?” He taunts, fingers curling around your head as they dig into the root of your hair and tug, the blunt side of the knife running along your throat.

“How’d—how did—find me?” You choke out through broken, garbled gasps as the drool accumulated in your mouth at his scent, the freshness of soap from a shower the night before but a mix of his own arousal collecting in his jeans, “What gave it ‘way?”

“Can hear those perfect little whimpers from a mile away, baby,” He softens slightly, panting heavily against your skin as he belt jingles with subtle movement, slipping through the loops before he’s disposing of it to the side, “S’that why you ran? Scared I was gonna catch you playin’ with yourself in there—well, look at ya,” He taunts, “Got a special place for this one,”

You feel the cool edge of the knife drag along the side of your neck and down your spine, ripping through the fabric like butter, aided by the gentle tug of his hands as he ripped your top into pieces, repeating the process with your shorts, his fingers curling around the lacy edge of your underwear as he tugged up, dragging the tip of the blade along your cheek.

“Considering markin’ this pretty little ass up, that what you want?”

“S’that what you want?” You retort playfully.

There’s a small prick, another, pulling your underwear between your ass until he can get the blade underneath the fabric and with a quick flick of his wrist, it was nothing but trash, stuffed between his teeth as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, forcing your thighs apart as he cut lightly into your skin at first, an initial to mark his territory.

The letter J forever engraved at the inside of your thigh, the thumb of his unoccupied hand splitting through your folds and pressing against your swollen clit, distracting you from the sharp pain with his movements.

“S’beautiful,” He tells you, admiring the mark but also the way your cunt greedily sucks his thumb inside of you, “fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your hands balled into tight fists above your head as you writhe beneath him, “M’close, Joel—s’right there,” You moan, feeling his hand squeeze at your wounded thigh, his fingers stained with blood as he moves off of you, easily manhandling you onto your back as he stares down with dark, brooding eyes, disposed panties still stuffed in his mouth.

You rise onto your elbows as his hand molds over the back of your skull, nodding toward his buttoned jeans, his opposite hand reaching for your wrist as he guides it to the button before casually yanking the cloth from his mouth and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans.

His unoccupied hand explores the peaks of your chest, soft and supple and begging to be squeezed, bitten, pert nipple the perfect size to fit between his lips and against the flat of his tongue, finding himself drifting at the thought before your roving touch brings him back.

“You feelin’ gracious?” He asks, “Gonna suck my cock?”

You nod obediently, his hand gripping tighter in your dirtied, damp hair.

He’s waiting, quietly, ominously, only barely satisfied as you begin to pry the button apart and pull at his zipper, the heat of his cock pressing against the fabric as you rub your palm over it teasingly, earning a sharp tug in return.

“You wanna keep up the game?” Joel asks like a warning, “I’ll hunt you through these damn woods, girl. And I won’t play nice.”

There’s a rawness to his voice during times like this, during the hunt. It’s similar to how he sounds as he rouses from bed, groggy with sleep—relaxed, but resting at a deep, booming register.

You pout slightly, squeezing your hand over the damp fabric of his underwear, precum seeping through the front as you lean forward, running your tongue along the cotton before pulling with your teeth at the waistband, tucking his underwear beneath his balls as you like from base to tip in one fluid movement, intoxicated by his scent.

It was mostly clean, but earthy—a day worth of exhilarating hunt and the heat of both the day and the pollen seeping from his pores, he’s salty and sweet, your tongue sliding slowly over the slit before he’s pushing his cock beyond your lips with a solid pump of his hips, moaning at the intrusion.

He favors the soft whimpers as your eyes flutter with the press of his cock against the back of your throat, fucking himself into your mouth with a tight hand in your hair, eyes welling with tears as you gasp after a particularly deep thrust, eyes blown wide as he pulled you off of his cock suddenly, moving to match his stance as you rise unsteadily to your knees.

“Nuh uh,” He admonished, “down, turn around.”

You open your mouth to speak and Joel slaps your face once, sharp, not entirely unsuspected as there was a clear definite line of who was in charge, always testing your limits when he asserted his dominance—you knew it was coming, you wanted it.

“S’your one and only warning,” He tells you sternly, “now turn.”

In times of desperate need and insatiable desire, it was easier to be a vessel to him. Fulfilling his release of pent up aggression and carefully tucked away primal nature, he shifts quietly behind you to stand and strip himself naked, fisting his cock into his hand as he rubs it through your slick folds, puffy and swollen from how badly you needed to be filled by him, consumed.

“So fragile, little mouse,” He takes glance of the weeping wound between your thighs and the flutter of your hole as he fits the head of his cock inside of you, only an inch of his thick and swollen cock, a collective sigh of relief from you both at the connection, “Need to remind you what it means to be mine, don’t I?”

“Joel fucking get on with it alread—”

Joel quickly twists his hand into your hair and pulls your head up, gasping as the hands under your chest curls into fists, pulling you flush with his pelvis as he slips inside of you in one quick motion, feeling the sting as his fingers dig into your skin.

“Smart mouth,” He comments, “so fuckin’ dumb for this cock your forget how to behave yourself, ain’t that right?”

You groan pathetically as he yanks at your hair, “You need me to do it for you, old man?”

You wiggle your ass slightly back against his cock, a harsh huff of breath through his nose before he’s dipping your head under the water as you both teeter near the edge of the rock, with the current you could feel the faint splashes against your skin, but he takes advantage of the gap and dunks your head in the chilled water for a moment, pulling you back up as you gasp.

“You done?” He asks, earning a pitched giggle in return, airy and light as you find the effort amusing, leading him closer toward the edge of the cliff, guiding him into a space that would help him use, without guilt or remorse for his actions.

“Depends,” You challenge, your cunt clenching around his cock as he shifts his hips, one movement from exploding as your clit throbbed intensely.

As a result, he dunks your head once more, this time for a moment longer than last and you find yourself coughing, sputtering air as your wet hair drips over your face, blinking the bleariness from your eyes.

"Always forget how much you like it when I hurt you,” Joel notes with a tone of admiration.

You hum in approval, wretched back by his unyielding hand as he pulls you flush with his chest, your hand flying into his hair as the other drifts over your clit, his hips pummeling into you at furious pace, teeth digging deep into your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby,” He coos, cradling your head in his hand as it lulls back, fingers curling your clit in desperation as his groans melt into your skin, “fuck—she’s squeezin’ me tight, you feelin’ that?”

His hips slow for a moment, deep thrusts as the head of his cock rubs against that nauseatingly sweet spot inside of you, eyes rolling back at the sensation as your orgasm takes hold, pulling Joel over the edge unexpectedly with your whimpering breaths of relief, held up entirely by his own brute strength as he fucks into you lazily, pumping you full of his cum with every thrust.

There’s an immediate exhaustion as instant satisfaction fills your body and his own.

Though, you know it won’t last.

It was temporary, an ease to the ache that had a mind of its own on when it would weaken.

Joel’s fingers drifting between your legs playfully as he scoops up his own cum as it spilled out of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs before he feeds it into your mouth, resting lazily against his frame as he rest on one arm and hip, smearing the slick against your tongue before he brings your mouth to his, a greedy exchange as he licks into your mouth, chuckling as you eagerly leaned in for more, moving forward as he pulled away.

“Easy, baby,” He chastises, “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m right here.”

–

You can’t avoid how vulnerable it feels to trek back naked, hair mussed and your steps mimicking a drunken state as you stumble, guided upstairs and into the shower attached to the office, small and compact but at least there was running water and amenities packed away in Joel’s pack for you to use, every inch of your skin overly sensitive as you wash away the grime, feeling Joel approach from behind, careful removing the soap from your hand.

“We’re all locked up,” He informs you, doing another quick sweep as you stepped inside of the shower—he’s increasingly more relaxed now, but the heightened senses linger, his gentle touch igniting the fire in your gut as you turn on him, watching as he lathered his chest in the soap before asking, “still botherin’ ya, huh?”

You reach for him silently, pressing your lips to his tentatively, his gentleness returning with the hand that rests against your hip, slowly extending to your back as he pulls you in.

You loved him like this even more—the soft hums he released as you tilted your head to kiss him, his lips parting as you snuck your tongue into his mouth, filtering your finger through his hair and meeting him with a similar, relaxed passion.

Silently, he guides your hand to the small shelf embedded into the corner of the shower and crowds you against the tile, descending on old, aching knees despite himself. He’d pay for it later, he knows he will, but the way your leg instinctively lifts and rests over his shoulder is enough to soothe the pain for a brief time, the intensity of desire coming in waves.

He licks a long strip up the center of your folds, sucking on your clit as he eventually turns the water off entirely, your moans reverberating off the ceramic, practiced flicks of his tongue bringing you near your end quickly, sneaking two of his fingers inside of you as you come, always amazed at how greedy you pussy was to consume whatever it was he gave you.

Fingers, tongue, cock—it didn’t matter.

He peers up at you through a half-lidded gaze, your fingers running through damp hair as he slowly rises to his feet, peppering kissing up and along your body as he stands again.

“Let’s get dried off,” He tells you, “I know you’re starvin’—worked up a big appetite after today.”

Joel carefully wraps the towel around your body as he does the same, tying it around his waist as he chuckles at your smile, “Guess you could say that.”

And just as you think the pollen has finally worn off, it comes like a fever in the night.

At first, you insist it must be a dream, the way Joel is so helplessly rutting against your backside, tucked tight against his chest as you shared the singular blanket and pillow despite the other bed. He wanted you closer, he wanted you near.

You smell like honey and home—home like Jackson, that faint hint of charred wood from the fireplace that was constantly running in your home.

He’s willing and malleable to your movements as you guide him to his back, carefully slipping your underwear to the side as you guide him inside of you, a lazy pace as your chests meet, breathing into each other’s mouths as squeezes at any available skin he can access.

“So goddamn lucky,” He murmurs, “always takin’ care of me.”

His pointed thrust drove his words home, his nails digging into your hip as he came for the second time that night, nothing in his voice left to give as his throat felt raw, grunting pathetically as his seed spilled inside of you, a warmth radiating throughout and a sudden feeling of complete relief.

“I think we’re in the clear now,” You admit tiredly, rubbing your hands gently over his flushed chest as you glance up at him, both of you sighing at the loss as you move off of him and return to your previous position, barely registering the swipe of fabric between your legs as Joel cleaned you up without acknowledgment before he’s pulling you tight into his chest.

“Need to convince Tommy into letting me take up this patrol in the winter.”

You snicker quietly at his mischievous nature.

“Is that all I’m good for?” You tease playfully, “Scratchin’ that itch?”

“A couple of ‘em,” He admits honestly, pressing a soft kiss against the spot behind your ear, “s’good idea—as long as you don’t go breakin’ the rules and runnin’ off into the forest again—”

“Alright, alright, big guy,” You admonish, patting his head blindly over your shoulder as he shakes your hand away, “it’s not like you were really complaining about it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I knew just where to look.”

Of course he did.

You scoff lightly, “Oh, I’m sure—you got me down pat, like a damn book, don’t you?”

“Correct, baby,” He answers, “Ain’t no hiding from me.”

It’s a comfort, knowing he was always near.

Joel would always find you, no matter the situation.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #my writing

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punkshort · 2 months ago

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Red Lace & Holiday Cheer

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: (ex)pornstar!joel miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering, reader wears lingerie

WC: 4K

Roommates Masterlist

The bar was loud.

It was three days before Christmas. Students on break from college had come home to visit their families for the holidays but the first chance they got, they made plans to connect with friends they hadn't seen since summer. The entire street was packed with twenty-something year olds, every bar was filled to the brim, including the one Joel owned.

You had helped him decorate it for the holidays just two weeks prior. A small Christmas tree with chunky, multi-colored lights sat in the front. Twinkling white lights framed each large window and a garland was wrapped around the door. You even managed to find a spot for a couple large wreaths above the bar.

From your spot on the dance floor with Maria, you could just barely see Tommy's head. He was pouring drinks as fast as possible, hardly giving himself a chance to breathe. Surprisingly, Joel was no where to be found. If you had to guess, he was either bringing up a keg or doing his rounds on the floor, checking in with patrons and seeing if they needed anything while also keeping an eye out for trouble makers.

He had really grown into the role as a bar owner. It seemed like the perfect fit after he had quit the adult film industry. Not only was he his own boss, but he got to work with his brother. Your only complaint was the long nights, although you and Maria tried to frequent the bar at least once a week to see them while they worked. Typically, there was plenty of time to talk, but the week of Christmas had the bar feeling like more of a nightclub.

"Where's Joel?" Maria shouted over the music. You fanned your sweaty chest with your hand and scanned the crowded room.

"I don't know! Don't think I've seen him all night!" you yelled back. You checked the time and frowned. You always saw him at least once, even when it's busy, before midnight. He always sought you out, no matter what. You turned back to Maria with a look of concern.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find him!"

She nodded and gave you a thumbs up before turning her back, still swaying along with the music.

You pushed your way through the crowd, making a face when drunk frat boys or some familiar looking locals who were trying their luck with the college girls accidentally bumped into you. After what felt like an eternity of almost getting beer sloshed down your bright red dress from clueless patrons, you finally bellied up to the bar. You leaned over the edge of the wood, catching Tommy's eye. He nodded in your direction and you sat back on your heels as you waited for him to finish up at the other end of the bar.

"What you need, sugar?" Tommy yelled over the noise. Your gaze flickered down to his cheesy Christmas shirt and grinned.

"Is that thing getting you any extra tips?"

He shook his head and you laughed. "Nah, but it's fun. Tryin' to get into the spirit!"

"It was Maria's idea, wasn't it?" you yelled.

"Hundred percent!" he shouted back. You heard others off to your right trying to get his attention so you cut to the chase.

"Where's Joel?"

"Office! He was on the phone with some vendor last I saw 'em."

You nodded and shot him a thumbs up before you began your second journey, although mercifully it was shorter. His office was just down a short hallway behind the bar. Still, the crowd was thickest and rowdiest right where you were trying to walk. You had almost made it unscathed when you heard a curse and felt a splash of some cold liquid down your arm.

"Shit!" you exclaimed. You began to flick your arm of any excess when a young man's voice shouted out to you.

"I'm sorry!" he slurred, but when you looked up and your eyes locked, a slow smirk stretched across his face. He couldn't have been more than twenty-two, surrounded by his buddies who were giving him little shoves in your direction. He took a few steps forward and held out his hand.

"I'm Chris," he offered. "Lemme buy you a drink, make it up to you."

His eyes slithered up and down your body, clearly appreciating the short red Christmas dress you had chosen to wear that night.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," you said, giving him a wave and turning back towards the bar. He tapped your shoulder and you swiveled around.

"C'mon, it's the least I could do. Almost ruined that gorgeous dress of yours," he tried while licking his lips.

You sighed and crossed your arms.

"I'm dating the guy who owns this place. I can drink for free," you snapped, patience growing thin when you added, "And have anyone thrown out."

Chris whistled and rose his hands in defeat.

"Alright, suit yourself."

He backed away towards his friends and you made quick work of pushing through the remaining crowd to get back behind the bar. The moment you stepped foot in the small hallway, it already felt calmer. You sashayed a little drunkenly past the breakroom and employee bathroom before stopping at the closed door at the end of the hall that had a stocking hanging from it with Joel's name painted in glitter. With excitement tingling under your skin, you rapped your knuckles softly against the wood and pressed your ear against the door.

"It's open!"

The old door squeaked on its hinges when you opened it and slipped inside, smiling when you saw Joel hunched over his desk, scribbling something on an invoice. His office wasn't much to look at; dingy old laminate floors, a desk that looked like it was from the seventies, two tall file cabinets that were overflowing and shoved in a corner, and one measly light above your head that had one bulb burnt out. But it was peaceful. It was quiet. And by that point, it reminded you of Joel. His cologne hung in the air, even when he hadn't been in the room for hours. On top of one filing cabinet was a decorative Christmas tree and on the back of his door was a wreath, both of which you put in there when he wasn't paying attention.

He finally looked up and you saw the tension instantly drain from his face when he saw it was you.

"Hey," he said softly, dropping his pen so he could stand to greet you, chair groaning from the loss. He rounded the desk and pulled you into his arms. Your mouths sought each other out like magnets and you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck with a contented sigh when you finally felt his lips on you once again.

"Where have you been?" you pouted, gazing up at him while still hanging around his neck. His hands flattened against your back, the material of your dress bunching a little and exposing your legs even more.

"Been busy workin'. Sorry, darlin'. Lost track of time," he told you, but his eyes were drifting down your dress. "You been here this whole time wearin' this thing?"

"What? You don't like it?" you teased.

Joel scoffed and shook his head. "Like it a little too much. What's the occasion?" He finally dragged his eyes back up to meet yours.

"The occasion is it's Christmas," you said while your fingers began to fiddle with the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"Christmas ain't for a few more days."

"Well, maybe I wanted to give you your gift early," you smirked. Joel groaned in the back of his throat and pulled you closer so your body was pressed tightly against his. You began to pepper kisses along his neck, pausing when you reached his pulse to whisper, "Unless, that is, you're too busy."

"Lock the fuckin' door," he said lowly. A shiver rolled down your spine and you spun out of his hold to do exactly as he asked.

"Can't just wait, huh?" Joel scolded while he undid his belt and dropped it to the floor. You bit your lip, heart skipping excitedly in your chest as you backed up towards his desk. You stopped when you felt the edge press into the backs of your thighs and grinned.

"Sorry. I just thought you'd really want to open it now." You reached one arm behind you and slowly tugged at your zipper. Joel's eyes darted to lock onto the movement while his hands worked on opening his pants. You could tell he was loving every second of your little show. His lips were parted, breath coming in short pants, and his neck was already growing flush.

When your dress felt loose, you knew you reached the end of the zipper. Your chest heaved with anticipation before finally wiggling out of your dress and letting it fall to your feet.

You weren't lying. You really did have something for him under your clothes, although scraps of material like a see-through red teddy with a plunging neckline was difficult to define as anything substantial.

His eyes immediately bugged out of his head.

"Oh, Christ," he choked out. You giggled, pleased to have taken him by surprise. You hardly ever had the upper hand in the bedroom, not with the experience he brought by being an ex-pornstar, but on that day, you did.

His face paled when he saw your body in that teddy. Well, considering how much skin he could actually see through it, it hardly felt like you were wearing much at all, but Joel didn't seem to see it that way. He was absolutely hypnotized, completely unable to look away. His eyes greedily raked over every inch of you and you smiled to yourself when you realized he hadn't even yet noticed the panties you were wearing were crotchless.

"You like it?" you asked when his gawking had gone on long enough. You twirled so he could see the back, his throat bobbing when he saw the way your ass was exposed in your barely there panties. Joel forced his eyes up when you stood before him expectantly, feeling so excited and nervous that you had to bounce from foot to foot.

"You look beautiful," he finally whispered. You grinned and reached out both hands for him, laughing a little when he stumbled over his own feet to join you. As thrilled as you were to throw Joel off his game, it incited something deep within you when he took control again. He crowded you against his desk and dragged his hands fucking everywhere. Down your arms, over your stomach, across your back, feeling the lacy material under his big hands. And only when one hand cupped your breast and the other reached down to squeeze your ass did your own breath get stolen away.

"You're a bad girl," he murmured against the shell of your ear. Your eyelids fluttered closed as heat pooled between your legs, torturous and aching. "Wearin' this all night while I sat back here fightin' on the phone 'bout goddamn shipping rates?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth but it quickly melted into a gasp when his teeth pinched your skin, right under your ear.

"Joel," you moaned his name, tipping your head back while his mouth dragged down the column of your throat. You reached between your bodies, fingers searching for the inevitable bulge you knew you would find, and smiling to yourself when you felt his cock jump under your touch.

"Gonna let me fuck you?" you heard him ask. His lips trailed across your collarbone to begin their ascent up the opposite side of your neck. "Right here? In the back of a dirty bar?"

"I'd let you fuck me anywhere," you rasped, hopping up onto his desk and spreading your legs. He stepped between your knees, face buried against your throat and hips pressing stubbornly against your center as he continued to leave red marks across your chest and neck. He chuckled, the vibration from his voice sending shockwaves from your pulse point to the bottom of your stomach.

"Gonna hold you to that one day."

You were in a lust filled haze, completely absorbed with the way Joel kissed you, deep and messy and urgent, to notice when his hand traveled lower. His fingertips grazed between your legs, right where a thin strip of fabric should have been, but to his shock and delight, found nothing except your bare, leaking pussy.

"Fuck me," he groaned, leaning back to get a good look. He swiped his thumb through your slit and you whimpered, causing his dark eyes to snap up to yours with a deadly smirk.

"You liked this, huh?" His fingers spread your folds while your arms began to shake, propped up behind you and ready to collapse. "You liked dancin' around in that short dress, knowin' this soft little pussy was naked under there, waitin' for me to fuck her?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. Not a single word could be formed in that moment when his middle finger prodded at your opening, testing you, before sinking inside. You tossed your head back with a shaky moan and spread your legs wider, encouraging him to continue, to give you more.

You could only imagine how you looked in that moment; elbows holding you up with your head hanging back between your shoulders in bliss, legs spread wide while wearing slutty Christmas lingerie across his desk as music thumped steadily through the walls. However it looked, though, was worth the hungry way Joel stared down at you with his hand working slowly between your thighs, one thick finger curling but purposely not touching the spot that made you come undone.

Your hips wiggled as you tried to chase his hand, desperate for him to give you what you needed, but he held you down, stilling your movements.

"Quit it."

"Joel," you whined, but he shook his head.

"This is my gift, remember?" he tutted.

He pulled out his finger and you huffed, frustrated. With heavy lidded eyes, you watched him pop the finger that was just inside of you into his mouth. He made a satisfied noise while reaching inside his pants. The second he pulled out his cock, your eyes drifted down and watched as he slowly stroked himself up and down.

You should have been used to him by then, but it never failed to send a wave of nerves through you when you saw the sheer size of him, something that served him very well in his old career and now something only you benefitted from.

One of his hands planted itself at your hip when he came to stand between your legs and he began to drag the tip of his cock through your arousal. You sighed and went to lay down flat across his desk, but he stopped you.

"Nuh uh. Want you to watch," he muttered. You caught his eye and your heart flipped in your chest at the look he gave you. You swallowed tightly and gave him a brief nod, confirming you would do as he asked. Then and only then did he drop his gaze to between your legs, spreading your lips with his thumbs to make room for the thick head of his cock to rest at your opening.

You watched together as he pressed forward ever so slightly, just barely kissing your pussy before pulling back entirely. He did it again and when he shifted back a second time, you gave him a pathetic little whine. His eyes darted back up to yours and he grinned.

"Be patient."

"C'mon, Joel... it's Christmas," you pouted. He chuckled, his stern facade fading, and shook his head.

"Alright," he breathed, and half a second later jut his hips forward, feeding you half his length in one pass. You gasped sharply and fell backwards onto his desk, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

He cursed under his breath, dragging himself back until just his tip remained sheathed inside you, then pushed forward once again, but that time he gave you every devastating inch of his impressive cock. You both gasped, sucking all the air out of the room with your heavy, quick panting as you each struggled to adjust.

"Goddamn," he murmured. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth agape as you focused on the stretch, but you pried them open so you could confirm he was just as wrecked as you felt.

"Oh, honey, you look fuckin' beautiful like this." His eyes were fixated on where you were connected, where red lace framed your exposed cunt. His dark eyes snapped up to yours when he very seriously added, "We're gonna get alotta use out of this gift, baby."

"That was the idea," you giggled breathlessly. There was a loud cheer through the walls when the song changed. It sounded like a bunch of guys right up against the bar, just twenty or thirty feet away who had no idea you were about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

"Good song," Joel said casually. He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly began to rock his hips. Your mind went quiet, not a single thought drifting through your head except for how good it felt when he bottomed out inside you.

He was gentle at first. He knew he was alot to take so he always started with shallow thrusts, paying close attention to your cues. When your thighs relaxed and your breathing evened out, that was when he began to give it to you faster. Harder. Deeper. It was only a few minutes until his hips slammed into yours so forcefully that it had your back arching and your hand scrambling to hold onto the edge of the desk above you.

"Fuck - fuck - fuck," he huffed, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips. You whined and squirmed across the desk, trying to catch your breath. One of Joel's hands pressed flat against the desk for leverage, the other roughly gripped your waist to hold you steady, and his eyes remained fixated on the way your body stretched to accommodate his size. Every single time, it amazed him.

A loud knock came from the door. Your eyes locked, his hips slowed, and you shook your head. You mouthed the word don't. He made a face but acquiesced, then continued to fuck you, just slower and quieter. A second loud knock came and an annoyed Tommy yelled out, "Joel? C'mon, man, we need more Coors."

"Have fuckin' Steve do it, I'm busy!" he shouted back. You scowled then stifled a moan when he ground himself against you, rubbing your clit with the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft.

"Steve's on break!"

Joel snarled and reared back, grabbing the underside of both your knees and tugging you close.

"Gimme five minutes!" he yelled, voice only slightly giving away your compromising position when it cracked near the end of his sentence.

"Five?" you whispered with a disappointed look.

"Ten! Ten minutes!"

Finally you heard Tommy grumble under his breath and retreat back down the hall.

"I'll make you come in five minutes," Joel panted with a cocky grin. He began to pummel into you harder once again, picking up right where he left off. "Wanted to bend you over and come all over that perfect ass, but I'll save that for next time."

You groaned and tilted your chin to the ceiling as you felt that familiar tightness begin to pull low in your belly. Joel shifted, adjusting the way he was standing between your legs, and you cried out when the tip of his cock began to stroke against that spot that had you seeing stars. Blindly, you reached out to hold onto something, but only ended up scattering unpaid invoices and receipts onto the floor.

Words failed you. Heat flared deep inside, bright hot flames roaring to life in mere seconds that had your muscles going rigid and your spine curling off the desktop. There was no warning. There was nothing you could do except give into the intense pleasure as you choked on your words.

"Oh, shit," Joel grunted, hand reaching between you to rub firm circles over your clit. "S-shit, you're gonna come," he gasped right as your cunt clamped down around him. You wailed out a broken version of his name, legs trembling around his waist. He quickly fell forward, his body covering yours, and your lips connected in messy, wild kisses. Seconds later and with a deep groan echoing inside your mouth, Joel came, filling you with his thick, hot release until his cock stopped twitching and a shudder shot through his entire body.

You whimpered Joel's name and that was when he realized you were shaking violently. With his chest still heaving, he propped himself onto his elbows and slid his cock from between your legs before gathering you up in his arms and holding you close, enveloping you with his warmth.

"I got you," he murmured over and over into your hair. You nodded weakly, head still buzzing and hands still shaking. Slowly, your eyes reopened. Your pulse began to slow and your breaths grew deeper each time you pulled in air. You nuzzled your face into his shoulder, sighing from the comforting strokes of his hand over your back.

"You okay?" he asked after a few quiet minutes. You nodded and took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne mixing with his deodorant calming your frayed nerves even more.

"That was... intense," you whispered, lips searching for his throat. Joel continued to soothingly rub your back.

"You did so good, baby."

You smiled and nipped gently at his skin. "Did you enjoy your present?"

Joel's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle before he responded.

"This little number was a beautiful gift, but I don't need any of it, you know that, right?" he asked. "All I want is you."

"Are you saying that all you want for Christmas is... me?" You grinned when you leaned back to look up at him hazily. Joel laughed at your corny joke and cupped your face with both his hands to pull you in for a tender kiss.

"Yeah," he murmured against your lips. "Man can't ask for much else when he's already got everythin' he needs in one perfect little package."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as your cheeks warmed from his compliment. "I love you," you told him earnestly. Every time he heard those words, it made him smile.

"I love you, too."

Right when he leaned down for another kiss, a loud knock cracked against the door.

"Joel! The Coors!"

"God-fuckin'-" Joel grumbled before shouting, "I'm comin' right now! Jesus Christ!"

His eyes found yours and he gave you an apologetic look.

"You gonna be alright? Just gimme a few minutes-"

"I'm good," you told him with a firm nod, then gave his chest a little shove, pushing him towards the door. "Go. You have a bar to run."

He tucked himself back into his pants with a hiss and swiveled around before locating a box of tissues and handing them to you.

"Lock the door after I leave. This," he dragged his finger up and down in the air, indicating your skimpy lingerie, "is just for me to see."

"Yes, sir," you giggled with your legs still dangling over the edge of his desk. He shook his head in disbelief and fixed his shirt before disappearing out into the hallway.

Slowly, you cleaned yourself up as best you could and fixed the teddy before slipping your dress back on, concealing your little secret once again. You had your hand on the doorknob, poised to leave, when a thought occurred to you. Quickly, you shimmied your panties down your legs and hurried behind his desk to drop them in one of his drawers. You smiled proudly to yourself and headed back towards the door, already planning what new set you should surprise him with for Valentine's Day.

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#joel x reader smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #roommates fic

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gghostwriter · 5 months ago

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Whispered Truths

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 0.8k a/n: This is actually a request from @bloodredrubyrose and I really liked how this came out. I also used my favorite piece of fiction here as a prop so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Couples, no matter how new or old, tend to create personalized dates as a way to strengthen the relationship. Some go on hikes together, some go on travels, while some stay in the comfort of their homes—under a blanket with a chosen book on hand.

You and Spencer definitely fall under the latter category. It was quite obvious from the first meeting that literature would be one of the strongest bonding agents between you and him. After all, it was how you were brought together—crashing into one another at the library with books and miscellaneous items scattered on the tiled floor. A few shy glances and bewitching dates later, you found yourself spending your Saturday nights in the presence of your boyfriend of six months, hosting an exclusive reading club with just two members, you and him.

“I never thought of it that way,” your left hand paving an aimless path through Spencer’s curly hair while the other held the book up high.

The pitter patters of the rain outside softly echoed through the walls. You were propped up on the loveseat sofa, his head resting on your lap as he looked upwards in question in regards to your statement.

“Never thought of which?” His voice low and soft, striking a resemblance to how he gazed at you oh so lovingly. As if you were the most riveting piece if art he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“How water played a big symbol throughout the whole book. It was really focused on during the first chapters but I—I just never quite connected the dots,” you clarified, bring the book to a close.

It was your choice for the week, East of Eden by John Steinbeck—a modern classic and had been your favorite work of literature since high school. Spencer had lent his copy to you last week and you vice versa—both turning brown from age, pages about to fall apart from its binding, annotations scribbled on the margins and any lengthy self reflections written on various notebook pages sandwiched in between.

“Your explanation on the empty pages at the end—how water is capable of bringing both life and death. Water being essential for the crops but at the same time, drowned victims. It’s such a poignant note that I think I just fell more in love with Steinbeck’s writing,” you added. “It also made me realize how water in his novel represents the dual capacity of the human soul for good and evil. How we are all filled with conundrums and contradictions and what makes us different from the other species on Earth is our ability to choose whether we are good or evil—” Spencer had sat up and leaned in, interrupting your musings. “—what?” You breathed out as his lips hovered on yours.

The once cozy atmosphere quickly charged with tension and desire that seemed to ooze out of Spencer. There was little space in between and you had no doubt that from the outside looking in, it looked like he was kissing you but he was not, rather a sliver of air was still given space to pass through. So close but so far.

You studied his features up close. How his long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings beating against the wind as his molten, darkened, hazel eyes flickered between your lips and eyes. How his nose lightly caressed yours in an endless Eskimo kiss. How his cheeks stained into a lighter shade of red. And how his pink tongue peeked out to wet his pillowy lips.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered as if it was some kind of national secret that he now felt right to expose.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was the first time he had said it. His love for you had been conveyed with every touch, with every action, and with every silence but this was the first time he had put it into words.

His lips caressed yours—the pressure almost non-existent. A ghost of a kiss to gauge your reaction and consent.

“I love you,” he repeated a little louder this time, eyes locking into the very depths of your soul. “You and your mind have enchanted me since the beginning—so beautiful, so captivating.”

The butterflies set free in your stomach caused you to viscerally shiver in reaction.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

A smile graced his face and it was bright and as blinding as the sun, like it had finally decided to stop hiding behind the clouds and show itself in all of its glory.

He leaned in once more. The pressure from his lips now heavier and headier, trying to stamp his everlasting mark on you and in between all these kisses were whispers of his utter devotion and adoration until there was no more space—until you both became one on his loveseat sofa.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid request

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jiniretracha · 2 months ago

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𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟎 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight smut (piv!)

Summary: Felix Lee makes a bet with his co-workers in which he had to make a woman fall in love with him within 10 days, but he picks the wrong woman, who's working on an article for the magazine she works for called 'How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days' and she had chosen him as his prey. Based on one of my comfort movies: How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003).

Word Count: a whooping amount of 13.2k

PS: this is an old fic of mine from my old ao3 account (that i don't use anymore lol), i rewrote it with Lix instead. You can check it out here. Also, i proofread this but i don't trust myself that much so, if you see any mistake, feel free to let me know pls.

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

Day 1

“I’m going back to bed, I have no reason to live”

“Oh Karina! Come on. Get up, I’m not gonna let you lose your job over a stupid guy” you said.

Karina laid in bed, tears both fresh and dried on her cheeks, heartbroken over a guy she met, fell in love with and then told her he didn’t want anything serious.

“Oh, oh Y/N” Karina said, hugging you.

“You only dated the guy for a week” You reminded her in a whisper.

“It was the best week of my life, Y/N. He was perfect” she sniffled.

You sighed and pulled away from the hug. “Come on. I’m sure Seulgi yelling at us because we didn’t write the article like she wanted us to will bring you back to reality and will make you forget about the douche you dated” you said with a smile, making her chuckle.

You helped her get dressed and then got in a taxi to the Composure offices, where you, Karina and your other best friend, Ryujin worked. Composure was a ‘girly or gay’ magazine, as everyone liked to call it, created by Kang Seulgi, where you could find either the latest trend in fashion, the Kardashians latest fake scandal or how to catch men like Harry Styles. You found all the articles that were written in the magazine a little bit sexist, you studied journalism to become a real one, not a gossip writer for a cheap magazine. But it was a job that gave you a certain status, you couldn’t complain.

When you arrived at the Composure offices, you opened the door of the cab for Karina, who held a couple of tissues in her hand. She blew her nose and got surprised by Ryujin who was holding a cup holder with 3 newly ordered coffees from Starbucks. “Hey honey” Ryujin winced when she saw Karina state.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it okay?” she smiled through the pain, making you and Ryujin nod.

You got inside the big building and pressed the button that led to the Composure floor.

Karina broke down and leaned her head on the elevator wall. “Why? Why does this always happen to me? I get this great guy, and everything’s amazing for a week and a half, and suddenly, it’s over and I’m mystified!” she cried.

The people inside the elevator were looking at the girl with furrowed eyebrows and you glared at them, making them look the other way.

“Mingyu and I had such a connection” she gushed over him. “Like-like the first time we had sex, it was so beautiful. I even cried” she said.

You pressed your lips together, suddenly very aware of the people inside the elevator. “You mean like, shed a tear, wiped it with a finger. Right?”

“No, I was very emotional. I even told him that I loved him” she explained, with a shake of her head.

“After how many days?” Ryujin asked sipping on her coffee to hide her grimace.

“Five” she said and then looked the other way. “Two”

You and Ryujin sighed loudly.

“But… I just felt like he needed to know” she said.

“Well, what did he say?” you asked.

Karina sighed. “He didn’t have to say anything. I knew he felt the same as me” she smiled and then she frowned. “But then he started getting really busy… I didn’t know where he was at times. I kept calling him, calling him and calling but he was never home!”

“You kept calling him?” You asked, wincing.

“Well he wasn’t answering” she defended herself. “Plus he didn’t know it was him, my number was blocked”

“Oh sweetie” Ryujin said. “I’m sure he thought it was one of his friends”

The elevator dinged and you got out, Ryujin and Karina following behind.

“Rina, honey. You do realize you were way too pretty for him? I mean, you were like Kaia Gerber when she was dating Pete Davidson!” you explained. “You need to be in a relationship like Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly, you can’t decide which one is hotter”

Karina huffed. “Maybe but… for me, he was really handsome. And cute. Ugh, he was perfect” she said and a few tears slipped from her cheek.

“No, wait. Don’t cry honey. What Y/N and I want to say is that you need to realize that if this guy didn’t like you for who you were, then screw him” Ryujin explained.

“Yeah, but I know why he dumped me. I’m too fat”

“You’re not fat!” both you and Ryujin said.

As you climbed up the stairs to get to your respective offices you sighed. “Okay, Rina, look. Even if the most beautiful girl in the world acted the way you did, a normal guy would still be running in the other direction” you said, as your friends followed behind you.

“No guy would be running away from you, Y/N” Karina said. “I mean, you could barf all over him and he’d say, “Thank you, can you please do it again?”” she said, making you laugh.

“Okay, that is absolutely disgusting and totally not true!” you laughed at her metaphor. “Cause if I did the things you did, I’d get dumped too. Anyways, enough with this Mingyu bullshit. I got two tickets for the Knicks game for tomorrow that Ryujin got from his cousin, and since you’re the only one available, you could join me, maybe?”

“Nah thanks, I’d like to sit in my misery for a couple more days” Karina sighed.

The three of you got inside Seulgi’s office along with other co-workers.

“Alrighty, family. What do we got for the next issue?” Seulgi asked.

Ryujin raised her hand. “As you asked, I got the latest The Bachelor drama covered, and I also answered a few of the questions users asked us on the website”

Seulgi nodded. “Great work, Ryujin. What about How-To with Y/N?”

You smiled. “I worked on something different and completely new for the issue. It’s uh… a political piece--”

“--Y/N. You work for Composure magazine. Not Forbes” Seulgi said sternly. “We are fashion, drama, gossip, cosmetic surgeries, you name it. That’s what Composure is about”

“Yeah, I know but--”

“Y/N, you writing in the column is new for you, I get it. But you’re working for me , and until I decide when you are going to write whatever you want, you write whatever I want. Okay?”

“Yeah” you nodded, looking at your skirt, not wanting to look Seulgi in the eyes.

“Karina, what do you got?” Seulgi sighed.

She lifted her head and paled. “I…Uh… sorry, Seulgi. I wasn’t feeling very well” Karina said.

“She got dumped” Ryujin quickly filled in, earning a glare from Karina.

“Oh, no… Karina. It must be feeling hellish for you these past few days, but I must say you’re looking gorgeous” Seulgi complimented. “Doesn’t she?” she asked and everyone nodded, complimenting her.

Karina sighed. “I haven’t been eating since the split”

“Good for you! Write about it” Seulgi said. Ryujin and you looked at each other and grimaced.

“I can’t use my personal life as a story” she said, her voice small.

Seulgi smiled. “I understand completely. Who will use Karina’s story for their article?” she asked suddenly.

“No, no, no. Wait, Seulgi. With all due respect no one has business here using my story for an article in a magazine, I’m sorry but--”

“I’ll do it” you said suddenly, an idea clicking in your mind.

“What?” Karina looked at you.

“I-I’ll sort of do it. You’ll be my inspiration” you said. “Like, look at Karina. She’s a great girl, right?” you asked, and Seulgi nodded with a curt yes and nodded for you to continue. “An amazing woman. But… she has a problem hanging onto relationships. No offense. And probably, doesn't know what she’s doing wrong, like it could happen to our readers. So, my idea was that I could start dating this guy and then drive him away but only using these common mistakes like girls like Rina or our readers commit all the time. I’ll even… keep a diary of it and it will be sort of a dating how-to in reverse”

Karina smiled at you and Seulgi clapped her hands together. “What not to do. Brilliant!”

“Yeah”

“How to lose a guy in 10 days” Seulgi said. “Loved it, go. Now Sunoo, what’s the shoe story you wanted--”

“I’m sorry, Seulgi. Ten days? Why ten days?” you asked.

Her eyebrows arched. “Well, I figured 5 days is too short and we go to press in 11, so…” she said.

Karina and Ryujin gave you thumbs up, making you smile at them, but innerly wondering how the hell would you manage to do this in only ten days.

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

Felix Lee arrived at his office, parking his motorbike and taking off his helmet. As always, earning smiles and flirtatious looks from the ladies in the streets, but he loved the attention.

Working as a publicity chief had its perks. You could share an office with your best friends and have an assistant that brings you lunch or whatever you want, but it also had its drawbacks like having a boss who’s riding your ass. That was Felix’s case.

Felix got inside the building and into his office. “What’s up, Hyunjinnie?” he said.

Hyunjin looked up from his computer and smirked. “Oh, hey, Lix”

Jisung, his other best friend, got inside with a worried look. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what? About the Knicks game tomorrow? I did, and it’s pretty terrible, cause I didn’t get the tickets--”

Jisung sighed. “Not about the Knicks game. De Lauer diamonds is looking for a new ad agency and Mr. Park wants to move it aggressively”

“Yes!” Felix smiled. “Yes! This is a good day. Guys, did you know that diamonds are as common as taxis on Fifth Avenue?” he asked while taking his shirt off, and grabbing his dress shirt from the desk. The women in the office every day went crazy whenever he came in with a normal, regular shirt and changed it for a formal one. “The value is entirely sentimental… but we do have game in what we do the best. Advertising. So, my point is--” he said while buttoning his shirt up. “De Lauer owns the diamond market, meaning, if I represent them, I basically own everyone’s ass in the industry” he smiled.

Hyunjin sighed. “That’s the thing, Mr. Park already gave it to the Chaeyoung’s”

Felix’s eyes narrowed. Son Chaeyoung and Park Chaeyoung were his number 1 competitors inside the publicity business. “No way!”

“Yeah, it kind of makes sense when you have a pair of hot leggy chicks and we’re the beer and sneakers division, you know?” Hyunjin said.

“No way, I’ll have this deal” Felix said.

Jisung and Hyunjin stepped in his way. “No, Mr. Park is on a plane right now, business meeting. He’s having dinner with the Chaeyoung’s tonight”

“Where?”

“At Yu Bar” Jisung said and Hyunjin nodded.

“That fancy shithole? I’ll crash there and claim what’s ours guys. This will be my pitch, my account, my campaign, my baby. I make the rules now” he smirked.

“It’s kind of hard when you have a millionaire right above your ass but we get your point bro, we’re with you” Hyunjin said with a shrug.

“Hell yeah” Jisung smiled.

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

After work, you and the girls prepared yourselves to set a trap for the guy you were going to use for this ‘How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days’.

You put on your best dress and put the plan in action, heading to Yu Bar, Karina’s parents restaurant.

“I don’t think this will work, Y/N” Karina said with a frown walking down the street.

“Of course it will work, Rina. Just watch me hook a guy with my charms, like woo him a little that will make him want to see me again and then tomorrow I’ll pull the switch and make him nuts” you explained with ease.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna burn down his apartment or bite him, are you?” Ryujin asked.

You laughed at her comment. “No, I’m gonna limit myself to doing everything girls do that make men run off” you shrugged. “That means being clingy, needy--”

“Touchy-feely” Ryujin added and you nodded. “Oh, call him in the middle of the night just to tell him everything you had to eat that day” she smirked devilishly.

“What’s wrong with that?” Karina asked, making you and Ryujin stop dead in your tracks. “I’m kidding”

You got inside Yu Bar and Karina gave a wink to the man guarding the door, letting him know they had free access to eat.

“Well, Ryujin and I will grab a couple of drinks, in the meantime, you go search for a man that could easily fall for your trap” Karina said and grabbed Ryujin’s hand, guiding her to the bar.

You nodded and looked around. Let’s get the plan started, you smirked to yourself.

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

Mr. Park arrived at Yu Bar with the Chaeyoung’s behind him.

“Hello Felix. What a surprise seeing you here” he said, surprised to see the freckled blonde sitting on the table he exclusively reserved for him and the Chaeyoung’s.

The girls behind him scowled at the intrusive blonde, and he winked at them.

“Hello, Mr. Park. How’s it going?” he smirked, standing to shake the man’s hand. “Son, Park” he nodded to them.

“I’m great, but what are you doing here?” he asked with a shake of his head, confused at the situation.

He sat down. “Well, I’m here for the meeting. I know I wasn’t invited but I should’ve. It was my tip De Lauer was shopping for a new firm” he smirked at the girls.

“Yes, it was. But I was thinking about who suits best within the company” Mr. Park said.

“And that’s me” Felix said confidently.

“Felix, I know you sell blow pretty well. But these ladies sell luxury faster than anyone” He said.

The blonde sighed, irritated to hear how his boss was complimenting his worst enemies.

“We’re here to sell diamonds, mostly women. Because let’s face it. Women love diamonds and if we can make them seem appealing to them then boom” the freckled man said. “Selling a diamond to a woman is like making her fall in love. Like talking about head-over-heels in love, his-and-her towels, let’s grow old together, L-O-V-E, love” he explained. The Chaeyoung’s were giving him a strange look. “Look, I love women. I do. I respect them, and listen to them. And that’s why I can sell myself to any woman, anytime, any day, anywhere” he said.

“Make a woman fall in love with diamonds or with you, Felix?” Son Chaeyoung asked.

Felix was taken aback with the question. “Either way… I’m pretty confident” he said.

“I’d like to see you prove that” Park Chaeyoung challenged.

“Oh, you would?”

She laughed. “The agency is co-hosting a party for the De Lauers at the museum. The party is in a week from sunday. Think you can make a woman fall in love with you by then?” Park Chaeyoung asked.

Felix’s eyes narrowed and smiled a little. “Ten days?”

“Any woman, anytime, anywhere?” Son Chaeyoung chimed in.

“Yeah well, any woman, who’s single, straight and available, yeah” he said.

Park Chaeyoung smirked. “Then it’s settled. I’ll choose a woman from this bar. Anyone. And then you decide”

Felix turned around with a smirk. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

Son Chaeyoung recognized you from the Composure offices as she was friends with both Mr. Park and Kang Seulgi. “Her” she pointed at you with an evil smirk.

Felix turned around and saw you. His heart fluttered a little bit when he saw you throwing your head back in a laugh with a drink in your hands, facing your friend Karina. He smiled and nodded. “Done”

“What?”

“Done. You’re on” he nodded at Son Chaeyoung. “You both are. But here are the stakes” he specified, making Mr. Park’s eyebrows arch. “After I win this bet, the pitch is mine”

“Agreed” Son Chaeyoung said.

“Mr. Park?”

“Agreed” he said. “You come to that party with a girl that’s really in love with you, Felix, and you can make the pitch to the De Lauers.”

The Chaeyoung’s looked at each other and sighed.

“To the De Lauers” Mr. Park said, raising a toast to the four of them.

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

“Okay guys, this is not going as I thought it would. I charmed my way with two guys in ten minutes. The first one was gay, and the second one was married.” you sighed, dropping your ass on the stool. “Saw the fucking ring on his finger and the wallpaper on his phone”

Ryujin rubbed your arm. “You’ll find him. Don’t worry. Here’s your Manhattan” she said, handing you the drink.

You noticed that your purse was not with you and you slapped yourself on the forehead. “Shit, I forgot my purse on the other side of the bar. I’ll be right back” you said, hopping off the stool.

You made your way to where the purse was, and grabbed it. You were about to walk to where your friends were until a blonde, handsome, freckled, and sexy guy was standing right in front of you. Your eyes widened.

“Hi” he said.

“Hi” you said, looking him up and down, while he did the same. “Y/N Y/L/N” you said and stretched your hand out.

He smiled and took it. “Felix Lee”

“Cute”

“Thank you” he said smugly.

You scoffed. “I meant your name”

“Thank you two times”

“Unattached?” you asked.

“Currently” he nodded, sipping his drink.

“Likewise”

“Surprising” he said.

“Psycho?”

“Rarely” he said and you hummed. “Interested?”

“Perhaps” you played hard to get.

“Hungry?”

“Starved actually” you said, twirling your hair with a finger.

“Leaving” he said confidently.

“Now?”

“Yep”

“Okay” you nodded. “Let me get my stuff then, Felix Lee”

“I’ll meet you at the door” he said, and walked up to the entrance with a smile on his lips.

You walked up to Karina and Ryujin and squealed. “Guys, I think I got one” you said.

“But he was married” Karina protested.

You laughed. “No, not him. The cute blonde who’s waiting at the door with the leather jacket”

Ryujin peeped from just above your head and gasped. “Holy cow. He’s really cute”

“I’m gonna check if he’s a keeper. He promised he wasn’t psycho, though” you said, grabbing your purse. “I’m doing this for you. Bye guys”

You walked through the crowd until you reached Felix, who put a hand on your back and led you outside. You walked up to a car that was right by the entrance, thinking it was his until he grabbed your hand and led you to a motorcycle parked right next to it.

You scoffed. “I… a bike?” you stammered.

“Yep. Here, I use the black one, and you the goofy-looking white helmet” he said, handing you the helmet with a smile.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “You always pick up girls like this? Cause I’m telling you it is not charming at all” you said, laughing.

“Come on Y/N Y/L/N” he said, and you grabbed the helmet putting it on your head. He then let out a cute giggle and knocked on the helmet with his knuckles softly. “Beautiful”

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

After you grabbed food, you headed to his apartment. He dropped his stuff on the kitchen table and offered to take off his jacket that was clinging to your shoulders.

“So, I never got to ask you this but uh… what do you exactly do for a living? Cause let me tell you, this is a great apartment” you said, looking around.

“I’m in advertising” he said, putting the coat on the hanger beside the door. “I work mostly with alcoholic beverages and athletic companies, and now our big break is with jewelry companies” he said, turning around to face you.

“Huh. That’s pretty good. I love it”

“You?” he asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“I work at Composure” you said, grabbing the bottle he offered to you.

His eyebrows raised at that. “Wow, fastest selling women's magazine in the US, that’s amazing” he smiled at you. “What do you write about? How to save a shopaholic’s life?”

You gasped. “Oh, wow. Calm down, sparky. I got a journalism degree from Columbia, thank you very much. My boss loves me and if I kiss her ass a little more, I will write about whatever the hell I want” you said proudly, sipping on your newly opened beer.

“Like shoes- Ow” he said, his comment earning a punch. He laughed and rubbed his shoulder.

“No, smarty pants. I want to write about politics. Or… alcoholic beverages and athletic gear” you teased and he laughed.

Felix smiled. “You’re mean. Do you bite?”

“Sometimes. I can if you want me to, freckles” you said with a glint in your eyes, that made his darken.

He licked his lips. “Do you want to go to my room?” he asked. “You know, it’s pretty much… comfy there”

You smirked. “Yeah, let me go to the bathroom, real quick”

You walked to the bathroom and locked yourself in there, stifling your laugh. You caught this playboy-like guy who was too cocky for his own good. You dialed Ryujin’s number and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Are you at his apartment? I can’t believe you, Y/N!” Ryujin squealed.

“Yes, yes. I got him”

“You’re not gonna sleep with him are you?” Karina asked.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Rina. I have self-control. Unlike other people”

Karina gasped. “That was mean. That hurt”

Meanwhile, Felix lit some candles and put them in his room, smirking at himself.

“You have to take down notes. Remember the article” Ryujin said.

“Yeah, I know, Ryu. I gotta go. I’ll text you guys the details then. Bye” you said and pressed the red button, finishing the call and straightening up your dress. This was going to be fun.

You got out of the bathroom and took in his room, all lit by candles while a slow R&B song was playing in the background.

“Wow, this is impressive” you said, grabbing the beer you had left on the stand.

He sat on the chest of drawers he had and patted the empty space. You smiled and sat down next to him, dropping your purse next to you and sipping on your beer. You two stayed in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, until you got bored of it, and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He let you for a couple of seconds until he pulled his head back a little with a groan. “Wait, let’s not go too fast” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He’s not as easy as I thought. Blinking several times, you nodded, fake blushing, trying to guilt-trip him into kissing you.

You tried to take a sip from your beer but he pushed it away and kissed the breath out of you. He made you stand up, your kiss never breaking. Wrapping your arms around him, you opened your mouth and welcomed his tongue. You felt the control slipping from your fingers and pulled away.

“We’re moving too fast” you panted against his lips.

He nodded but you kissed him again, and he followed your lead. The kiss was hungry and he grabbed your ass, making you moan a little loud against his lips. His hands dropped to your thighs, lifting you up a little and you both dropped on the bed. Felix grabbed your leg, caressing the skin there, gripping your flesh and it made you both pull away at the same time.

“Too fast” you said in unison.

You both sat up and looked at each other.

“We respect each other right?“ You asked.

“If you respect me, I respect you”

“Good” you said, and dropped a kiss on his lips.

A few minutes later, your cab arrived and you walked down the street opening the door of the taxi. You heard someone whistling and you looked up, seeing Felix in his balcony, smirking at you.

He waved at you and you waved back.

“Ah, you are already falling in love with me” he said, pushing his tongue against the inner side of his cheek.

You smiled from down the street and blew him a kiss. “I’m gonna make you wish you were dead. Poor guy”

And then you were gone, and he was back in his apartment. He turned around and bit his lip, noticing that you (purposely) forgot your purse on his chest of drawers.

“Smart girl” he said, with a nudge of his head.

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

Day 2

Felix dropped the purse on his office desk. Hyunjin and Jisung sat studying the bag, their eyes running all over the leather object.

“Have you looked inside of it?” Hyunjin asked.

He shook his head. “No, I waited to be with you so you could give me advice on how to play my next move” Felix said, sitting down on his chair.

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Dude you’re the expert with chicks here”

“I know. But you think she’ll bother if I put my hands inside her purse?” he asked, sipping on his coffee.

Hyunjin tried to grab it but ended up throwing it to the floor and all the things inside spilled on the floor. Jisung smacked the back of his head, making the elder grumble and rub the sore spot.

“Great job, knobhead” Felix said and the three guys kneeled down to check the things inside your purse. “Wait guys” he said as he looked at a white envelope. “What’s this?” he asked, opening it and he took out two Knicks game tickets.

His eyes widened and so did his friends’.

“She’s so hot. I don’t even have to see her face to know she is” Hyunjin said, clenching his eyes.

“That she is. But she’s also a smart little shit. She wanted me to find them” Felix said smugly, getting up and dropping them on his desk.

Jisung’s eyebrows arched. “Felix, you guys met when she had already her purse with her”

Felix didn’t pay him attention and smirked.

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

Meanwhile, your office was full of white roses, and you gasped looking at the scene. Ryujin next to you laughed. “Okay, what did you give him? A love spell?”

“What the hell is this?” you asked.

Karina searched the flowers for a card and found one, and read it out loud. “One hundred times more beautiful than a hundred roses. Where the fuck do you find these guys?”

You laughed and felt your heart flutter. No, wait. This was all planned. You rolled your eyes at yourself. “He works in advertising, of course he had to give me flowers with a catchy pick up line”

Ryujin laughed. “You think?”

You gasped. “This means he found the Knicks tickets” you said. Karina gasped. “I’m mean, I know. I’ll call him”

Just before you could dial his number, your phone rang.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Composure offices” you said, knowing it was him.

Felix put the phone on speaker and gave his friends a smug smile. “Hey, hey pretty girl. Received my flowers?”

You sighed. “I did. I got now a really embarrassing display of roses in my office” you said, rolling your eyes with a smirk on your face.

Felix laughed. “You are welcome, I had a really good time last night” he said charmingly. “I have your bag”

“Oh, I know. I forgot it. Such a klutz” you said, your friends stifling their laughs with their hands.

Felix sighed. “Well, you must need it back. You know, all the cash, credit cards… Knicks game tickets for tonight” he taunted. His friends gave him a thumbs up.

You fake gasped. “You are a very bad boy, Mr. Lee. You’ve been peeking through my bag! Haven’t they taught you manners?”

He scoffed. “No, absolutely not. My art director and pal Hyunjin, who’s such a dumbass, knocked it over by accident” he said and kicked Hyunjin’s leg without even looking at him.

“Ow! Yeah, I’m a dumbass, sorry” he said, wincing.

“Alright. I’m sorry, though. I’m going with someone else to the game.

Felix smirked. “Well, not anymore. You forgot your bag by ‘accident’? You obviously wanted me to go to the game. You just didn’t know how to ask. But save the begging, pretty girl, I’ll go with you”

You gasped internally. Cocky, you mouthed to your friends. “You are so full of yourself, tell me. Does that psychobabble work with everybody?” you asked, leaning forward on your desk.

“You tell me”

“You are so mean” Karina whispered.

You pressed your lips together, pretending to think about it. “Alright, you win, handsome. Meet me at the seventh avenue entrance. Don’t be late”

“You got it. Bye bye”

“Bye” you said and hung up the phone.

Ryujin and Karina let their laugh out. “He’s dead” Ryujin said.

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

It was Knicks night and you and Felix were sitting very close to the court. He was in awe.

You and Felix booed, cheered, yelled and clapped, you were both ecstatic.

An hour later, the game was about to end, the team calling for a 20-second-time and break began. That meant that the fan cams were on. It was time for the kissing cam and you both laughed at the couples kissing. You gasped when the camera pointed at both you and Felix and laughed, looking at each other.

You patted your cheek but he quickly grabbed your neck and planted a heavy kiss on your mouth. The crowd erupted in cheers as the kiss grew hotter and you pulled away, with a red face. He sat there licking his lips, proud of your reaction.

The break time was finished and the game began once again. An idea popped in your head.

“Lixie, babe?” you asked with a pouty face.

He didn’t even look at you. “What-what?” he asked.

“I’m kind of thirsty, Lix” you whined.

“Yeah okay” he said and continued cheering on the team.

You frowned and sighed. “Felix, can you get me a soda? I’m parched” you whined.

Felix couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She wants a soda right now? Just when the game’s ending? “I’ll get it right after the game, baby” he said, glancing at you.

“I’m really thirsty” you smiled at him with a little pout and he looked at you. “I’ll get it” with a sigh, you mumbled.

He made you stop. “No, hang on. I’ll get it” he sighed and ran quickly to the shop, up the stairs.

Felix ran to the shop and asked for a coke. When he finally got it, he went back to the bleachers.

“Here” he said, handing it to you and quickly stretching up his neck to see what he missed.

You took a sip and pretended to gag. “Ugh, Felix. I forgot. I wanted a diet coke. Not regular” you whined.

Felix looked at you and you noticed he was very irritated. He pursed his lips furiously. “I’ll- Wait a second” he said and got back to the shop, right after, the crowd started counting from 5 to 0.

When the player scored, Felix missed by a few seconds on the shop TV. Everyone cheered and he stood there, watching the TV furiously. Felix kicked an empty soda cup on the floor angrily. He had missed the most important part of the game.

Once they were out of Madison Square Garden, you grabbed onto Felix’s arm and sighed. “What an exciting game, dude” you said with a smile. “I’ve never had so much adrenaline in my body, let me tell you”

Felix sighed. “Yep, pretty good game” he said.

“Oh, too bad you missed it” you said with a cheeky smile and stopped a cab. He bit his lips and let out a little smile. She’s lucky she’s cute, he thought.

The cab stopped and he opened the door for you. You stood watching him. “So… I’ll see you later, huh?” you asked.

He nodded. “I hope so”

You smiled and handed him the soda cup. He kissed you holding your waist and then when he pulled away, he winked at you. You got inside the car and closed the door.

Felix stood there watching the cab speed off. “Nice” he said, drinking the rest of the soda.

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

Day 3

Felix was in a business meeting when his assistant peeked in and knocked.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Park. But Mr. Lee has an important call” she said with a wince.

He nodded. “Leave them a message, Yunjin please” Felix told her.

“It’s Y/N, Mr. Lee” she smiled.

He looked at Mr. Park for permission, and he sighed, nodding. “Make it quick”

Felix grabbed the phone and hit the accept call button.

“Hello?”

“It’s me! Baby!” You squealed.

“Uh, I’m in a business meeting right now, babe. I can’t call you now. Can I call you later, though?” he offered.

“It’s just that I miss you so much, baby-boo-boo-boo” you said with a baby voice. Ryujin and Karina were next to you and were holding onto each other, trying not to cackle.

“Well I miss you too” he said, with a smile, trying to ignore the baby voice.

“You busy tonight?”

“Uh, I’m not. Can we catch a movie or something? You can pick if you want” he said. “The cinema on the fourth is making a retro movie night” he said.

“A movie? My choice?” you squealed.

“Yeah”

“I’m so excited! I’ll call you later then, Lixie-Boo” you said.

“Bye, hon” he said, and hung up. A little smile was playing on his lips. “I think this is working, ladies and gentlemen” he yelled and clapped his hands, making Mr. Park shake his head with a little chuckle.

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

Movie night was on and the one you had picked was the most cringey you could find in retro-movie night: You’ve Got Mail.

You were eating popcorn and while you were enjoying the movie, you needed him to get irritated by your comments. “I always wanted a man like Tom Hanks” you said. “This is like my favorite movie of all time” you lied.

“Yeah me too” he said. You stopped eating. Shit, you thought, bad movie choice.

Someone shushed you from behind your seats and you kept quiet.

You bit your lip. “What are you thinking about?” you digged.

Felix forced a smile. “Movie. I’m thinking about the movie” he said, not bothering to look at you.

You smiled and played with his hair. “Yeah but what are you thinking about?”

He sighed, slightly enjoying the feeling of your fingers on his hair but hating the way you were trying to make conversation in the middle of You’ve Got Mail. “The movie”

You nodded and tried to think about your next move. “Okay, but what? Your mind’s completely blank?” you asked, and he closed his eyes, letting out a ragged breath. “Who is she?” you asked, putting your popcorn down, feeling your forehead purse into a frown.

Felix looked at you. “Who’s who?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“The girl you’re thinking about” You exclaimed.

“I can’t hear” the guy who shushed you before says.

“I’m not thinking about any girl, Y/N” he said.

You clicked your tongue. “I’ve dealt with enough liars! You can’t watch Meg Ryan and not think about another girl” you said.

People behind you were trying to shut you up but it didn’t work.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?” he asked in a whisper. You nodded and he sighed. “I’m thinking about… how damn beautiful you are. And how that beautiful face like yours can believe I’m thinking about another girl, while I’m here with you” he said. “And also, how damn good this movie is. So we’re going to continue watching it”

You squealed a little bit and hugged him. “Oh, Lix, my baby” you said and kissed his face a couple of times, leaning almost on top of him. “I love sharing this with you”

“Hey! I can’t see and I can't hear” the guy behind you said.

You whirled around in your seat furiously. “If you don’t shut up, my boyfriend here will kick your ass back to where you belong” you said smugly.

“Wait, Y/N” he tried, his eyebrows furrowing in desperation.

“Oh really? Let’s see what you got, pretty boy. Outside. Now” the man said.

Felix wanted the earth to swallow him up.

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

“Oh, Felix. Poor baby” you said, grabbing his face, sitting on the floor of the cinema entrance. His face was nestled between your breasts and he sighed contently, even if he was in pain.

“Wait. Lix let’s go to a hospital” you said. The bruise on his face was getting pretty bad and purple.

He grabbed your waist. “No, no. Stay. Stay right here”

“Okay” you said.

His face was rubbing your breasts and he let out a content moan. “Yes. Just stay still” he said with a smirk.

You laughed. “You perv”

He laughed and you grabbed his hair, lifting him from your chest.

“You’re fine. Come on” you said, getting up, offering your hands. He took them and stood up.

Felix smiled at you and dropped a long kiss to your lips.

“Let’s go Rocky” you whispered.

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

Day 4

Felix was planning a tranquil evening, to sit on his couch, watch the Knicks game and relax in his apartment with you. He decided that he was going to cook real nice for the both of you.

A knock startled his cooking and went to open the door.

“Come in, it’s open!” he yelled.

You got inside and smiled at him. “Hello, Lixie-Boo” you said.

He looked at you and his eyes widened. You were wearing a pretty baby blue dress. “Wow, you look gorgeous” he said.

“Thank you, sweet pea” you squealed and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

You looked at the table and saw the candles, the music in the background making it more nice than it already was.

You gasped. “Oh, honey. This is… too much, I love it” you said.

“Great! Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Go ahead and pour the wine” he said.

“I got you a couple of gifts” you said evilly. You opened the box you brought with you and inside laid a couple of teddy bears and a picture of you with the caption: you’re my, my, my, my lover.

His eyes widened. “Oh… yay” he said. What the hell is all this stuff? Is she quoting Taylor Swift to me?

“Here are two teddy bears. One of them says #1 lover because you are” you said pinching his cheek. “They’re called Lixie and Y/N. Oh! Like us” you said in a baby voice. “And then this picture of me, with Lover from T-Swift lyrics. Do you like it?” you asked.

Felix coughed. “Y-yeah, baby. Love’em” he lied. You kissed him and smiled.

“You’re so sweet. I’m gonna drop these in your room, wait up” you said.

Felix sighed once you were gone, wiping his face with his hands.

In his room, you barely contained your laughter but you tried to keep it down. Poor guy.

The Knicks game was on the TV and was about to start. Felix put the big tray of food and opened the lid. Inside was meat with veggies on it, a very nice decoration, and you hated to say, but you were impressed. Until an idea popped in the back of your head.

You pressed your lips together and let out a fake sob. “Oh, oh this is all my fault, Lix” you whispered, putting a hand over your chest.

He sat down next to you and his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened?” he asked, grabbing your hand.

“I’m– I’m a vegetarian” you sobbed. “It’s just that animal meat makes me sad” you said, fake tears escaping your eyes. The blonde sat frozen in his seat. “It’s-- it’s dead” you said.

He let out an irritated sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know” he muttered, shaking his head.

“It’s okay… this was beautiful. You’re beautiful” you said, wiping your fake tears and rubbing his cheek affectionately.

Later, you both found yourselves in a deli, eating veggie bowls, which Felix found disgusting, and making him completely miss the Knicks game.

You finished the food (who he labeled as cow-food), and he quickly ran to the TV to catch the Knicks game, only to find out it had already finished. He let out a grunt and dropped the remote on the couch. “Fuck” he sighed.

He let himself fall on the couch and you climbed over him, kissing the life out of him. Felix let out a surprised groan and grabbed your ass. You unbuttoned his shirt, a few buttons flying away. You couldn’t admit this to anyone, but you found him exciting.

He smirked against your lips and let his hands wander under your dress, letting his palms rest on your ass.

You wanted to up the game. “Does little Lix want to come out and play?” you groaned in his ear.

His eyes widened, while you kissed down his chest. “Uh, what?”

You lifted your head.

“Little Lix?” he asked, utterly confused.

“Well, we don’t know if he’s big or little, we’re gonna find out” you squealed and resumed kissing your way down to his crotch.

He lifted you up gently by your arm. “No, no. Baby. You can’t just… name my dick” he said with a frown.

Your eyebrows raised. “You… what are you saying? Do you want me to call it… big Lix? Cocky enough, baby?” you said in a baby voice. You almost laughed out loud at the look on his face.

“Uh… I’m-- big Lix is not ready to come out and play” he said, cringing at his own words.

You sighed with a smile. “Well, in that case. I better get going” you said and dropped a kiss to his lips. “Bye honey-bear”

When you were out the door, you snickered.

“It’s getting easier by the minute” you sing-songed with an evil laugh getting inside the elevator when a hand stopped the door from closing.

Felix smiled and got inside, grabbing your waist and lifting you up against the wall of the elevator, kissing you. His tongue got inside your mouth and tangled with yours. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked against your lips.

You breathed in and licked your lips. “Yep”

“Well, call me” he pecked your lips and then he was out of the elevator.

You grimaced once you made sure he wasn’t looking. “What the hell? This ain’t getting easier”

You needed to up your game, immediately.

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

Day 5

The next day in Felix’s office, Hyunjin and Jisung were discussing how you were getting weirder by the time the relationship went on.

“Okay, I thought you said Y/N was a goddess after the Knicks game, little Lix” Hyunjin teased, earning a punch on the shoulder from the blonde.

He laughed. “Well, that was the good Y/N, the smart, cool and sexy woman I met. Not this crazy, evil side she’s showing” he said.

“Maybe she’s bipolar--” Jisung started.

“Muffin!��

The three guys turned around to find you with a dog in hand.

“Y/N baby” he smiled at you, standing up and walking towards you. “We were just talking about you. You are looking absolutely gorgeous” he said.

“Oh, good things I hope, right baby boo?” you cooed.

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“These are my friends! Hyunjin and Jisung!” he said, pointing behind him and they waved at you.

You gasped. “Oh Lixie told me all about you guys”

“Lixie-Boo told all about you too” Hyunjin teased the blonde, who glared at him.

“Great, well look what I just got you” you sing-songed. “I got you a puppy! His name is… guess what?” you said, clapping your hands together.

He shrugged.

“Little Lix!” you squealed.

Jisung and Hyunjin snickered behind him.

He smiled and tried to think how the fuck he was going to survive six days more if this was going to keep up like this.

When he got home, he put Little Lix in the kitchen and put water and food ready for him. He grabbed his phone and saw his voicemail was full.

You got 17 new messages from Y/N Y/L/N.

“Oh shit” he said.

He listened to every single one of them and he face-palmed himself. This is getting even harder than I thought , he thought.

He got inside the bathroom to wash his face and opened the cabinet. He froze when he found a lot of feminine products and he closed it, turning around to find two toothbrushes and a lot of girly stuff scattered in the bathroom. Felix grabbed his hair and almost yelled out.

“Fucking shit”

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

Day 6

“Girls, I’m telling you. He’s not leaving me“ you said, eating from your ice cream pint.

“Are you being clingy?” Karina asked.

You nodded. “Like a bitch, yeah. I even supplied his bathroom with girly stuff, some of them I don’t even use. Then I gifted him teddy bears and I baby talk to him. I’m whiny and needy? How is he not leaving me?” you asked.

The girls laughed and continued eating ice cream.

“Either way, I gotta think about something before tomorrow” you said.

Ryujin sat up. “Wait, why not tonight?”

“It’s Poker night with his friends” you said. “Boys night”

“You’re giving him boys night?” she asked.

“They do it every week” you shrugged.

“Before… he met… you” she said.

“Ryujin, I love you”

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

“Bunny! I’m home!” you said, startling his friends and him.

Felix turned around and his eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, what are you doing here?” he asked, sitting up and putting the blunt he was smoking, in a plate.

“I just… I figured I could stop by and kiss you a little bit, huh? Your friends don’t mind if I steal you for about… an hour or so?” you asked.

He laughed nervously. “Honey, I told you… boys night” he said.

You pretended to be offended. “You… don’t want to see me? Do you- Oh! You think I’m crazy!” you said.

Felix’s eyes widened. “I- No! I don’t think you’re crazy, baby. I just want a boys night with--”

“Oh, I’m sure it was an excuse to hook up with other girls, and oh! I’m sure there’s one hidden here, probably in your bathroom” you fake cried. “I’m out of here, Felix” you said and walked out the door.

He followed you with Little Lix barking behind him.

“Hey, hey, hey. What was all that?” he asked, making you turn around.

You pressed the elevator button and sighed. “What?”

“You acting like a freaking maniac” he said.

You gasped and the elevator dinged. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t be with someone who thinks I’m mental. Bye, Felix” you said and the elevator doors closed but he pressed the button so they opened them again.

”No wait. Where’s the fun, cool, beautiful and sexy Y/N I knew? Huh?” Felix asked. “The one who wanted to be a serious journalist? You’re acting insane, like one second you’re up then you’re down!” he said.

You pursed your lips. “So I guess we’re over” you shrugged your shoulders with a glare.

“Fine!”

“Fine” you said and the elevator door closed. You smiled in victory and then it quickly fell. What the hell is happening?

Back in Felix’s apartment, Jisung and Hyunjin almost tackled him. “You’re going back, apologize and get back together with her” Jisung said. “Five more days, man. And that’s it” he said.

“No, wait. Hey. You saw how she acted back there” he said.

“Yes, but if you really want the pitch, then you’re going back to her, apologize and be her little bitch for five. More. days” Hyunjin stated.

“Do you want Son and Park Chaeyoung to be comfortable in their new office? The one that should be ours?” Hyunjin digged.

“No, of course not!” Felix said. “But what do I do? What do I tell her!?”

“Couples therapy! Literally anything” Jisung said.

“Couples therapy?” Felix asked.

This was getting way out of hand.

“Yes, now go!” Hyunjin patted his back and pushed him.

He sprinted off running to the stairs, jumping from three to three. He got to the door just in time when you got out of the building.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wait, baby boo” he said, cringing at his choice of words. “Forgive me, please. I don’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry” he said, kneeling on the ground.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. What the hell was this guy’s problem and why the hell why was he not running away from her?

“Can you give me another chance?” he asked, puppy eyes on.

“Haven’t you had enough?” you asked ironically, but you really meant it this time.

“I’m willing to do anything, Y/N. Please” he said, opening his arms.

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, making him stand up, kind of embarrassed that anyone walking down the street could see him like that.

“Like, what do you think about… couples therapy?” he asked.

A light bulb turned on in your brain. Couples therapy, huh?

“Oh, Felix. I know a therapist who’ll do wonders with you. When shall we start?” you said, intrigued about his request.

He nodded. “Tomorrow. Whenever you want” he said, desperately. “Whatever it takes”

“A kiss?” you pouted.

“Thank you, sweetheart” he said and kissed you almost making you tumble at how hard he kissed you. You had to admit, he was one hell of a kisser. “Thank you for understanding”

“Yeah, no problem, baby boo. But you’re still on probation” you said and walked away. “What the fuck did I get myself into?” you whispered to yourself.

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

Day 7

“If we’re really doing this, you’ll have to open up, Felix. You hear me?” you whined when you reached the ‘therapist’ apartment.

“Yeah, of course”

You knocked on the door and Karina appeared, wearing a white pajama pants and a shirt, with big ass glasses and a bun. “Y/N Y/L/N, and Felix Lee. Come in” she said with a formal voice.

Your eyebrows wiggled and tried not to laugh. You grabbed Felix’s hand and sat him down on the couch.

“So, before we start. I wanted to ask you how you were gonna pay for this session?” she asked.

You patted Felix’s back. “Sweetie?”

“Uh, yeah. How much is it?” he asked, grabbing his wallet from his jean pocket.

“Three hundred dollars the hour” she said calmly.

His eyes almost bulged out of his school when he heard the price that fell from Karina’s lips. Felix cleared his throat and reached for his wallet. Whatever it takes, then the pitch is yours. He handed Karina the bills and she cleared her throat.

“So, tell me, you guys. How long have you been seeing each other?” she asked.

“Seven days” you replied with a smile.

“Isn’t it too soon to be seeing a therapist?” Felix asked calmly.

You smiled at him. “Well, it isn’t a lifetime but it is--”

“It’s like a week” he said.

You fake gasped and looked at Karina. “Do you hear that tone? How can we not need a therapist when you’re snapping at me like that every goddamn second!” you said rather loudly.

Karina nodded. “How are things between you… I mean… sexually” she digged.

You laughed a little. “Oh, about that… he has a little problem” you said, winking at Karina. “If you know what I mean”

He shook his head. “No, Y/N. Wait. We haven’t had sex yet” he said. “And I don’t have a problem”

“Yes you do”

“No, no I don’t”

“Okay, okay. Look, the one night that we even thought about having sex you called my dick little Lix, or- or big Lix” he said, turning completely to face you. “Without even seeing it!”

“I thought it was beautiful” you said, close to fake crying.

“I see, Felix” Karina said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “When was it that you first realized you were attracted to other men?”

You had to contain your laugh at this. “Oh, it… that’s serious” you agreed.

“What? No! I love women, why-- okay. No, that it’s clearly not what happened” Felix stammered irritatedly.

“I’m hearing a lot of anger that’s been swirling inside of you for a long time, Felix” Karina said, folding her hands together.

You gasped. “Like a rage-aholic”

“No, I’m not a rage-aholic” he shouted.

“Take a deep breath, sweetie” you said, putting your hand on his arm.

“I gotta ask you this one question” Karina said. “Are you ashamed of Y/N?”

He was taken aback by the sudden question.

“Of course he is” you said.

“No, I’m not ashamed of you, Y/N” he said, putting a hand on your back.

Karina cleared her throat. “Then why don’t you… take her to meet your family, for example?” she suggested. You wanted to kill her.

Felix nodded. “Yeah, let’s go do that. You can meet my whole family, let’s go to Staten Island, you can meet them” he smiled.

“Would you like to go to Staten Island?” Karina asked you.

No! Of course not!

“Yes”

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

Day 8

He parked his bike in the driveway of his family house and you were greeted by his mother once you got inside of the house.

“Oh hello, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you!” her mother appeared with a baby in her arms.

“ Bullshit! ” you heard from the patio.

“My dad and uncles play cards every hour of the day” Felix laughed.

“ Bullshit! ” you heard again.

“You are as pretty as Felix described you on the phone the other--”

“Mom!” Felix whined.

You laughed and shook her hand. “Well, the pleasure is mine, Ms. Lee” you said.

“ Bullshit! ”

“Sweetie!” she scolded over her shoulder. “Excuse me honey, I gotta make my husband shut up for a little bit, here” she said and handed Felix the baby he was holding, who you assumed was his cousin.

Felix grabbed him happily and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight of him holding a baby.

“I’m gonna get him cleaned up, you go out back” he said and dropped a kiss to your lips and then he was gone.

You took a deep breath and went out to the patio, finding who you assumed was his dad and his uncles. His mother saw you and dropped the cards on the table. “Everyone! Guys, everybody meet Y/N, our Felix’s girl!” she squealed.

His dad smiled and shook your hand. “Well, Felix described you as ‘beautiful’ but his words weren’t enough” he complimented you.

You blushed a little and giggled. “Well thank you, Mr. Lee”

“No worries, honey” Mr. Lee winked.

After they introduced you to the whole family, they gave you a couple of cards to play with them.

“The game is called ‘Bullshit’ as you may have heard. And we’re just in the lightning round, sweetie, you came just in time” Mr. Lee said.

Felix suddenly came in and smiled. “Well look at this. I’m gonna beat everyone’s asses, including yours baby” he winked at you, sitting down and grabbing himself some cards.

“I don’t really know how to play”

“Well, here’s the trick. You have to get rid of all the cards in your hand” His dad said.

You nodded and looked at your cards.

“Alright I’m gonna throw and say I have two aces. What do you say?” his dad asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at your cards in hand, noticing you had three aces, which meant he could only have one. “I say bullshit”

“What did you say?” he smiled.

“I say… bullshit!” you said and everyone around you cheered.

After a couple of rounds where everyone except Felix was helping you out to win just to make him lose, you found yourself having fun, more than you had expected and more than the fun you’ve got this couple of months. The feeling was strange.

“Okay, I’ve got two kings”

You looked around and his family shook their heads. Felix caught them cheating and gasped.

“You all are cheating!” he said, making all of you laugh. “Baby! That’s treason!” he laughed.

You just laughed at him and showed him your cards. “Yep. But I won!”

“And that makes him have the lowest score out of all of us in Bullshit thanks to you, for the first time ever! I say we expect you to come here sooner” his mom said, standing up and drawing his score on a chalkboard.

You laughed. “Why? Were all his other girlfriends Bullshit losers?” you asked, sipping on your drink.

“What other girlfriends? He’s the first girl he’s ever brought home” her mom said and hugged you.

First girl he’s ever brought home? You felt special. You hated to admit it, but it was true.

“Don’t you break his heart” she whispered with a little smile and walked away.

It’s a little too late for that now.

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

After the game, Felix offered to take you for a ride to meet the island on his bike. You accepted, and the blonde took you everywhere. For ice cream, for lunch, to walk in the park, down the port, everywhere. He even taught you how to ride his bike. You couldn’t help it but you felt the butterflies kicking your stomach everytime he smiled or looked at you. And he felt the same. He felt at peace that the fighting and craziness was over for good.

At a certain hour, it started to rain, soaking you from head to toe. You arrived at his home, you rode the bike while he was behind you.

He got you inside of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

“Alright madam, let’s have a shower, what do you say?“ he asked and turned on the hot water.

You nodded and sat on the sink, thinking about why the hell did you accept to do this to this guy. He was perfect and so good with you. If you ever told him the truth, he’d hate you, and you’d lose him.

“You can shower first if you want” he said, drying his hand with a towel.

You bit your lip and sighed.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, putting his hands on your legs, his eyes finding yours.

You smiled at him, caressing his cheek. “It’s more than okay” you said in a low voice.

He kissed your palm and pinched your leg a little. “Then tell me what’s wrong. You don’t seem okay”

You let out a breath. “I think… when your mother hugged me today, like… she really hugged me” you said, your eyes getting teary. “For winning a game at Bullshit. Like I was a part of the family” you said, a tear flowing down your cheek.

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed and he put a hand on your cheek. “But that’s a good thing, baby. Smile for me” he said with a little grin, poking your cheek with his pointer finger.

You smiled for him and his grew bigger. Your noses were almost touching and it confirmed for the both of you. Both bets were a huge mistake.

He brought your head closer to his and kissed your lips. You pulled away and searched for something in his eyes, something that would give you a red flag. You found just a glint and lust in his eyes. You kissed him again, opening your mouth for his tongue to come inside your mouth and sighed at the feeling.

Felix pulled away and you lifted your hands up, so that he could take your shirt off. He complied and saw that you weren’t wearing a bra. His eyes darkened and you hopped off the counter to take his shirt too.

You dropped it to the ground and then went to unbuckle his jeans while he did the same to yours. He pushed your panties to the ground and he pushed his underwear, too.

Felix grabbed your thighs, hoisting you up, making your legs wrap around his torso and kissed you again. He got inside the shower and pressed you against the cold tiles. His mouth on yours felt heavenly, and with every brush of his tonguey you got more and more wetter by the second.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” he whispered against your neck. He kissed a couple of hickeys on it and then came back to your mouth.

If anyone walked past the bathroom, they would’ve heard the breathy moans the two of you emitted and the slapping of skin on skin sound. Once you came and he did on your stomach, you stayed staring at each other. Guilt was in his eyes, thinking that you, a beautiful woman he had managed to fall in love with, and probably she did as well, was part of a stupid bet to get a stupid pitch.

You dropped your forehead on his and sighed with a smile. “That was amazing, Lix. Little Lix down there wasn't so little, huh?” you joked, making him laugh out loud.

“Well, what can I say? I’m full of surprises” he said.

You got down and you washed each other. As his arms came around you from behind and you couldn’t help but feel like shit.

If only he knew.

In the meantime, Felix rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving a little peck on your skin. He closed his eyes as soon as his lips touched you, feeling the guilt and regret wash over him.

He didn’t know how he was going to tell you, but there was one thing he knew it was certain: he didn’t deserve you.

At least, that’s what he thought.

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

Day 9

The ferry arrived at Manhattan and he drove his bike back to your home. He got down from the bike and walked you to the building entrance.

“Well, this is home” you said, dropping his hand.

He nodded and smiled at you. “Uh, Y/N? I wanted to ask you back at Staten but uh… my boss is throwing this party for the diamond account I was telling you about and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? You know… as my date?” Felix asked, clearly nervous. “As my girlfriend” he stated.

You smiled at him and put your hand on his cheek. “Are you calling me your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I am” he said, sure of himself.

You pressed your lips together. “Tomorrow will be the tenth day of seeing each other.”

“I know” he said with a sigh. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow huh?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Should I dress fancy?” you asked.

“As fancy as you want… but still fancy” he said.

You nodded. “Perfect” you pressed a kiss to his lips and when you pulled away, you hugged him. He felt so good. You didn’t want to let him go just yet, or tell him what you were doing, or him to find out via the magazine.

As you pulled away, he kissed your head and let you go inside.

“Bye” you blew him a kiss.

“Bye”

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

Day 10 - final day-

You barged inside Seulgi’s office with a very worried face on you. You let out a breath and sat down on the couch.

“Seulgi? I can’t- I can’t write this article” you stated.

Her eyebrows furrowed and sat down on her chair. “What? Why not? Is your computer broken or something? Figure it out”

“No, it’s not that” you said. “I just… I’ve got to know this guy. He’s amazing. He doesn't deserve this, I really like him, Seulgi. Please” you pleaded.

“Okay. Who’s the boss here?”

“You” you sighed.

“Then you write what I tell you to write. And that means the article” she said strictly, not even bothering to look at you while she was paging down a magazine. “You’ll do the article, because you are a professional. That’s what professionals do”

“Yes I am” you whispered.

“Great. Now go. I want the article in less than 48 hours”

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

The night fell and Felix arrived at your house. He was wearing a fancy tux, but he managed to keep it a little less formal. He took a deep breath and cracked his neck. Felix grabbed his phone and sent you a text.

Lix: I’m here xx

He blushed at the thought of you on a fancy dress. His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

You: be right down. Wait up xx

His heart picked up speed when he heard the door of your building opening. You stood there with a yellow fancy dress with an open cut back. You did a little twirled and took a second to admire him. He was so beautiful, it hurt your eyes.

The chauffeur from his car smiled at the interaction.

“Hey” you said timidly.

He just stared, he couldn’t believe you were his.

“Wow, you are so beautiful” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You blushed and ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re looking good too, sparky” you said putting your arm around his and getting inside the car.

Once you reached the museum, you could only gawk at how much diamonds were used for this party. It almost hurt your eyes.

“Wow, okay. This wasn’t what I expected at all” you said, looking up only to find a very big, sparkly chandelier.

Felix nodded, chuckling at your face. “You should come more often to these things with me”

You gasped and elbowed him. “What? So you can see me with a fancy dress more often?”

He shrugged. “Maybe” he teased, making you laugh.

Hyunjin and Jisung appeared wearing very formal suits and they waved at you. “Hey guys” you said.

“Oh, great. Stay with them, I’ll go grab us some champagne” he said, kissing your cheek.

You smiled at him and watched him leave while Jisung told an incredibly boring story of how he managed to get a date.

“Uh, guys. I’ll go sit by the table, there are some snacks there. If you’ll excuse me” you said, and excused yourself, really not wanting to deal with those noisy boys.

Hyunjin and Jisung stood watching you when they felt hands on their shoulders. The Chaeyoung’s were staring at them with an evil grin on them.

“News for you guys” Son Chaeyoung said.

They looked at each other. “We don’t want to deal with you snakes today” Jisung said.

Park Chaeyoung scoffed. “I just wanted to let you guys know that we know that Felix cheated” she said.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean cheated?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“We know he told this girl about the bet even before they started dating” Park Chaeyoung said.

Jisung and Hyunjin looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“We’ll go tell Mr. Park if you don’t hurry up” Son Chaeyoung said, and then, they were gone.

“Shit, we gotta do something” Jisung said.

They ran to the table you were sitting and sat down next to you, startling you mid-eating a snack. You furrowed your eyebrows at their state.

“Hey, Y/N. We know you know about the bet. Okay? And we need you to play dumb when Mr. Park asks you if you fell in love with Felix” Hyunjin said.

Your stomach dropped. A bet? What bet? You were about to ask until it dawned in you. This was all a bet. Felix made a bet, in which he had to make you fall in love with him (in which he succeeded).

“A bet?” you asked in a small voice.

Jisung nodded. “Yeah, the bet… you know, he’d get the pitch if you fell in love with him” he said.

You played dumb. “Of course” you faked a smile. Internally you were just trying to keep the tears to yourself.

Meanwhile…

Felix was heading to their table when Kang Seulgi intercepted him.

“Hello Felix. What a pleasure it is to see you” she said with a smile.

He nodded and smiled at the elderly woman. “Yeah, nice to see you too. I gotta head back to my table, there’s this beautiful woman waiting for me-- right there” he said with a smug grin and pointed at you.

Seulgi perked up and gasped. “Y/N? Oh she’s my How-To girl in Composure” she said.

“Your How-To girl?” he asked confusedly.

“Yes. Right now she’s working on an article called How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days” she said and his smile visibly dropped. You were just using him for… an article? Her laugh made him come back from his thoughts. “This poor guy she’s been pretending to date-- wait, she’s actually dating this guy trying to scare him off by making mistakes girls do when--” when she saw the face that Felix and she stopped talking, realizing he was the guy you were dating. “Oh… oh, I’m sorry” she whispered and excused herself.

He pressed his lips together and downed his champagne glass. He saw you getting up from your chair, grabbed your purse and headed for the exit. Felix followed you, steam flying out of his ears.

When you reached the street you heard his shouting. “No, no, no. Y/N Y/L/N get back here” he said.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him.

“You used me! Just to get a stupid fucking pitch! You played with my feelings, you made me believe you actually care about me” you yelled at him.

Your words would’ve hurt him if he wasn’t angry enough about the article thing.

“I used you? You drove me insane for that article from your stupid magazine, okay?” he said angrily.

“You told people you could make me fall in love with you, like I’m just some random girl that needed saving, you backstabbing jerk” you said, hitting him with your purse.

Felix stood, pressing his lips together, figuring out what to say next. “So that was what I was, huh? A stupid guinea pig you could use for your experiments?”

“Yeah and I was just some girl you picked up from a bar because you feel bad for her, sitting all alone with a drink in her hands” you said more calmly.

He chuckled ironically. “Well, you did it. Good job. You wanted to see if you could lose a guy in 10 days, congratulations. You just lost him” he said, and turned away from you.

“No, I didn’t, Felix”

He turned back to face you.

“Because you can’t lose what you never had” you cried out.

He watched as you turned away and called a cab. His heart was hurting so much. Felix took a shaky breath in and headed back to the party.

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

Day 11

“Well, this wasn't what I was expecting” Seulgi said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “But it’s better” she said gladly.

You chuckled and smiled at her. “I’m glad you like it”

“Now this is my time to free you from my leash. You can write whatever you want now” she said, putting your recently printed article in a folder.

Your eyebrows perked up at her saying. “That means I can write like… about politics, economics, religion, or--”

“No, Y/N. Whatever you want means what Composure is about, shoes, dramas, what’s new in Oscar de La Renta’s new dresses, you get what I mean” Seulgi said, flicking her wrist at you.

This wasn’t what you expected. Writing an article about a guy you did end up falling in love with wasn’t even worth it. In the end, Kang Seulgi had tricked you into making you write whatever she wanted.

You nodded and sighed. “Thank you for the opportunity, Seulgi” you said slowly. She smiled at you. “And thank you for making it easier for me to turn it down” you said, heading for the door. “My resignation letter will be arriving at your mail very soon” you said and then you were out of the door, leaving Seulgi shocked to her very core.

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

Felix was in his office, Little Lix in his arms and he let out a sigh, looking at the Knicks game he did not attend. The tickets were laying on his desk, he had planned to give them to you after the party but that did not end up well.

A knock on his door startled him. “Hey, my man. I’ve got something for you” Hyunjin said, sitting down on a chair.

He saw it was a Composure magazine and he let out a sigh.

“I’m not gonna read that”

“No, you should” he said. Felix just shook his head and dropped Little Lix on the floor. “Okay. You win. I’ll read it to you” Hyunjin said and Felix was about to protest but he held his hands up. “ I’ve lost a guy. And I don’t know why. What went wrong? When I started writing this month’s column, I wanted to commit those certain silly dating mistakes we all commit at some time. But what I didn’t realize was that I was making the biggest mistake of my life ” he said, he lifted his eyes to watch the blonde, who was looking at the floor, with glassy eyes. “Here, read it. Trust me” he said, dropping the magazine on his desk and then he was out of his office.

He sighed and grabbed it, turning to the page where your article was. He started reading and he noticed some important lines: “ I lost the only guy I’ve ever fallen for ”; “ Best 10 days of my life ”, and one that he wasn’t expecting at all. “ This is my last article for Composure ”

His eyebrows furrowed and an idea popped in his head.

A few minutes later, he was running down Composure’s office asking everyone where the hell was your office located. He won a few glares from most of the girls but right now, he didn’t give a fuck.

He found it, and noticed it was empty. Fucking shit, Felix internally cursed. He saw a woman standing right next to her office.

“Excuse me, Ma’m” he said.

Ryujin turned around abruptly. “Holy crap. You’re Felix”

“I know. Tell me where’s Y/N” he said urgently.

“She quit” Karina appeared from behind him.

He turned around and noticed a familiarity with the girl.

“She’s got an interview right now, in Washington” Ryujin said.

“When?”

“Like, right now. She’s leaving right now” Ryujin said, checking her watch.

He turned to leave but not before he turned to face Karina. “You’re not a therapist aren’t you?”

She looked confused until she burst out laughing. “No, I’m not”

“Good job. You owe me 300 dollars”

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

You leaned your head on the taxi window, letting out a sigh, thinking about the events that took place that week. You knew that Composure wasn’t the best option for you since Seulgi had always done the same shit over and over again, making you think you could write about something more interesting than fashion and then taking your emotion with her. You rubbed your forehead and allowed yourself to think about Felix. There wasn’t a time that you didn’t regret what happened, but looking at the other side, he made a bet too.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you reached the Brooklyn bridge and saw someone riding a very familiar bike, wearing a very familiar helmet. Oh shit, that’s Felix.

“Sir, please pull over” Felix yelled.

You gasped at the scene. “What-- Felix? What are you doing?” you yelled. “Sir, pull over please?”

“Are you crazy, woman? We’re in the middle of the bridge” the chauffeur said.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not feeling well, I think I’m about to puke”

“Alright, you win” he grumbled.

You got out of the car and saw him pulling the helmet over his head. “What the fuck is this Felix?” you yelled at him.

He sighed and handed you the magazine.

“Is it true?” he asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Dammit, Y/N, what you wrote in the magazine. Or were you just trying to sell a magazine?”

“I meant every word, Felix” you said, your eyes getting teary. “But that doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“It does, and you’re running away” he said.

“I’m not!” You yelled out in a high-pitched voice.

“Yes, you are. To Washington” he said.

You rolled your eyes, pinching your eyebrows. “Yes, but it’s an interview. Besides, what do you care?”

Felix was taken aback by it. “What do I care? I fucking love you Y/N. But I need to be sure it’s true”

“I already told you. It’s true and I… I love you too, Felix. But--” you said-

“But what?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

“I can’t write here. I applied for a job where I know I can write about whatever the fuck I want without a bitch that tells me I need to write what it’s accord to my gender” you said, and turned away to get back to the taxi.

“Bullshit”

You stopped in your tracks. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit. You heard me” he said, stepping closer to you.

You couldn’t move. He reached until your noses were practically touching. He handed a couple of bills to the taxi driver and told him to send your bags back to your apartment.

“You’re having alternate transportation from now on” he said.

You sighed and looked at him, your eyes watery.

“Really? Are you serious?” you asked with a broken chuckle.

“You bet I am” he said and put his hands on your face, bringing you to a passionate kiss. You melted on it and put your arms around his neck, sighing into it. You felt complete. Finally. “I love you, so much” he said against your lips, letting his nose rub against yours.

“I love you, I love you, I love you” you mumbled, each ‘i love you’ with a kiss.

“Okay, so are you two gonna let me drive back to the ladies apartment or what?” the taxi driver grumbled, making you two laugh.

You couldn't believe how perfect this moment was. How it all started with a bet and an article that was meant for you two to find each other.

Fin.

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

i hope you liked it :) there are more Felix's fics coming in, i've been pretty busy

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz smut #skz imagines #felix x reader #felix x female reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix #skz felix #skz x felix #felix #felix lee #lee felix smut #felix smut #felix fluff #how to lose a guy in 10 days

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baronessvonglitter · 1 month ago

Text

Holiday Heat

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Only one bed/forced proximity trope (with a dash of sunshine x grumpy because we love a cantankerous Joel). Age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel's in his 50s). Strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving). Sleeping together to stay warm. Unprotected p in v. Fingering. Reader has very little description apart from having hair long enough to get in her eyes. No use of y/n. Please lmk if I've forgotten anything!

Author's note: It was my pleasure to step in to gift this fic to @frannyzooey for the @pedrostories Secret Santa exchange! I hope you had a great holiday and have a wonderful new year, hon! ❤️Also, huge shoutout to @pedrorascal who so generously created the ✨gorgeous✨ banner for this story!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wind and snow roar outside as the taxi pulls up to the last motel for the next hundred miles. The driver doesn't dare to drive any further in the snowstorm, and offers to bring you to a place where you and your fellow passenger, a gruff, unsmiling man named Joel, to stay warm and have a roof over your head.

"This place is a shithole," he grumbles as you're pulled to a stop.

"It's quaint," you say, refusing to let his sour attitude ruin what's left of your holidays.

You're both heading home for the holidays: you're returning from your senior year at college and he reluctantly admitted he's returning home as well from an extended trip north to visit his brother.

Despite the fact that you're both Austin citizens just trying to get back to your loved ones, Joel remains a total grinch. You've had to endure this man the entire drive from DFW airport. He sat in the aisle across from you on the flight down from Nashville, sighing and making exasperated grunts every time a baby cried or a young person took a selfie. His legs jittered with impatience. You took pity on him and offered him a CBD gummy, hoping to ease whatever stress he was under but he brushed you off with an annoyed groan.

When you found out there were no connecting flights to Austin, you and Joel were the last in line for a car rental. And of course, the last one was rented out to a couple in line ahead of you.

You saw this as an opportunity to help your fellow man, especially as it was the holidays. But all Joel did was shrug when you offered to split a taxi to whichever hotel was closest.

"It's not the Hilton, but it'll do for tonight," you tell him, persisting in your sunny outlook, hoping it will catch on.

The bored-looking eighty-year-old man in the motel office tells you that due to high demand and the inclement weather, there's only one room left, with a single bed.

"We'll take it," you bounce on the chance, much to Joel's chagrin, offering your credit card. Your surly traveling companion offers to split the room, but not without complaint.

"No way in hell am I sleeping on the floor," he says as soon as he steps into the room. There's a stale stench of cigarettes that the cinnamon air freshener on the small round table can't mask.

"Of course you're not. We'll just.. divide the bed. I'm good at staying on my side."

"You'd better be. I don't need you grabbin' onto me in the middle of the night 'cause you're havin' a nightmare or somethin'."

"You wish." It's the only thing you tell him that has some sting behind it.

"Just don't steal all the blankets, sweetheart. Gonna need 'em with this deep freeze comin' through."

"I'm gonna shower first if that's all right with you. I need to warm up." You grab your pajamas from your bag.

"Don't use up all the hot water," he calls out before you close the bathroom door.

"If there's no hot water to spare we could shower together." You glance behind your shoulder, eager to see his reaction.

The look on Joel's face is priceless as he nearly chokes on his next breath. "What? Are you out of your mind? There's no way I'm showerin' with you!"

You grin. "Gotcha."

You step out, hair still damp, towel wrapped around you, shyly going back into the room. "I forgot my panties," you say softly, going to your bag.

Joel tries not to stare too much, but it's a challenge.

"Turn around," you tell him so you can have privacy.

"Go change in the bathroom."

"I had a hot shower, it's still humid. I can't get dressed in there. Just close your eyes."

He grunts but accedes to your request, leaning back against the headboard as he puts his hands over his eyes. His heart is pumping madly, listening to the rustle of clothes as you get changed. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts instead of wondering what the shape of your body looks like.

Relief is a brief respite before he sees what you're wearing to sleep. He thought you'd wear something comfortable and decent, like those fuzzy plaid pajamas girls your age like to wear during the holidays, but instead you're in an oversized t-shirt, the hem down to the middle of your thighs, revealing your bare legs. He puts a pillow on his lap to hide his growing erection.

You get onto your side of the bed. "The shower's free if you want it."

Joel swallows hard before he forces himself to think about something other than you in the bed with him. "Yeah, uh, thanks," he says gruffly, his voice strained. He quickly gets up, trying to hide his aroused state, and gathers his pajamas before he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. For good measure he locks it.

"Get it together, Miller," he tells himself, splashing some cold water on his face. He can't deny the effect you have on him, but he also knows it's impossible to act on it. He barely knows you. You could have a boyfriend or a husband for all he knows, though there's no ring on your finger.

He showers, hoping to stay in as long as he can to avoid you. But it's a shitty motel after all, and soon he runs out of hot water and has to rinse the shampoo from his hair under the icy cold spray.

Dried off and clothed he steps back into the room and finds you on the bed, rubbing lotion onto your arms and legs. The sight nearly takes his breath away. He tries to look away but his eyes are drawn to your glistening skin.

"Good shower?" you ask, catching a whiff of his body wash, something fresh and woodsy. From lowered lashes you check out how he looks in his sweatpants.

"Yeah," he replies. "Outta hot water though. Since you used it all up."

You roll your eyes and go back to applying your lotion.

"Smells nice," he says, sitting close to you.

"Thanks. It's coconut."

The sweet scent hangs in the air as he watches you spread the white lotion across your skin, giving rise to lewd thoughts about what other thick white substances would go well on you. The coconut aroma, the sight of you touching yourself, the forced proximity and having to share a bed.. it's all sensory overload.

"I like coconut," his voice is thick with restraint.

Your hands stop and you hand him the bottle, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "Will you help me?"

He takes the lotion from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours a moment. "Where do you want me to start?"

"My legs," you tell him, spreading them slightly as you lean back.

Heat pools in Joel's groin and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. He squeezes out some lotion onto his palm and kneads it into your shin and calf, his touch gentle but firm, lightly massaging. He spreads it up to your knee, brushing against the tickly spot right beneath and smirking when you try to stifle a sound.

"Feels nice," you eke out.

"Your skin is so smooth," he murmurs, eyes drinking in the sight of you looking both relaxed and wanting. His hands move over your thighs as they part and he realizes you're not wearing panties after all. His brain goes haywire for a moment, unsure if he should call attention to your undressed state or not.

The scent of your arousal reaches him, and he dares a glance between your thighs. His dick pulses when he sees the telltale sheen at the apex of your inner thighs. His eyes meet yours and there's a charge, a current that passes between you.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

It's too much, too fast, but the part of you that doesn't care wins out, falling for his low, silky remark.

"Joel.. put your mouth on me," you whisper, legs parting further, an open invitation.

His eyes darken to nearly black, all semblance of restraint breaks as he leans forward, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath warm on your inner thighs. "As you wish, sugar," he rumbles, placing a soft kiss on your soft flesh. His kisses move higher and higher up, and he gently moves your legs over his shoulders as his kisses get more persistent.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your belly and the mounds of your breasts, your nipples hard in anticipation. Willfully trapped beneath him, you're at his mercy when he finally buries his face in your cunt, gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

His tongue runs over your soft, saturated folds, tasting you and listening to the sounds of your moans and gasps. He laps at your softly, then adding more pressure, dipping his tongue inside and swiping at your clit, teasing you just enough to get you screaming for more. A strange sense of tenderness surfaces among the lust of the moment as he brings you to life. There's no denying there's something inherently sweet and affectionate about the lascivious act.

Joel can't get enough of your taste, your smell, the way you feel against his mouth as you desperately grind against him. He's lost in the moment, his every sense consumed by you. Hearing you panting his name he hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, and he gladly licks up the nectar you gush out.

"Oh! Joel! Keep doing that!" you gasp, tugging at his greying locks. His mouth is hot against your pussy, tongue stiff and pointed, soft and wet. The pleasure seems neverending. Just when you think you know the pattern, he switches it up, licking harder or softer, tracing shapes with the tip of his tongue. "Please.. don't stop.. I'm gonna.."

Pleasure blossoms from within, too big to keep in, and you come apart beneath him.

There's a feeling of ownership, something dominant and masculine and protective in Joel as he works you through another one, his hips rutting against the bed in need of his own release. At last he moves over you, bodies pressed close as he kisses you for the first time. It's sweet and soft, the taste of you still on his tongue, tangy and sweet.

"Thank you," you sigh, your foreheads touching, breath mingling.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart," he says quietly, brushing loose strands of hair from your forehead.

You're still feeling the lingering traces of pleasure, but even you can feel the cold seeping into the room. "Get under the covers with me," you tell him, and giggle at the speed with which he pulled both of you under the western-themed duvet.

Clothes fly off, thrown over the sides of the bed, landing in haphazard piles. Joel slots himself between your legs again. Desire grows bright in him, making him feel like he's burning from the inside out, starving for the taste and feel of you.

Your body is a perfect fit for him, the glorious slide of his flesh into yours causing you both to cry out. He's completely sheathed within you, surrounded by your perfect, tight, wet heat. Thrusting slow at first, he watches your expressions, planting little kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, drinking up your moans as his tongue slips between your lips.

"More," you whisper as his lips graze your neck, gently biting your ear lobe, and you're rewarded with a more forceful pace as he spreads you open, angling your hips up to get in deeper, finding that sacred spot within that makes you see God. He plants one hand on the headboard above you for leverage as his other hand kneads your breast, tweaking your nipple as your own hands grip his sides, digging your nails in as you blissfully curse with each push of his hips.

"That's the spot, ain't it?" he grunts above you. "Right.. here."

Stars collide behind your eyes as he gently glides over your G-spot. His lips curve into a smile when you clench around him, but he slips out before he can come, replacing himself with three fingers. "Come on them, sweetheart. Come on my fingers then you can have my cock again."

You're lost in bliss as he glides his fingers in, curving to get that spongy spot, eager to make you scream. You bring your own fingers to your clit, gently pinching and rubbing until you feel your climax begin in your extremities, gathering pressure within until it's released, your orgasm shattering you with Joel's name on your lips.

He gives you a moment to come back before he lays down, letting you straddle him. Though he was just inside you, it's still a stretch to fit around him, and you slide down slowly before you're comfortable enough to start riding.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmurs, large hands on your hips. "Do what you need to do to come on my cock, baby."

In a delicious haze of pleasure you ride him, switching up the pace, going slow and deep before slamming down on him, making him groan as he tries to hold back. Your slick is pooling on his groin, coating his balls. Holding your hips steady he rams up into you, eager for you to come all over him again.

You're positively feral at this point, shaking and crying out as you come harder than any other time before, and Joel follows soon after, spilling inside of you, his dick twitching.

Hours later you're curled up together under the thick blankets, sharing and savoring what warmth you've generated.

"Thank god for this storm," Joel murmurs, holding your back close to his chest as he spoons you.

"That's the first positive outlook you've had all day," you smirk, snuggling against him.

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

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reidsmanuscript · 13 days ago

Text

Cracks in the System

Summary: What happens when a string of murders tied to the District Attorney's office lands on the BAU's desk, a high Spencer Reid struggles through withdrawal, and reader, the genius A.D.A., stumbles upon Reid's darkest secret? Tensions rise as professional and personal boundaries blur, leading to revelations that could shatter them both. Pairing: Spencer reid x lawyer!reader Genre: HEAVY ANGST, a little bit of comfort, open-bittersweet-ending Tw: spencer's addiction arc, no y/n but reader has a lastname and a nickname bc it would be impossible otherwise, mental health issues, mention of food and skipping meals?, imppliead reader's past with drugs and abuse (not graphic tho), canon typical cm violence, reader dislikes gideon as father figure wc: 9.2k! A/N: i always HATED how reid´s addiction got portrayed so here´s my take on it, english is not my first language part I - part II - part III - ... - masterlist

　　　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　　　

In the chill of autumn morning, while the BAU reunited for the debriefing of a case where their help had been specially requested per the District Attorney, old college friend of Hotch, a string of murder had been recently connected due to the victim’s correlation to the office.

Morgan, Prentiss, Gideon, and Hotch sat in their usual spots, reviewing the files as JJ prepared to brief them. Spencer Reid entered late for the second time that week, a distant look in his eyes, his demeanor unusually absent. No one acknowledged his lateness.

JJ took it as her cue to begin. “A string of murders have been committed around the capitol's perimeter, 3 women all killed and found at the surroundings of their home, Sarah Jennings, 23, defense attorney. Found in a downtown alley.." She clicked to the next slide, revealing another victim. "Second, Nicole Hart, 25, paralegal. And finally, Emily Russell, 30, judge. Found just outside her apartment. All victims were killed within a three-month span. Each one of them were found with a different note”

"Your silence speaks for itself."

"Mitigating circumstances should not overshadow the gravity of the crime."

"Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice."

“M.O.?” asks Prentiss. “Strangulation and multiple stabs to the chest were revealed by the reports” answers JJ.

Morgan adds “So overkill and legal connection, did they knew each other?”

“Families have denied any possibility of any of them being friends with each other” JJ answers.

Reid, who has been anxiously tapping his fingers in the arms of his chair, huffs in frustration, ignoring how annoying his subtle tremor is “So outside a simple note no connection.”

Gideos shoots him a glare but before he can say anything Garcia appears through the tv screen “My dear fuzzy friends, i have found something," She adjusts her glasses and clicks away at her keyboard. "All four victims have recent ties to cases handled by the District Attorney's office, big ones, too. Corruption charges, high-profile lawsuits, political scandals. It's a feast of legal drama."

Morgan leans forward, his interest piqued. "Anything specific about their involvement?"

"Funny you should ask," Garcia says with a wry grin. “Jennings provided testimonies in ongoing cases. Hart did legal research for one of those cases, and Russell? Well, she worked directly with the DA's office on prepping trial strategies. But here's the kicker—none of them worked together. Different cases, different departments. And all of them seemed to be very successful on their own"

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. "So 3 successful women with overkill, that sounds like envy to me"

Reid, his voice laced with a nervous edge, blurts out “Envy could be a factor, but it's also the level of violence. Overkill is usually a sign of a deep personal rage. It's like the unsub is targeting not just their professional lives, but something deeper, maybe the idea of success they represent.”

Gideon glances at the screen. "Any connections between the cases themselves?"

Garcia shakes her head. "Nothing that stands out yet, but I’m digging deeper. Let me keep working on it. I'll be needing access to the information the D.A. office has”

Gideon folds his arms over the table. “If they're found around their personal home it could mean the unsub is following them or getting the information from somewhere else. Someone inside the DA’s office could be leaking it."

Morgan shakes his head. "How do we narrow it down? A place like that probably has dozens of people handling sensitive information."

Hotch rises from his chair. "We need a list of who has access to it and interrogate them, but first, we should brief the DA. If someone in their office is compromised, they need to be aware of the risks."

JJ nods. "The District Attorney requested our help specifically. She mentioned an ADA, Woodvale, her right hand, who might be able to help us get a clearer picture of the internal dynamics in their office.” A photo of you in professional attire, looking sharp with an almost predatory confidence appears on the tv screen while JJ explains how you have been working with all the victims for different cases.

Morgan smirks. "Sounds like she’s got her hands full with this mess."

Reid rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Perfect. Another overachiever."

The team exchanges uneasy glances but says nothing. Hotch sends Morgan and Reid to the D.A. office while Prenttis, Gideon and him go to the victims' workplace. As the team disperses, Reid lingers behind, rubbing his temples in frustration. Gideon notices but says nothing.

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At your office, returning from Judge Gibson’s chambers after pushing for a warrant, your assistant, Molly, looks up from her desk.

"Austin’s waiting in your office," she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You thank her and add, “Call the detectives and let them know the warrant is secured.”

As you step into your office, Austin is lounging in the chair across from your desk, a familiar paper bag dangling from his hand.

“Your mom sent you this,” he announces, lifting the bag as if it’s a prized trophy.

You let out a sigh, already knowing what’s inside and taking off the clip that holds your hair in a half pony off, relaxing a bit. “Can you stop going to my parents’ house without me? It’s kind of weird.”

“It’s not weird. She always gives me sweets and pastries. You should see the look on her face when I take them.”

“Well, I’m glad someone enjoys them” you mutter, dropping your leather bag in your chair, taking the bag and peeking inside, finding a full banana loaf and a neatly packed sandwich that your mom always sends every couple weeks to ensure you eat enough and take time to rest.

You grab the loaf and glance back at the door. “Molly, I’m taking fifteen for lunch” you call. As you step toward her desk, handing over to her the dessert, you notice two men standing in front of it.

Neither of them looks familiar, no badges in sight, so they're not cops or detectives. One of them’s dressed too casually to be a lawyer, and the tall one has a leather messenger bag just like yours. He seemed distracted, his sharp features catching the light as he frowned slightly, visibly uncomfortable with the brightness in the room.

Molly glances at you, then back at the men. “They asked to see you, Ms. Woodvale.”

You study them for a moment, your fingers still wrapped around the paper bag from Austin. The tall one stood out, his tousled hair, a quiet intensity in his eyes. You quickly push the thought aside. “And you are?”

The broad one steps forward, offering a warm but professional smile. “Agent Morgan. This is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, not out of distrust but because an unannounced visit from the FBI rarely means good news. ��FBI? What’s going on?”

Morgan’s gaze shifts between you and Austin who is now standing behind you with his arms crossed, casually leaning against the doorframe. “Can we speak in private?” he asks, his tone calm but firm.

You frown but nod slightly, feeling the sensitivity of the conversation, opening the door widely for them to enter, looking at Austin apologetically, and you see him frowned as well but gets the hint.

Austin pushes off the doorframe, clearly reluctant to leave. “I’ll be outside if you need me, Woody.” you would’ve preferred he did not use the dumb nickname he gave you in front of the feds, but at least it softened the tension in the air. It was a subtle reminder that you had allies.

Once inside, you clip your hair back and slip into professional mode as they take in your office, your diplomas, the little wooden chess board your father gifted you when you were 15, your little trinkets arranged through the shelfs. You set the paper bag down on your desk, smooth your blue suit, crossing your arms as Morgan steps forward, his tone polite but serious. “We’re here about the leak in your office. The D.A. suggested you might have information that could help us.”

Your expression hardens, a mix of frustration and worry bubbling beneath the surface. You’d been working to deal with the fallout, but if the FBI was here now, it meant the situation had escalated far beyond your control. “I’m already working with the detectives assigned to the case,” you say, keeping your tone even. “Why is the FBI suddenly involved?”

“Because people are dying,” answers Reid sharply and a bit too harshly, with a too obvious expression.

Morgan glares at him briefly, before stepping in to clarify. “We believe the leak in your office is connected to a string of murders. The unsub is targeting individuals tied to the office, we believe is a male driven by envy towards powerful and successful women and possibly has someone from here leaking personal information. Does that ring any bells?”

Your brow furrows as you digest the information. “Envy over women?” You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That doesn’t help or narrow anything down in a place like this. And ff there’s someone leaking information in this office, I would’ve—”

“Maybe you’re too close to it to see the cracks,” Reid interrupts, frustration clear in his voice. His gaze is sharp, challenging, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’re being dissected under a microscope.

“Excuse me?” The words come out clipped, your irritation flaring at his insinuation.

Morgan steps in, shooting Reid a pointed look that speaks volumes. “What Dr. Reid is trying to say,” he begins, his tone patient, “Is that we’re not ruling anything out yet. We’re here to figure out how the information is getting out, not to place blame.”

Your eyes linger on Reid for a moment. His posture is rigid, his hands curling around the straps of his bag, fingers flexing into fists before relaxing again. There’s something raw about him, an edge that feels out of place but oddly familiar. You can’t decide if it’s irritation, exhaustion, or something else entirely.

“And what exactly makes you think the information is still coming from here?”

Morgan reaches into his jacket, pulling out a thin file. He places it on your desk and flips it open, revealing photos of victims and case files. “These are the people we’ve identified so far. All of them were connected to cases your office has handled in the past 3 months. The timeline suggests the leak is ongoing.”

You skim the photos, the pit in your stomach growing heavier with each passing second. “And you’re sure this isn’t coincidental?”

Reid answers again, his voice tight. “Murders tied to your office’s cases? That’s not a coincidence. It’s a pattern.”

“Reid,” Morgan says firmly, his voice a quiet warning.

Reid exhales sharply, scratching his neck he mutters, “Sorry. I mean... it’s statistically significant.”

You straighten up, your gaze flicking between the two agents. “What do you need from me?”

Morgan’s grin softens the tension in the room. “Your insight, the D.A. said she trusted you to be our inside guide. We think you can help us fill in some blanks.”

You go through the file and nod “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I want access to everything you have so far. I don’t work blind.”

“Fair enough, we will also need a list of the people who have access to sensible information for our tech analyst, and if you can come to our office it would be useful” Morgan says.

“I'll have my assistant send it, let me just get some stuff” they nod and step out of your office, you grab your coat, satchel leather bag swinging it over one shoulder and eyed the untouched lunch.

“She’s going to be pissed if you give that to anyone else,” Austin says from the doorframe. You roll your eyes and bite the sandwich, your mother is an incredible woman and baker, but in your opinion she always excels herself when it comes to savory. “What was that about?” He asks.

“Apparently we have a mole in the office that's connected to murder by someone who’s envious of women” you answer halfway through that sandwich.

Austin’s expression sharpens as he steps closer. “Need me to look into it?” he offers, he’s an experienced private investigator who’s helped you through more cases than you can count. His connections, street smarts, and knack for digging up information have been invaluable to you, especially when things get too tangled for the usual channels. You could call him your best friend; though sometimes you threaten to kill him for knowing way too much about you.

You nod, finishing the sandwich, crumpling the paper bag and walking to the door “I'll text you if I need your help” you leave the office, going through the hallways to find the agents who lead you to their SUV on the way to Quantico.

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At headquarters, you stand in a room in front of the plastic board, all the victims, your ex-colleagues, none of them were truly friends, just girls you have worked with and you have lamented their deaths when you find out. You never thought their deaths could be related, less so to your office. You never thought their deaths would affect you so… personally.

You had already been introduced to the team, they all seemed professional and grounded, though you already knew Agent Hotchner from when he was a prosecutor, you shaked hands with Prentiss, Gideon, and JJ, letting your coat and bag in one of the chair’s arm in the conference room after being hand out the files.

The team gathers around the plastic board, Reid standing slightly to the side, tapping a pen against his palm with restless energy. He was looking at you and the way your eyes moved through the board, like you were physically trying to connect the dots, the way you were flicking your nails unconsciously, it was driving him crazy.

They had given the full profile of the unsub. Male from 30 to 35, probably has a job in the criminal justice world but his work goes unnoticed which lead to him being envious of women and blaming them when it comes to injustice, therefore the accusing notes.

You could think in a couple names from that description, but none of them were capable of murder, let alone how violent the crime scene pictures showed. From the list of people with recent access you had gave out, you secretly wished they were wrong about a mole. Although something sat wrong for you when you looked at the notes, why would someone-

A bright sound cuts through the room and your thoughts, Garcia’s voice, announcing through the screen, “Okay, folks, I’ve cross-checked the office access records with everything we have so far, and guess what? We have a match.” She sounded confident “Someone on the inside had access to all of the victims’ files. And it’s not just anyone. We have a name, and a face.” she announced showing a picture of a Paralegal friend of you, no. “Ana Lopez” Garcia continues, the name sounding almost foreign as it leaves her lips. “She’s been in and out of the office with access to every victim’s file, and I’ve cross-referenced her movements—she’s had a direct connection to every single one of them. And what's more... she had an unusual interest in the victim's case files long before things escalated.”

“it´s not Ana” the words leave your tongue before you can stop them.

Prentiss looks at you with a concerned expression “is she your friend? look i know it can be hard to digest that she-”

“She's very advocate to the victims,” you interrupt, with a voice tight, as you shakes your head. “Ana's been one of the most outspoken advocates for justice in the office. She’s passionate about these cases, about the women who get overlooked. She doesn’t fit the profile. This isn’t her."

“People can do out-of-character things when they’re pushed to their limit” Gideon interjects calmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts and rambling. His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable weight to it. “We’ve all seen it. The pressure can change people. It’s not always what it seems.”

Hotch nods, already stepping into action. “We’ll have to bring Ana in for questioning. Morgan, JJ, go to her house, Garcia will send you the address.”

Morgan gives a nod, and JJ’s gaze flickers to you, but she doesn’t say anything, respecting the heavy tension that hangs in the air.

You stand still, a knot of frustration tightening in the chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness in all of this. Partially because Ana was a steady paralegal who wouldn´t hand out sensitive information, and partially because you felt there was something else buried deeper, and you needed answers.

“Look… let me dig further into this,” you reach for your phone, desperately avoiding the feeling of becoming someone who clings to conspiracy theories. “How are you planning on doing that?” Hotch’s voice is firm, questioning, but not dismissive.

“You have your sources, and I have mine,” your tone sharp as you speed dials a number. The phone rings once, twice, before it clicks. “Austin,” you step into the bullpen to take the call. “They think the mole is Ana”

“Lopez? That can be it. One time, I saw her take down a guy who was trying to cut corners on a case. She was too righteous about it, if you ask me.”

You exhale sharply, a mix of frustration and confusion clawing, making the room too warm for your liking, leading you to take your navy blazer off and settle it over a desk chair. “I don’t know, Austin. My gut tells me there's something more. I need answers.”

“You think someone’s using her name? Hacking her or setting her up?” Austin asks, picking up on her suspicions.

“Exactly,” you answer quickly. “I don’t know how they’re doing it, but I need you to dig into everything—anything that could explain this. There has to be something we’re missing. Get me answers, Austin.”

“Understood, Captain,” he replies, his voice laced with a touch of humor despite the seriousness of the situation. “I’ll get to work on this and call you with anything I find.” he hangs up.

You save your phone, square your shoulders and take a deep breath, noticing Prentiss walking towards you, concern in her eyes. She stops just a few feet away and speaks gently, “Hey… I know this is a lot, and I know it’s close to home for you. Do you want some coffee? It might help clear your head for a moment.”

You glance at her, tired but appreciative of the offer. A small sigh escapes your lips as you nod. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

She leads you to the break room, a quiet part of the office where the noise of the investigation feels a little further away. The sound of the coffee machine brews in the background as she pours two cups, and you deny when she asks for how much sugar. She hands one before sitting down across from you at the table.

You take the mug in your hands, feeling the warmth seep through, the bitter and burn taste grounding your thoughts. “I get that you’re all just doing your jobs, Prentiss. I understand that. It’s just... as an attorney, you learn to read people. And sometimes, you have to trust your gut. Right now, my gut is telling me I missed something, not about Ana but about all of this.”

Prentiss nods like she understands what you are saying, letting the silence settle between you for a moment “You know you seem young to be A.D.A.” she jokes lightly.

Raising up your cup “That’s what the defense always says before losing” you say back, thanking internally for the attempt to ease up “I'm 22… I graduated from law school at 20 and immediately got an internship… so since then i’ve been working up my position”

Prentiss chuckles softly, leaning back in her chair. “Don't tell me you are a genius too… I can see why though. You’ve got a sharp edge to you—good for the courtroom, probably not so great for poker.”

You chuckle, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Well, let’s just say I prefer chess.” Sensing where the conversation might go, you subtly steer it away, curious about what she meant by too but before you can say more, Austin’s ringtone erupts, cutting through the quiet hum of the break room. You quickly pull your phone out and answer. “Got you answers” he says.

That was enough for you to put him on speaker mode and head back to the room with the rest of the team.

“Turns out Ana had an intern who’s been frequenting closed files, Daniel Reeves” he states, and when you don´t recognize the name it weirds you out. “I don’t recall that name”.

“That’s because he was at the office while you and I were on vacation in L.A. in February,” Austin explains. You’re too focused on connecting the dots to notice Gideon’s raised eyebrows or Spencer’s subtle eye roll.

“Anyway,” Austin continues, “This kid’s good with computers and had access to her credentials. Nobody paid too much attention to him, but an officer told me he’s been prowling around the file room for the last couple of months. I can’t guarantee he’s your guy, but it’s definitely worth looking into.”

“Daniel Reeves…” Garcia says through the desk phone speaker. “Graduated top of his class in computer science, specialized in cybersecurity, and interned with several law firms before Ana’s office. If anyone could hack a system and cover their tracks, it’s him.”

“Looks like he had access to the same systems Ana uses,” Garcia adds “And—oh, this is interesting—there’s a flagged incident from his previous internship. Something about unauthorized access to confidential records, but no charges were filed.”

Hotch steps forward, his posture commanding as always. “Garcia, send the new address to Morgan and JJ. I’ll let them know we found the mole”

“On it, Hotch. They’ll be there in no time.” She answers.

You take a deep breath, rubbing your forehead and letting settle the satisfaction that you are being useful to stop this madness. You glance at the phone, and press the speakerphone off. “Thanks for your help, Austin.”

The voice on the other end crackles with a slight delay, but Austin’s tone is unmistakable “Glad I could help Woody, take care”. You smile faintly at the nickname. “You too,” you say before hanging up and saving your phone in your bag, returning your attention to the team.

Reid, still fidgeting with the files in front of him, looks up briefly, his gaze lingering just a little too long. The flicker of his interest escapes you, your thoughts focused on the notes but you don't acknowledge it, choosing instead to focus on the case.

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There was something oddly familiar about the notes; and, of course, you were the only one noticing it. Since Austin’s discovery, they had brought in Daniel Reeves, who confessed to being blackmailed, claiming he had no idea who was behind any of this, so it was almost a dead end. You flicked your nails unconsciously, if you had a pen you would swirl it and if you weren’t so anxious you would be seated with your leg bouncing.

"Your silence speaks for itself."

"Integrity means different things to different people. Some get to define it for themselves."

"Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice."

"Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice." That one had stuck up with you. Reckless disregard. Reckless disregard. Reckless disregard. The way it rolled through your tongue gave you the clue of something else. You knew you had used those words before, if you could only place where; thousands of citations, warrants? Your eyes would move from point to point like you were physically searching, your nails would flick faster and faster. Where?

“God, could you stop doing that!?” Reid snaps, his gaze sharp with annoyance, and you look at him with the eyes of a deer caught in headlights.

You have learned over the years to not take stuff thrown at you personally, whether it is an out loud objection, a dirty trick in court with a judge, an inmate yelling at you for getting a sentence, an annoyed face in the search of a judge to sign a warrant, you do-not-take-it-personally.

But the look on Reid’s face made you feel like a 15-year-old misfit again, the girl who would cry, jump, and be on the verge of a panic attack if anyone accidentally touched her or if something too sweet triggered memories of hands creeping up, a teenager surrounded by college students who believed she was a narcissist egomaniac violent freak, a look you were afraid to find in your parents eyes when the therapist had told them about your anger issues and impulsiveness after you had destroyed the lamp in your bedroom, a look of plain annoyance not for what you had done but for who you are and what you represent, a mere obstacle, you were awkward and overwhelmed by everything. For a moment, the confident prosecutor, the woman in charge, vanished.

And you knew everybody in the room had noticed it, even after you had recovered from that second, you noticed it in the look on Derek's face, the way he looked at you apologetically, “Reid.” Gideon said, like a father scold his kid.

“It's okay I'll.. i need a coffee” you excuse yourself out of the room as fast and collected as you can, looking for some air.

In the room Reid senses his outburst has landed harder than he would’ve imagined. “Reid, go back to the scene. Start digging through the evidence again. There might be something we missed.” Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, and he opens his mouth to protest “Now.” Hotch remarks, which stops him from going further.

It was just so fucking annoying, the way she flicked her nails nonstop. Why did nobody see it?. So on his way out he grabs the leather bag that’s in one of the chairs of the room and finds it so irritating when Gideon follows him to notice there’s another satchel, in his desk chair covered with a blue blazer, his satchel.

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You had poured yourself another cup of extra bitter coffee, why did it affect you so much? god it was pathetic, you had faced worse than some guy calling you annoying. Maybe because you haven't seen it coming, maybe because it was so… reckless.

Reckless disregard. Reckless disregard.

Now where the fuck did you know that from? While being focused you sensed someone coming and discovered it was Morgan’s footsteps echoing through the bullpen, drawing your attention back to the present.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low as he stepped into your line of sight. “How you holding up?”

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. “I’m fine, just… thinking. I guess.” you tried to brush off, your mind was already elsewhere.

“Look, Reid is going th—”

“I’ve had it worse, really. I mean, law school is not for the weak,” you interrupted, joking, before he could start feeling pity for you.

He huffs with humor and decides to drop the apology on Reid’s behalf. Instead, he leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes watching you carefully “Occupational hazard I suppose... you know sometimes I wonder what happens after we catch the Unsubs”

“Well the fight doesn't end there, it does bring peace to the victims but believe me.. the legal battle sometimes is worse than the haunt.” you stare at the wall as you recall some of the people you have helped over the years.

“What do you mean?” Morgan's brows furrowed as he leaned closer, genuinely intrigued.

“Well…” you began, taking a deep breath, “The system is messy. It’s not like TV where the bad guy just goes to jail, and everyone walks away happy. Families have to relive their trauma during trials. There are plea deals, technicalities, appeals... It drags on. And sometimes,” you pause, gripping your cup a little tighter, “Justice doesn’t feel like justice at all.”

Morgan tilted his head, his voice softer now. “You’ve seen that happen, haven’t you?”

You exhale sharply, giving him a sidelong glance. “More times than I’d like to admit. You work so hard to get the right outcome, and then… loopholes, errors, or even just bad luck. It’s like pouring water into a cracked glass. It never fills up.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And the people who go through that… they don’t always come out the other side, do they?”

“No, they don’t.” You look down into your coffee, your mind turning over the notes again. “Sometimes they snap under the weight of it all, the pain, the guilt, the blame, the...”

Blame

Your head snaps at him as you realize. “Blame.” That was it.

He furrowed his eyebrows not catching your thoughts “What?”

The cup clatters onto the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway, but you’re already moving, your steps brisk as you head toward the conference room. Morgan calls after you, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. “Hey, hold up! What’s going on?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind racing as you burst into the room. The others look up, startled by your sudden entrance. Without a word, you grab the bag containing the notes from the board, your hands moving with purpose as you spread them out in front of you.

“Blame,” you say, your voice firm, almost breathless. “These notes and murders—they’re not coming from someone who’s envious, but from someone who’s blaming the system. Not because it didn’t recognize them, but because it failed them!” The words tumble out faster than you can organize them, your thoughts racing ahead of your mouth. You’re not even fully conscious of what you’re saying, already dissecting the next connection in your mind.

JJ steps closer, his brows furrowed in curiosity. “Failed them how?”

“They’re not jealous of the people they’re targeting,” you continue, pointing to the scattered notes as your mind sharpens. “They’re angry. Angry at the system for not delivering justice, for letting them down when they needed it the most.” You reach for one of the notes, holding it up as you ramble. “Look at the phrasing they’re accusatory they’re challenging the idea of accountability, of consequences it’s not about wanting what these people have it’s about punishing them for what the unsub sees as complicity in their pain.”

In your state of mind you barely recall the sound of Hotch’s phone and him stepping out of the room, too focused on looking at Morgan, Prentiss and JJ.

“The profile is wrong” Prentiss says, nodding slowly as she starts piecing it together herself. Her eyes flick to the board covered with crime scene photos and victims’ profiles. “That’s why he’s targeting people from both sides, defense and prosecution. It’s not about personal grudges against individuals; it’s about what they represent.”

“Exactly,” you reply, your voice firm. “He sees them as symbols of a broken system. Defense attorneys, paralegals, judges—they’re all complicit in his eyes. They’re the ones who allowed the system to fail him.”

Prentiss gestures to the timeline on the board. “But what was the trigger? What pushed him from feeling betrayed to committing these murders?”

You take a deep breath, your eyes scanning the notes again. “It’s got to be personal—a case he was directly connected to. Something happened that made him feel like the system didn’t just fail, but actively betrayed him. He have go to the records”

Morgan pushes off the table, already reaching for the phone. “Hey, Babygirl, we need you to go through court files and find something that stands out, any cases around three months ago when the murders started.”

“Okay, do you have anything more specific to know what I’m looking for?” Garcia’s voice crackles through the speaker, the familiar clacking of her keyboard filling the room as she prepares to search.

“We need to focus on high-profile cases that could have shaken the system. Look for any parole hearings, controversial verdicts, or any case that resulted in a big upset—something that would’ve made the Unsub feel like the system betrayed him,” He explains, already pacing with his phone pressed to his ear.

"Got it," Garcia responds, her fingers already flying across the keyboard. "I'll start pulling up all cases with defense or prosecution lawyers involved. High stakes stuff."

But before all of you could start digging and theorizing, Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, leaving you all frozen. “They’ve found another body with another note.”

The tension in the room thickens. Your breath takes off and without missing a beat, you all gather your things, it takes you a minute to find your blazer but in the heat of the moment you didn’t question why and how had your bag gotten under it, instincts kicking into gear as you rush to the scene.

“JJ you are with me, Gideon and Reid are already going to the scene” they all nod at the commanding voice of Hotch and you rush to get in the back seat of the black SUV with Morgan and Prentiss.

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In the car you take a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts to be able to think of anyone who can feel betrayed enough to commit murder. The problem is that anyone can feel betrayed enough to have an outburst. Hell, you were no one to talk about outburst if more than a couple times you had imagined yourself throwing something to inmates or smashing their heads against the table when all the evidence pointed at them being guilty and insisted on dragging the trials off.

“Can I ask why L.A. in the winter?” Prentiss' voice from the passenger seat brings you back to the car.

“What?”

“I mean it wouldn’t be my first choice for a romantic getaway” she thinks out loud.

“Ohh.. wait, romantic? Austin is not my boyfriend.. I just don’t like travelling alone” you are quick to correct her. You weren't lying, the statistics show how dangerous it is for women to travel alone and it gave your parents some peace to think someone will be there to keep you company that they trusted, plus he’s a good travel buddy because he knows when to bother and when to not do it.

Prentiss nods, as if taking mental notes, probably profiling you. “I just thought L.A. in the winter was more of a vacation spot, you know? Beaches, sunshine... not really the first place you’d think of for a quiet getaway.”

“They hold the biggest Doctor Who convention there during that time of the year ” you mumble, noticing how both Morgan and Prentiss look at each other as if sharing a thought and before you can ask, the blue and red lights hit you, announcing the arrival to the apartment complex, the crime scene.

You all step out of the car, the place is full of officers and you rush to where Gideon and Hotch are standing, note in hand. You notice how Reid has some urgency to tell you something but when JJ hands you the bag that secures evidence with the note.

"No one is above the law. Except for the guilty who’ve been given second chances."

Glancing at the note, your mind races, piecing together fragments of information, second chances. “Parole,” you murmur “The unsub is a victim, and their victimizer got out on parole!” Your eyes dart from point to point, connecting the dots. “That’s what he means by second chances.”

Hotch nods sharply “Garcia is already going through parole records.”

Just as the words settle, a new idea strikes you like lightning, and you barely take a breath before blurting, “I think I know something about the notes!” The sudden burst of realization sends you sprinting to the car, leaving the team, and a startled Spencer Reid, in your wake.

“Wait-” Spencer starts, his voice tight and laced with something unspoken, but you’re already too far gone to hear the rest, leaving him with panic in his eyes and an open mouth as he was about to say something.

Fumbling through your bag, your hands shake with the adrenaline coursing through you. “Your silence speaks for itself. Integrity means different things to different people. Some get to define it for themselves. Reckless disregard for justice. Second chances...” You mutter fragments aloud, recognizing the phrases. They weren’t random. You’ve read these words before, somewhere specific. A draft of a closing statement? A court transcript? Your fingers move frantically, searching for your phone, your notes, something. Why did you brought your copy of Crime and Punishment? and why did it look a little bit newer than yours? Where's your phone? Where are your files?. Not every criminal can get out on parole—they need good behavior, a stable support system… Maybe you put it in the front pocket.

Your hand grazes something cold and smooth. Glass. Then something sharp, metal. You freeze, pulling the objects into view. Two small bottles of Dilaudid and a needle. Your throat tightens, and you feel the air around you thin and the familiar warm that comes with anger starts to settle down your back.

You glance up, almost instinctively, and your furious eyes land on him. Spencer’s standing a few feet away, his expression is a contorted pale mask of fear, guilt, and helplessness, his eyes wide and pleading as they lock onto yours, making you look away at the full disclosure of a crime scene.

The chaos of the crime scene rushes back to you. The flash of blue and red lights dancing across every surface, the sharp crackle of radio chatter blending with raised voices, the metallic tang of blood still fresh in the air. Officers move purposefully, their dark uniforms a blur of activity as evidence is collected and barriers are secured.

There are 3 things going on in your brain right now.

This is not your bag, it's Spencer’s.

Spencer is an addict.

You are in the middle of a crime scene, surrounded by cops with a full stash of illegal drugs.

You have to think, think fast and now. The unsub, the drugs, the notes, his sharpness, the victims.

You see Morgan stepping out of the building, his sharp gaze scanning the scene. Panic rushes through you like ice water. You shove the Dilaudid and needle back into the bag, your hands trembling as you close it. Your mind races, desperate to piece together what to do next. “Morgan I need you to drive me to my office”

“What? Why?” he looks at you like you are out of your mind.

“I need a file I thought I had it with me but I don't and it would be faster I don't think the words of the notes are random I think I have seen them before in some legal file that could lead us to the Unsub” the words rush, you are rambling desperate to get out that place, clutching the strap of the bag to your chest.

Morgan’s sharp gaze lingers on you as he signals the car. “Get in,” he says before telling Prentiss and Hotch about it and getting in the car.

You slide into the passenger seat, gripping the bag so tightly your knuckles ache. Morgan settles into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, the rumble of the car barely masking the tension between you. As you approach your office building, you mentally rehearse your next steps. Get upstairs, dispose of the drugs, and look for the file. Your mind spins with the weight of the discovery, but you shove it aside as Morgan pulls up to the curb.

You get out of the car and enter the building. It’s past 10 pm so no one is around, except you two, as you get closer to your office you hear a noise somewhere that makes Morgan instincts spark up. “It's probably the janitor” you brush off.

“I’ll take a look” you nod and ask for his phone to call Garcia if needed, he gives it to you as he takes off his gun and you thank whatever mess that cleaning man was making, giving you the opportunity to execute your plan alone.

You open the door and rush to the bathroom taking the bottles out. How could Reid do something like this? Did his team know? The anger, a familiar flame, burns through you as you flush the contents of the bottle and went back to the office to look for the paper bag that had contained your lunch this morning.

It was irrational for you to be this angry at him without even knowing him but it was there, simmering under the surface. How could someone do this to himself? To his team? To the people who rely on him?

The crumpled paper bag from earlier sat on your desk, you broke the needle off, and shoved it inside with the empty bottles to dump it deep into one of the trash cans in the hallway. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.

You go through your cabinets, looking for the draft files. “Where is it?” you muttered under your breath, flipping through yet another folder. The contents were a jumble of case summaries, old briefs, and legal drafts, but none of them held the connection you were chasing. You were good with names, especially if it was tied to a legal document, which could be sad but right now is useful when you finally stumble upon a file that felt too familiar. You pulled it out, the edges worn from use, and opened it. A closing statement you’d written 5 years ago during a case.

Lawrence Finch. Larry.

Father of two kids with a wife, family that was taken away from him because in a car accident where the other driver was a rich guy who was too high to understand anything and got out harmless, Evan Grayson was his name. You remember how hollow he looked and how much he had thanked you after you got the guy sentenced. In your closing statement you spoke about the depth of his loss, about the void that could never be filled. You'd used his words, his pain, to hammer home the injustice, the lives lost because of one reckless decision. You remembered how his face had softened in that brief moment of relief after the sentence was handed down. He’d shaken your hand and said, “You gave me my justice.”

Glancing at the words you realize how the words you’d written, once so full of conviction, now echoed in your head, twisted and distorted. The Unsub had taken your closing statement—Lawrence Finch’s words—and turned them into something chilling.

"Your silence speaks for the victims. They can no longer speak for themselves." had become "Your silence speaks for itself."

"Integrity is the foundation of justice. It means holding those responsible accountable, no matter who they are." was now "Integrity means different things to different people. Some get to define it for themselves."

"His behavior demonstrates a complete disregard for human life, a pattern of recklessness that cannot go unpunished." had morphed into "Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice."

And the final sting, the one that had sealed the fate of the driver who’d taken a family’s life, was now twisted into something far more personal "No one is above the law, not even those who believe their privilege protects them from it." turned into "No one is above the law. Except for the guilty who’ve been given second chances."

He wasn’t just echoing your words—he was using them, warping them into a weapon.

You grab Morgan’s phone and look through the contacts before pressing call “Garcia, I need you to look up something for me,” the urgency was clear in your voice.

“You are not my chocolate thunder but speak and you'll be heard” Garcia responded, always upbeat even when the stakes were high.

“Evan Grayson. I need everything you can find on him—parole status, criminal record, anything recent,” you said, pacing the room as your mind spun with connections you were still piecing together.

"Got it! Give me a second, I’ll dig into the system,” Garcia said, her voice clicking into business mode. A few moments of silence passed, you hear some rustling outside but ignore it, before she spoke again, her tone more focused. “Okay, here we go. Evan Grayson, 27, convicted of vehicular manslaughter five years ago. Served three years, got released early on good behavior.”

“Garcia, they guy murdered almost an entire family five years ago, the only one left was the father Larry Finch, he’s our unsub, he’s been using the words of trial for the notes!” you said, your voice tight. “We need to localize him and inform the rest of the team that-.”

Before you could finish, a scuffle echoed from down the hallway, followed by a muffled shout that cut through the silence of the building. Morgan’s voice calling your name with an edge of panic. Garcia’s voice asking what was going on felt far.

You bolted toward the sound, heart pounding in your chest. The door to your office was ajar, and you caught sight of Morgan wrestling with someone, a blur of motion. The other figure was struggling, trying to break free, but Morgan’s grip was like steel.

"Get down!" Morgan barked, his voice gruff with exertion.

Your eyes widened as you recognized the man, Larry Finch, the very person whose family had been torn apart in the accident. He was here. Right here. In your office. Probably looking for you.

Your mind raced, trying to process the situation, but Morgan didn’t give you time to think. He quickly subdued Larry, pinning him to the ground with the precision only years of training could provide. The fight drained from Larry’s body as Morgan cuffed him, his breath coming in ragged gasps with his gaze towards the officers that were running towards him.

His words pierced the air, heavy with accusation. “You promised me he would never get out! You failed me! All of you failed me!” Larry’s voice was raw, full of grief and rage. This wasn’t the grieving father you’d met 5 years ago, this was a man hollowed out by loss, filled with nothing but rage and betrayal. His words struck deep because he wasn’t wrong, you understood profusely the feelings and you had failed him somehow and maybe if you had known about Evan Grayson getting out you could’ve done something. Those eyes full of hurt and betrayal were locked on you as they pulled him away, Morgan´s concerned gaze on your figure frozen behind the door of your office, with your hands still clenching the statement.

He went to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you “Wanna step outside for some air?” he offers. You shake your head, moving on to the next task, locking your feelings away “i’ll meet you outside, I just… I need to do something real quick.”. He hesitates but nods and leaves you alone giving your shoulder a brief squeeze as you walk back to your desk, focused on the pace of your breaths and working on keeping them even. You see Morgan’s phone screen with a message from Garcia “i heard noises and called for backup”

So everyone was downstairs. Everyone including Reid. Reid. Dilaudid. Your fault. Anger.

You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to stay in control and not destroy or throw anything that was at your reach, you grab the black desk phone, speed dialing 9 without even looking. When a calming “Hello?” sounds in the other line you breathe deep again, the grip on the phone getting tighter, you close your eyes, steadying yourself as you grab a pen and paper with shaking hands.

“Dr. Fitzgerald i… i need your help”

　　　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　　　

You step outside just as JJ and Reid emerge from a black SUV. JJ barely spares a glance before rushing toward Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch, but Reid stops. His gaze lands on you, then drifts lower to the satchel slung across your body. His satchel.

Your breath catches for half a second, but you don’t give him the chance. Before he can take a step in your direction, you move first. Quick, deliberate. You make your way to another SUV, open the backseat, and set the bag inside without so much as a glance in his direction. Then, with Larry’s file gripped tight in your hand, you head straight for the team.

You don’t look at him. You can’t.

But it doesn’t stop you from feeling the weight of his stare. From sensing the way he lingers, trying to find a moment, an opening, to talk to you alone. You know exactly how that conversation will go, how the fury and frustration bubbling under your skin will erupt the second he speaks. If he tries, you will yell. And you don’t trust yourself to stop.

So, instead, you focus. You lay out what you’ve found to the rest of the team members, flipping through the notes, explaining the connections, your voice steady despite the storm inside you, trusting that he’ll have the decency to not approach you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch movement. Reid. He’s walking toward another SUV, the leather bag, your leather bag, slipping from his shoulder as he places it inside without hesitation.

He caught on.

You force yourself to keep talking, to keep your focus on the case, but inside, you're torn. Part of you wants to be grateful that he understood, that he’s playing along. Another part of you hates that he did.

Because it means he knows. And that’s almost worse.

　　　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　　　

You watched the chessboard, considering the game’s progress. The case was wrapped up, but you still had some files and reports to gather. More than that, you liked talking to the team, there was something about the spirit of family among them that you hadn’t expected. It was a strange feeling, one that tugged at you.

“Would you like to play?” you heard someone ask you, making you turn around to see Agent Gideon, speaking of “family”, you had noticed how he acted like a mentor or father to Reid, maybe he was. You knew fathers weren't perfect, you guess that extended to figurative ones too, but how could someone so proud of playing that role ignore something as obvious as Reid’s addiction? No help, no support. Did he even know what it was like to battle something like that? did he even know what it was like having an addiction? did he know Reid has one?

“Yes” you answer to him, chess has always played an important part in your life, a way out, literally and metaphorically, a board of 46 squares and more possible moves than the amount of atoms in the universe, a regulated and controlled space, where you had all the control.

You both sat at opposite sides of the board, rearranging the pieces. “Black or white?” he asked. “I'm fine with either”. You didn't believe in luck or coincidences, so when he grabbed both queens and made you pick, drawing black, you didn't think much of it. Mathematically you were at a disadvantage, when two machines play chess, black always loses. But you’d gone through enough to know better than to give up on a weak starting position.

So move after move, you weren't playing to win really, and judging his moves he wasn't either, you can tell a lot from someone's way to play chess. “It's nice to play against someone new you know?”. Gideon glanced for a second at Reid with a brief smile. That made you doubt your next move, because your rage has always made you freeze for a second and erratic the next. How could he?. Yes, you have been avoiding Reid at all costs. No, you didn't know if he and Dr. Fitzgerald had talked. You had helped him in the best way you could've possibly found fighting to not panic too much.

So you hummed in response, letting the wheels in your head turn as you shifted your strategy, so when you started playing to win, the game was too advance for him to do a proper counter attack.

“Checkmate” a smile appeared on your face, the same one when you knew the inmate was going to get convicted, when your closing statement had convinced the jury. When someone underestimated you.

Gideon tilted his head, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. He glanced between you and the board. “Didn’t see that one coming,”

With your fingers still resting lightly on the queen, you paused for a second. “Yeah there's a lot of things you either don't see or choose to ignore, Agent Gideon” your piercing stare and a cool voice, heavy with the weight of frustration.

Gideon’s smile faltered, and for the first time, his eyes showed something more than just the calm resolve he always projected. Your words had hit the mark. He knew it wasn’t just about chess.

You had outplayed him, just as you had outplayed the situation. And just as you had done with Reid, by realizing and taking action, something that clearly no one else had.

After talking to Hotch, reports in hand, as you walked out of the Headquarters and stumble upon Morgan, who gives you a warm and friendly smile as he says hi.

"Hey umm.. I wasn't really able to thanked you the other night after you saved my life, I truly thought it was just a cleaning lady" It felt so shameful how unaware you had been at the danger that night because of your meltdown.

He moves his hand as it was nothing. "Hey I'm just glad I decided to go with you instead of waiting in the car"

Reaching for one of your presentation cards, neatly saved in your new black leather bag, holding it between your index and middle finger to him "Well... I still own a big one. So if you ever need legal help or anything else, don't hesitate to reach for me"

He takes it nodding and reads it out loud your full name with a funny pace "I'll hold on to that one Miss A.D.A. Woodvale".

You laugh at his way to pronounce it, feeling too formal for the moment "Please just.. call me Woody"

He chuckles "Wait like the Toy Story character?"

You chuckled too "Yeah it's uhh.. dumb name but.." you shrug as a friendly smile paints your face as you realize you had made a new friend which was weird for you but felt oddly satisfying as you said your goodbyes and walked in opposite's directions.

Your thoughts wandered to Spencer, against your better judgment, they always did recently. It was infuritating the fact that your mind always went back around him, you couldn’t quite say why exactly, because if you would've have never found out what you did, he would've have stayed as the rude and annoying agent you met once.

But then you remembered the other side of him—the trembling hands, the lost stares, the outburst, the bottles you found in his bag. You couldn’t unsee it, couldn’t separate him from the shadow of his addiction. And it broke something inside you, because you knew what that darkness looked like, how it devoured people whole.

You wanted to reach for him, to offer more than the cold anger and frustration you’d shown, but you were too afraid. Afraid of what it might mean for both of you if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, fight his way out. Afraid that you would fall too, trying to save someone.

You hoped he would get help. You prayed to gods you didn't even believe in for it. You knew all too well what it felt like to be trapped in that cycle, in your body. You couldn’t bear the thought of him staying there, lost.

And so you walked away, keeping your distance, even though a part of you that you didn’t understood ached to stay.

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part II Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

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nemo-writes · 3 months ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; going back to the coven is anything but comforting. meanwhile, the pack finally face the truth, consumed by shame and grief as they finally grasp the depth of their betrayal—and what it’s cost them.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The trip home stretched endlessly, the hum of magic-infused machinery barely masking the heavy silence that filled the car. You sat in the back seat next to your Mother, her gaze remained fixed out the window, unyielding and distant, while Cath Palug purred softly in her lap, seemingly impervious to the tension.

Up front, König drove in complete silence, his focus locked on the road. His stillness was matched by Sybil, who had climbed into the back with you, pressing herself against your side. Her warmth and steady breaths anchored you.

The landscape shifted as the car veered off the main road, winding deeper into the countryside. The town near the coven came into view, a picture of quiet prosperity nestled among the trees. Its flourishing streets and bustling community reflected your Mother’s fierce protection and the coven’s watchful eye. People paused as the sleek black car passed, bowing deeply or offering respectful nods. Despite your Mother’s cold and exacting nature, her loyalty and strength ensured the people's safety and growth.

The car rolled through the wrought iron gates of the estate, the sprawling grounds of the coven’s domain stretching out before you. The old English-style mansion rose ahead, a commanding presence surrounded by lush gardens and shadowed paths. Across the grounds, women in training moved purposefully, their whispered conversations halting when they caught sight of the car. They too bowed deeply, their expressions a mix of admiration and caution. Others, bolder, whispered amongst themselves, their gazes darting away when you glanced toward them through the window.

As the car slowed to a stop, your other mother emerged from the grand entrance, her wheelchair gliding forward with its graceful, hand-like appendages navigating the uneven stones effortlessly. Horangi walked steadily behind her, his presence as sharp and watchful as ever. At her side, her sleek, pitch-black Borzoi, Barghest, padded with a measured elegance.

Your Mom’s face lit up at the sight of you, though her eyes quickly darted to Sybil’s slight limp and the exhaustion etched into your features. Concern softened her expression, and her lips parted to speak, but her gaze shifted to your Mother first. She extended a hand, and your Mother leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

“I missed you,” your Mom murmured softly, her hand lingering on your Mother’s cheek.

Your Mother, though ever composed and aloof, allowed the faintest softening of her features. “As did I,” she replied, her voice low and steady.

Their connection, brief but undeniable, reminded you of the rare moments when their love shone through the icy expectations that so often consumed your Mother.

Turning her attention back to you, your Mom’s warm expression returned, though concern shadowed her gaze. “You look dreadful,” she said gently, her tone laced with worry. Her eyes flicking down to Sybil. “Not just tired. Injured. Both of you.”

Barghest tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing as she approached Sybil. There was a moment of stillness, a silent assessment passing between the two dogs. Then, the larger Borzoi lowered her head, greeting Sybil like a mother would her pup. Sybil, though hesitant at first, leaned into the touch, her tail giving a faint, tentative wag.

Your Mother remained silent, her cool poise unshaken, though you caught the faintest flicker of tension in her jaw—a rare tell. Without a word, she turned sharply on her heel, her movements precise and deliberate as if to shield any hint of unease. Cath Palug, ever her shadow, padded gracefully beside her, the flick of her tail echoed the unspoken dismissal left behind.

Your Mom sighed, shaking her head gently. “Inside. Now,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

König stepped out of the car without a word, his quiet efficiency undisturbed as he moved to the trunk. “I’ll handle everything,” he said, his voice low and steady. It was both a reassurance and a dismissal, leaving no room for argument as he began gathering your things.

Too drained to muster much else, you nodded faintly and followed your Mom’s gesture toward the house. Her wheelchair, its enchanted appendages moving with fluid precision, moved alongside you, the faint whir of magic lacing the air. Sybil kept close, her steps tentative as she walked beside you.

The familiar halls of the mansion unfolded around you, the heavy drapes and intricate carvings exuding an air of both history and expectation. The scent of aged wood and faint herbs lingered, familiar and oppressive.

In the sunlit sitting room, your Mom gestured for you to sit. “Horangi,” she said, her voice firm, “fetch tea and something to eat. They’ve been through enough already.”

Horangi hesitated for the briefest moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he turned on his heel and disappeared toward the kitchen without a word.

As you sank into the plush chair she indicated, Sybil curled at your feet, her head resting on your ankle. Barghest lingered near the doorway, before settling herself a short distance away, her gaze never straying far.

Your Mom clicked her tongue softly, a mix of concern and affection coloring her voice. “Put your feet up, darling,” she instructed gently, and with a graceful flick of her wrist, an ottoman slid effortlessly into place in front of you, gliding as if carried on an invisible current. “You’ve had a long enough journey, and I’m not having you sit there like some tensed-up statue.”

You hesitated for a moment, but her expectant gaze left no room for argument. Sighing, you shifted slightly and rested your feet on the plush surface, instantly feeling a sense of relief from the aching tension in your legs, especially your ankle. Sybil lifted her head slightly, her gaze flicking to your Mom with quiet, watchful curiosity.

“Good,” your Mom said, her tone softening further as she leaned forward, her sharp eyes sweeping over you with maternal precision. Her hands moved deftly as she checked your ankle, her touch light yet methodical. When she saw the faint marks left behind by your injuries, her lips pressed into a thin line, but her expression quickly morphed into one of quiet pride.

“These have already begun to heal,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Quick thinking, and your technique was flawless. If nothing else, I can see you took my lessons to heart.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her obvious gloating. “I didn’t have much choice,” you replied lightly. “It was that or worse.”

“That,” she said with a knowing smile, “is exactly what I taught you. You’ve made me proud, my darling. Even your binding work on these wounds is excellent, though it’s high time they were changed.”

With practiced ease, she removed the bandages, inspecting each mark carefully before conjuring a soft glow around her hands. The warmth of her magic soothed the lingering aches as she worked. Fresh bandages appeared at her side, summoned with a flick of her fingers, and she replaced the old ones with an efficiency that spoke to years of experience.

Satisfied with her work, she turned her attention to Sybil, who watched the proceedings with quiet patience. “Now, let’s see about you,” she murmured, crouching slightly as she reached out toward her.

Sybil tilted her head, her large, intelligent eyes locking onto your Mom’s. After a moment’s hesitation, she allowed the inspection. “Remarkable resilience,” she remarked, her voice tinged with admiration. “She’s a true reflection of her master’s skill. But even she needs rest.”

Barghest lifted her head slightly at the remark, her ears flicking forward as if to assess Sybil once more before settling back down again.

With Sybil’s examination complete, your Mom nodded in satisfaction. “There we are. Now, no arguments—you’ll have tea and something to eat before I let you do anything else.”

As if on cue, Horangi returned, carrying a tray laden with steaming tea, biscuits, and small plates of fruit. His expression was as cool as he set it down on the low table before you. “Tea,” he announced curtly.

“Thank you, Horangi,” your Mom said warmly, her tone cutting through his frostiness like sunlight through mist. “We’ll manage from here.”

You poured yourself a cup, the warm aroma calming your frayed nerves as you leaned back into the chair. Sybil sniffed at the tray, her nose twitching curiously as you passed her a small piece of biscuit. When Horangi offered her another, she snorted, turning her head with a pointedly disdainful flick of her tail.

Your Mom chuckled softly, shaking her head. “She’s as particular as her mistress.”

With the tea and bandages sorted, your Mom clapped her hands, signaling the end of your brief respite. Her gaze softened as it rested on you, though the warmth didn’t mask the firmness in her tone. “That’s enough for now, darling. Go to your room. It’s been prepared and left untouched since the day you left.”

The words landed with an unmistakable weight, unspoken tension crackling faintly in the air between you. For a moment, you considered saying something, but the words died on your tongue. Instead, you gave a curt nod, rising to your feet as Sybil stretched and followed close at your side. Barghest didn't move from her place, but you could feel her watching the two of you go.

The door opened before you could reach it, and there stood König, his towering presence filling the doorway. His gaze immediately dropped to you, scanning your face for any sign of distress . Still, he said nothing, but his intent was clear as he stepped aside, waiting to escort you.

“König,” you started, exhaling sharply, “I don’t need—”

“Upstairs,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Your room.”

You frowned but knew better than to argue further. He didn’t push; he simply waited, his quiet resolve enough to make you give in with a sigh. His hand hovered near your lower back, not touching but close enough to guide you as you left the sitting room.

The climb up the grand staircase was heavier than it should have been. As you ascended, the apprentices of the coven—a mix of young women in training and those tending to the estate��moved about their tasks. Some bowed their heads respectfully, their gazes averted as they murmured greetings. Others, less acquainted with you, whispered amongst themselves, their curiosity poorly hidden.

“Is that her?” one murmured, her voice barely audible but sharp enough to reach your ears. “The young lady who ran away?”

“She is,” another replied, her tone hushed with a mix of awe and skepticism. “The heir.”

The words pricked at your composure, but you forced your expression to remain neutral, your stride steady. König, however, shot them a sharp glance over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes silencing the whispers instantly. His imposing presence alone was enough to scatter their murmurs, leaving only the faint shuffle of their footsteps.

“You didn't have to—” you started again, but König interrupted with a quiet, unyielding tone. “I do.”

When you reached your room, he stepped ahead of you, opening the door with a slow push. The air inside was still and heavy, thick with the weight of time passed. Everything was exactly as you’d left it—the furniture untouched, the books neatly stacked, and the faint scent of your perfume lingering as though it had waited for you to return.

Sybil padded inside first, hopping onto the bed and curling up in its center with an air of practiced ease, as if reclaiming her territory. You lingered in the doorway, your gaze sweeping the room. What should have been comforting instead felt stifling, the untouched state of the room more of a reminder than a reprieve.

König stepped aside to let you enter fully, his eyes following your every movement. “It’s the same,” he said softly, almost as though the words were for himself.

“It’s suffocating,” you admitted quietly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the desk. The room, with all its familiarity, felt like a cage—one you’d thought you’d escaped.

König frowned slightly but said nothing, his expression under his mask unreadable as always. After a moment, he reached down and gently picked up your bag from where he’d set it near the doorway, placing it on the bed beside Sybil.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said finally, his tone softer than before. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you as if searching for something, but then he gave a small nod. “I’ll be close if you need anything.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, his heavy steps retreating down the hall. You sighed, closing the door behind him, and leaned back against it. The stillness of the room pressed down on you, and though Sybil’s steady presence was a comfort, the weight of the past seemed to close in.

Crossing to the window, you pushed it open, letting the cool evening air sweep into the room. It helped—if only a little.

As you moved around the room, a soft knock came at the door. Sybil, ever vigilant, lifted her head from her paws, her ears perking. Before you could say anything, the door creaked open, revealing a young girl you didn’t recognize. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, her wide eyes hesitant as she stepped inside, balancing a neatly folded pile of clothes in her arms.

“These are for you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a nervous edge. “Lady Le Fay picked them out herself.”

Your gaze flicked to the clothes—exquisitely made, as always. Their elegance spoke of your Mother’s impeccable standards, her expectations woven into every stitch. You nodded, a simple acknowledgment, and reached for the garments, but the girl hesitated, her hands tightening on the fabric for just a moment before releasing it.

“I’ll help you,” she offered quickly, setting the pile down on the bed. She busied herself with smoothing the wrinkles, her nervous energy filling the room. As she worked, she glanced up at you, her expression uncertain. “I—I know it’s not my place, but… I wanted to say something.”

You arched a brow, motioning for her to continue as you picked up the blouse, the material cool against your fingertips.

“I think… what you did—leaving, I mean—was brave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words hung in the air, heavy with risk. “I know most of the others don’t see it that way, but I do.”

Her admission caught you off guard. You paused, meeting her gaze, and she flushed under your scrutiny, her hands wringing nervously. “I just think that… if more of us thought like you, maybe this place wouldn’t feel so—” She hesitated, her words catching on the edge of something unspoken. “So oppressive.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips, though you tried to suppress it. “Oppressive,” you repeated softly, the word tasting both foreign and familiar on your tongue.

The girl straightened, her expression shifting as if she regretted her honesty. “Not that I’m ungrateful,” she added quickly. “Our lives are good. Better than most. It’s just…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if the rest of the sentence was too dangerous to utter.

You turned toward her fully, folding the blouse carefully in your hands. “You’re not wrong,” you said after a beat. “But you’re also not ready to say it out loud. Not here.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought she might argue. Instead, she nodded, a faint look of understanding passing over her features. “Thank you,” she whispered, dipping her head respectfully. “I’ll leave you to finish.”

With that, she slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her. You stared at the closed door for a moment, the tension in your chest knotting tighter. Sybil padded closer, her head nudging your leg.

“Brave,” you murmured to yourself as you began dressing, the word echoing in your mind. It wasn’t how you’d ever seen it. Foolish, reckless, selfish—all those had been easier to accept. But brave? It felt foreign, like a coat you weren’t sure how to wear.

As you fastened the final button, Sybil huffed softly. You knelt to scratch behind her ears, her steady gaze meeting yours as if she, too, approved of the sentiment. “Maybe,” you said quietly, “just maybe.”

. . .

The silence after Alejandro and Rudy’s revelations was suffocating, a tangible weight pressing down on the room. Laswell had gone upstairs to deal with Leah, leaving the pack to sit with the unbearable truth laid out before them.

At the centre of the table sat the nail, sealed in a small glass flask. It was a stark reminder of everything they had ignored, every warning they had missed. Alejandro and Rudy had placed it there when they began their explanation, a silent indictment of the pack’s failure to see what had been festering under their noses.

Price sat at the head of the table, his expression was unreadable, but the lines around his mouth and the set of his jaw betrayed his inner turmoil. He’d barely spoken during their explanation, his hand resting heavily on the table, fingers occasionally twitching as if itching to grip something—anything.

Gaz sat at the table, his face buried in his hands, silent tears slipping through his fingers. His knee, usually bouncing with nervous energy, was still for once, the tension in his body radiating a quiet devastation. The guilt tore through him like claws—how had they let it get this far? How had they hurt you so deeply, so irreparably?

Johnny, unable to bear it, had bolted from the room. His overgrown hair whipped behind him as he fled, his footsteps heavy and uneven. The door slammed somewhere in the distance, and they all knew he was headed back to the woods, a place he’d always gone to hide when the world became too much.

Price’s gaze moved to Ghost, who hadn’t uttered a word since the conversation began. “Simon,” he said, his voice firm but quieter.

Ghost didn’t move. His hands were still planted on the table, his head bowed, his broad shoulders tense. Price’s tone softened, though the weight of his words remained. “You’ve got to say something. Anything.”

Still, he said nothing, his mind an unrelenting whirlwind of fragmented memories, half-formed regrets, and the crushing realisation of what he’d done. He’d been the one who brought Leah into their lives. But worst of all, he’d hurt you. Attacked you and Sybil.

The reality had settled over him like a lead cloak, immobilising him.

Alejandro, standing by the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. “What’s the point of talking? He knows what he did.” His sharp gaze cut to Price. “But don’t think for a second that any of you are off the hook. You all failed her.”

“Enough,” Price said sharply, his tone commanding. “We know. Don’t you think we bloody know?”

Alejandro smirked coldly, his gaze unwavering. “Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.”

Rudy, standing nearby, placed a calming hand on Alejandro’s arm. “Ale, we’ve said what we came to say. Let them deal with it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, but his eyes burned with disdain as he looked at them.

Gaz swallowed hard, “But who… who did this? Who’s responsible?”

Alejandro shrugged, brow furrowed. “We don’t know exactly, yet at least. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing.”

Price exhaled heavily, his hand running over his face as if trying to push back the weight of the truth. “You’re saying this was all to isolate her?”

Rudy nodded solemnly. “That’s how these curses work. They isolate, divide, and weaken. She was the target from the start. You? You were just tools. Puppets.”

Alejandro crossed his arms, his gaze hard. “So don’t sit here wallowing in your own self-pity. Whatever guilt you’re feeling, it’s deserved. But the real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Gaz let out a choked sound. “How… how do we fix this? How do we even begin to fix this?”

Price stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he walked to the window. His broad shoulders were rigid, as he stared out at the darkening horizon. “For now,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute, “we leave her alone. Like I said, we need to fix ourselves first, we have no right to even think about going after her.”

Alejandro and Rudy exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Rudy sighed, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “We’ll keep looking,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the broken pack. “Whoever’s responsible for this won’t get away with it. When we know, we’ll keep you posted.”

Alejandro gave a firm nod, his expression unyielding. “But don’t expect miracles from us,” he added sharply.

They turned toward the door, the weight of their words settling like ash in the room. Rudy paused briefly, glancing back at the pack with a flicker of hesitation. But before they could leave, Ghost finally spoke.

His voice was low, gravelly, like the sound of rocks grinding together. “Is she… okay?”

Alejandro stopped, his hand resting on the doorframe. Rudy looked at him, eyebrows furrowing, but Alejandro didn’t move.

“You should know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?” he said flatly. “You know her best.”

Ghost stayed silent, his head bowing ever so slightly. Deep down, he already knew. The part of him that loved you with every fiber of his being—despite feeling unworthy of it—knew that you were okay, wherever you were. But that knowledge didn’t ease the hollow ache inside him.

With that, the front door closed with a heavy thud, leaving the pack alone once again.

Price stood at the window, unmoving, the faint glow of his nth cigar's ember casting a dim light in the darkening room. His shoulders were tense, the weight of his failures settling heavily on him, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke.

“Get it together,” he said, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. ��We’ve all failed her. But if she’s still out there, we owe it to her to fix this.”

Ghost remained at the table, his eyes fixed on the cursed nail. The silence that followed was more damning than anything that had been said.

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

Text

He's A Killer

Summary: She’s known among her family and friends for being single, and everyone worries about her. Determined to prove them wrong, she finally makes her first move, only to discover that the person she likes is dangerous.

The second part : He's The Sweetest

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The emergency room of St. Grace Medical Center buzzes with activity. Doctors and nurses move swiftly, handling patients with precision. Voices blur together in the chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic fills the air.

You're inside the medical storage room, scanning shelves for the supplies the doctor requested: syringes, tubes, and medication vials. Besides, you is Clara, your co-worker and friend, busy sorting through trays.

"I told you I had that family dinner, right?" you say, picking up a pack of syringes.

"Yeah, how was it?" Clara asks, not looking up from the tray she's organizing.

“Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful,” you reply, shaking your head in exasperation.

Clara glances at you, a smirk forming. "Wow, three times? That bad, huh?"

The memory flashes through your mind: Sunday, family dinner. You sit across from your aunts, who seem more interested in your love life than the meal.

"Your mom’s worried about you, you know," one of your aunts says between bites. "She didn't tell you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings," another aunt adds. "You’re already over 30; the clock is ticking." "My friend’s son works at the oil company. I could get his contact if you want. He’s a good catch."

Back in the storage room, Clara's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Well, you probably won’t like this, but your aunt’s kinda right. I mean, bestie, I’m only saying this because I care about you."

You hum, trying to keep your focus on entering patient data into the system. Clara means well, but the topic is starting to get old.

“Honey, you’re a great friend and an amazing co-worker. Everyone here relies on you because you’re so reliable. You know why?” Clara’s voice softens as she leans in. “Because you’re single. You don’t have someone waiting for you, or someone to hang out with on Saturdays and Sundays.”

You freeze for a moment, glancing up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Please, go out and talk to someone," she continues. "You've been single for way too long. You deserve some love, girl. It’s not like you need to get married right away.”

Clara shudders, as if the thought gives her chills. “No, not at all! Just, you know, make friends first?” She winks playfully before gathering a tray of supplies and heading out to assist the doctor.

Alone in the storage room, you sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment. Clara means well, but every time someone offers to introduce you to someone, it irks you. You know you’ve been single for a long time—your whole life, really—but it’s not that you don’t want a relationship.

It’s complicated.

You've seen too many relationships fall apart. Your parents, your aunts, your cousins—all their stories weigh on you. The cheating, the abuse, the constant reminders from your cousins: “Don’t get married.” It’s no wonder you’re hesitant.

But what stings the most is finding out your father, who you always thought was a devoted husband, had cheated on your mom. That betrayal shaped your fears. You don’t want to end up like her—trapped in a painful, one-sided marriage.

Part of you is scared of commitment, scared of getting hurt. But another part of you craves it—a real connection. The irony of it all is that the same aunts pushing you to settle down are stuck in abusive marriages themselves. It’s almost comedic, in a sad, twisted way.

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside as you gather the last of the supplies.

🐼🐼🐼🐼🐼

Working at ER felt like living in a whirlwind. You rarely went home, often staying for almost 24 hours at a time. The chaos of patients coming in with life-threatening injuries, doctors shouting orders, and the constant rush to save lives left you drained but fulfilled. When you finally had a day off, there was only one thing you looked forward to—visiting the zoo to see your favorite animal: the panda. 🐼

You’ve always had a soft spot for pandas. Something about their calm, slow movements and gentle nature soothed you. The baby panda, in particular, had become your little escape. Watching it tumble around, clumsily explore, or nibble on bamboo always brought you a sense of peace. You had its appearances memorized on your schedule since it wasn’t allowed out every day.

Today was one of those rare days off, and you made your way to the zoo, excited to see the baby panda. But when you arrived, the mood shifted. A zoo employee stood in front of the panda enclosure, addressing the crowd of disappointed families.

“Sorry folks, the panda viewing has been rescheduled. We have made an announcement on our social media last week—we worked on it all night, without sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Without sleep? Try handling an ER at peak hours. Annoyed but resigned, you sighed and checked the next available viewing time. As the crowd started dispersing, one person caught your attention.

A tall man stood at the panda window, his broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. He sighed deeply before turning around. That’s when your eyes met. It wasn’t intentional, but the sudden connection caught you off guard. Quickly, you bowed your head and hurried away, feeling your cheeks warm from the brief moment.

The next day, you returned to the zoo, and this time, the baby panda was out. You joined the crowd, eager to see your favorite animal. The baby panda was as adorable as ever, tumbling clumsily around its habitat. You found yourself smiling, the sight of it immediately calming your busy mind. But as you glanced around, you saw him again—the tall man from yesterday. He was also watching the panda, just as captivated as the rest of the crowd.

The panda display ended too soon, and just as you were about to leave, the sky opened up and rain started pouring. The panda enclosure was far from the main entrance, and there was no shelter nearby. Luckily, you always carried an umbrella. As you received a message from the hospital calling you in for an emergency, you saw other visitors quickly opening their umbrellas and leaving one by one.

Soon, it was just you and the tall man left in the rain.

You noticed him glancing at his watch, pacing back and forth like he was debating whether to make a run for it. His indecision made you smile. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the weather. Without thinking much of it, you walked up to him, holding out your umbrella.

“Ehm,” you said, voice slightly raised over the sound of the rain. “Want to walk to the gate together?”

His eyes flicked to the umbrella in your hand before he gave you a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, stepping under it with you.

The walk was quiet, the sound of the rain drumming on the umbrella louder than any conversation you might have had. It should have felt awkward—after all, you were strangers—but the rain filled the silence. He stayed close to your side, even leaning a little toward you to make sure you weren’t getting wet. You noticed his left side was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. Is he a gentleman? you wondered as you both continued walking.

When you finally reached the entrance, you closed your umbrella. The man pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s pretty far,” he said, glancing toward the rain-soaked lot.

“I’ve got to go too,” you replied, showing him your phone. “I booked a car from the app. It should be here soon.”

He nodded, still standing close. You hesitated for a moment, then held out the umbrella to him. “Here. Take this. It’s better than running through the rain.”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the umbrella. “How do I return this to you?”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It’s alright. I have more. But… if you really want to return it, you can find me at the hospital E.R. St. Grace Medical Center.”

His lips curled into a small smile, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Alright then, the hospital. I’ll remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, your car pulled up. You gave him one last smile, ducking into the back seat, and as you drove off, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see him again.

🐼🐼🐼🐼

The night shift at St. Grace Medical Center had just begun, but unlike most nights, the ER was unusually quiet. A handful of patients sat in the waiting area, the usual chaos replaced by a lull. The soft beeping of monitors filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of paperwork or a distant cough.

Clara, your ever-observant co-worker, stood beside you, arms crossed, her brow raised in curiosity. "You look different tonight. What’s going on?" She tilted her head, smirking slightly.

You paused, your lips twitching into a small smile. "Well… I met this guy when I went to see my favorite panda."

Clara’s smirk grew wide. “Ah, the fluffy black and white mammals. So, what makes this guy more special than your favorite animal?”

You were about to answer when a loud commotion broke out near the entrance. A drunk patient stumbled through the doors, yelling incoherently, bumping into chairs, and causing a scene.

“Perfect timing,” you muttered under your breath.

Clara groaned. "Here we go."

You both rushed over to try and calm him down. He was clearly in no state to be reasoned with, slurring his words and swaying dangerously as he tried to grab hold of another patient’s wheelchair.

“Sir, you need to sit down,” you said, holding up your hands in a calming gesture.

The man blinked at you, confused, then suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab your arm. Panic surged through you, but before he could make contact, a firm hand caught the drunk man's wrist.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind you.

You turned around, startled to see him—the man from the zoo. The one who borrowed your umbrella. He stood tall, his grip firm but not aggressive as he guided the drunk man back into a chair. The drunk patient, surprised by the sudden interference, mumbled something incoherent but didn’t resist.

Relief washed over you, and you let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten ugly.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s quiet here,” he said casually.

You quickly shook your head, eyes widening. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it.”

He chuckled at your reaction, then glanced down at your name tag. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his smile seep into you. "Nice to meet you too… Bucky."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar item—your umbrella. “Sorry I’m late returning this. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of your usual humor return. “Hey, as panda lovers, we have to help each other out, right?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, Bucky laughed—a genuine, warm sound. “You’re right. We do.” Then, as if to return the favor for your kindness, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Actually, I have something for you.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, until you unfolded the paper. Your eyes widened in disbelief—it was a VIP ticket for a face-to-face panda experience, something you had only dreamed about.

“What? How did you get this?” you asked, astonished.

Bucky smiled, a little mischievously. “I’ve got some connections.”

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Bucky waved and left the hospital. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara whistled softly behind you.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is someone making panda dates now?”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. "It’s not like that, Clara."

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it’s all innocent.”

The next day, you found yourself back at the zoo, clutching your VIP ticket nervously. And there he was again—Bucky, standing near the entrance, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that same easy smile.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. The two of you walked together into the building, and soon, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived: you were face to face with the baby panda.

Both of you were silent as the tiny creature waddled toward you. The panda was as adorable as you had imagined, its soft fur and curious little eyes making your heart melt. Bucky stood next to you, just as captivated. When the panda let out a small squeak, you both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, before grinning like kids.

As you held the baby panda for a brief moment, you felt all the exhaustion from your long shifts melt away. It was like a small pocket of happiness you hadn’t realized you needed. You could hear Bucky chuckling softly beside you, clearly sharing the same sentiment.

“Why pandas?” he asked softly after a while, turning to look at you.

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re just… calming. Whenever I’m tired from the hospital or life, looking at them helps. It’s like all the stress just melts away.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still on the baby panda. “I get it. My job is… well, it’s tiring. Dangerous too. But seeing animals like this, being cuddled, living peacefully—it helps. Makes me feel like there’s still good out there.”

You glanced at him curiously, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Sounds like a tough job,” you said carefully.

Bucky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah… it can be.”

It's his turn to hold and cuddle the baby panda, and the sight is nothing short of heartwarming. The little creature, with its round face and soft, fuzzy coat, snuggles into his arms as he cradles it gently. Bucky’s eyes light up with a mix of joy and awe, his broad smile breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth, as the panda nuzzles against his chest, completely at ease.

There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels heavy with something unsaid, as he shifts his gaze from the panda to you. The moment stretches out, filled with unspoken tension.

Then, suddenly, he turns toward you, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his expression. “You know… if you’re not busy sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?” His cheeks flush slightly, as if he’s unsure how his invitation will be received, but the sincerity in his eyes reveals his hopefulness.

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it, which made it all the more endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His face lit up, the awkward tension lifting. “Great,” he said, looking almost relieved. “I’ll, uh, message you then?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the beginnings of a connection you hadn’t expected. “I’d like that a lot.”

🐼🐼🐼🐼

Your relationship with Bucky started innocently enough, bonding over your shared love for pandas and animals. What began as casual conversations about your common interests slowly grew deeper. The two of you spent more time together, texting throughout the day, meeting for coffee, or watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t long before you started spending nights at each other’s places. The closeness felt natural, and his easygoing demeanor made you feel safe.

Clara, of course, couldn’t resist teasing you about it. One evening during a shift, she shot you a knowing look. “You know,” she began with a smirk, “you should introduce him to your family. I bet his shadow alone could shut them up.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "One step at a time, Clara. I don't want him to run away after meeting my family."

Over time, your relationship with Bucky deepened, and intimacy followed. You spent nights at his apartment, and he did the same at yours. The affection between you two was comfortable and warm. Bucky worked as a contractor, which sometimes took him out of town for a while. That’s why, one day, he handed you the key to his apartment with a smile.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case you need to check on Alpine.”

Alpine was his cat, a fluffy white ball of fur who quickly won your heart. You adored her, and it was easy to see why Bucky did too.

One day, on your day off, you decided to spend the afternoon at Bucky’s place. It was quiet and cozy, perfect for unwinding after a long week. His salary as a contractor must be high enough that he can afford this house.

Alpine was curled up on your lap as you sat on the couch, absentmindedly stroking her soft fur. The gentle purrs coming from her were soothing.

Suddenly, Alpine’s ears perked up, and before you knew it, she jumped from your lap and padded over to the bookshelf. You watched curiously as she stretched her paws toward one of the shelves.

“What are you up to, little one?” you murmured, getting up to see what had caught her attention. As you reached out to move a book, you heard a soft click. Before you could react, the bookshelf started to shift, revealing a hidden door.

Your heart raced as you hesitated for a moment, but when Alpine darted through the opening, you knew you couldn’t just leave her. Steeling your nerves, you stepped inside.

The room you entered was nothing like the cozy, homey apartment you knew. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene before you. Guns lined the walls, various types of explosives were neatly arranged on shelves, and papers filled with detailed information were pinned to a whiteboard. It looked like something straight out of a spy movie—except it wasn’t a movie. It was real.

“When I finally make a move, turns out the man I like is a killer,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you picked up Alpine and quickly backed out of the room. You closed the secret door, your mind racing.

What do I do now?

You paced back and forth in the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts spiraled as you tried to process what you had just seen. Finally, in a panic, you grabbed your phone and dialed Clara.

After a couple of rings, her voice came through, light and cheery. “Yo, girls, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, still clutching Alpine close to you. “Clara…”

“Yeah?” Her tone shifted slightly, sensing something was off.

You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky as you held Alpine close to your chest, “I think my boyfriend is a hitman."

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