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wndaswife · 7 days

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girl next door | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Wanda attempts to become closer with the young woman who moved in beside her while balancing her work and personal life, though she’s doubtful of the possibility that you might be interested in her at all.

Word count: 23 310

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff, shy idiots flirting, wanda is a cutie and kind of a pervert, specified age-gap, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, dildo usage, praise, wanda doesn’t know what mommy kink is yet but you can tell she’d be into it, milf!wanda maximoff, lesbian reader

Checking her rear mirror before signalling left and merging into the adjacent lane, Wanda drove around the moving truck parked outside of one of the townhouse buildings she lived beside. Beside her detached house was a townhouse owned and put up for rent for temporary long-stay renters, and often, around the beginning of the summer or the start of September, Wanda would often see professionals working in Jersey City moving in.

It was the start of the summer now, and there were presently movers helping to carry small pieces of furniture through the open townhouse doors. It was furnished inside, Wanda assumed, though the furniture they were bringing in seemed to be building up to some sort of office — perhaps there was an extra empty room in there for renters, and whoever was moving in was setting up a workspace.

Wanda nearly missed her driveway while she was scrutinising everything the movers were bringing in, trying to pin down whoever it was that was renting. When Wanda stepped out and shut the car door, she could see a young woman from above the roof of her car stepping out of the townhouse’s front door, talking with the movers and letting them know where to place the furniture.

Just when it seemed that the young woman’s gaze shifted over to Wanda, who was, admittedly, staring a bit too hard, Wanda’s phone buzzed with an incoming phone call and she quickly broke eye contact to pick it up. She locked her car and walked up to her front door, carrying a stack of paperwork of upcoming orders that she needed to sort through.

She thought of you again while making dinner, curious about you for some reason she didn’t quite understand. She wondered if you were just a younger relative helping the actual renter move in, or if someone who looked as young as you had really moved into Westview by herself just beside her.

From the kitchen island counter where she was standing eating her dinner, Wanda looked through the living room window where she could watch you continue to unpack a few small things from the back of your trunk. She regarded you curiously; perhaps it was your age or the fact that you seemed to have moved in alone that seemed to be interesting to her, though Wanda wasn’t sure why any of that would necessarily pique her interest as she felt like it had.

In the morning, Wanda prepared for the twins’ arrival in the afternoon when she’d have to pick them up after work, waking up with enough time to clean.

Vision, Wanda’s ex-husband, worked as an attorney in New Jersey and often stayed in New York, but when it was his turn with the twins, he stayed in New Jersey — much closer to Westview.

Wanda had always counted herself as lucky for having been married to and having children with a good man. Though she and Vision were necessarily divorced, she never had to worry about what would become of their connection, and she knew that their relationship wouldn’t regress into something difficult between the both of them nor with their children.

However it became rather clear as their relationship progressed, especially after they had children, that the directions of their ambitions and perspectives of their lives were diverting from each other; nothing about them aligned except for their children.

Vision was Wanda’s neighbour when she first moved into her apartment once arriving in America alone. He was smart and very kind and showed her around. He was a westernised Brit, which was palatable for Wanda who found security with a man who knew so much about the country she had just moved to, but who also wasn’t overbearing, and was rather well-mannered and docile.

When they first met, Vision was finishing his second last year of law school, and Wanda didn’t have much going on for herself until she made plans to open a business. It all went quite fast after they married; Vision passed his bar and Wanda’s floral shop had begun to find its footing, and they decided to finally have a family.

But Vision’s career and dreams took him further than what Westview could offer, and Wanda wasn’t the same young woman with wide-eyes and unsteady footing like she was when they met — she had dreams too, and children.

By the time the twins turned two, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that things were different. Their dynamic had changed, they weren’t of the same mind as they used to be, and Vision could tell that Wanda had changed too; she hadn’t intended to be distant, but it always felt like her life took place somewhere her husband couldn’t reach. She was changing and growing, and she didn’t need a crutch to lean on anymore.

She wasn’t as unsteady and lost as she used to be.

By the time she was leaving the house, it should’ve been around the time that Vision was dropping the twins off, but instead, she opened the door to see them running up the porch stairs.

Surprised at the way they rushed passed her, both giving her a quick hello before they ran up the stairs, Wanda stuttered, “What–”

“They forgot their class projects,” Vision explained with an awkward smile, stepping onto the porch and watching Tommy and Billy dash into their rooms.

“The Bristol boards?”

He nodded.

“Did they behave?” she asked, holding her purse with both hands in front of her.

“Of course,” her ex-husband answered with a smile. “We went to the cinema on Friday. Tommy cried during the final scene and Billy was quite supportive.”

Wanda and Vision shared a laugh, and chatted about how it was going with the new firm he was with and about Wanda’s shop, until the twins came back down holding their school projects.

“Good luck on your presentations today,” Wanda told them and leaned down, holding each of their faces delicately and kissing each of their foreheads.

“Thank you, mama,” Billy replied cheerily and gave her the best hug he could with his other arm full of Bristol board.

Vision and Wanda spoke a little more about when he would pick them up this weekend for their grandfather’s birthday, which Wanda couldn’t attend because she had promised to help set up a town event celebrating the start of the new season.

Westview was a popular destination during the Spring for it was located in a relatively secluded area of New Jersey, and well-known for its nature reserves, which also meant Westview well-decorated for the season.

That also meant Wanda and her floral shop were always hard at work throughout the start of Spring.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda saw your car pull into the driveway, and for a moment she saw you briefly running your eyes over her and Vision and the twins in the car.

Throughout the day, Wanda thought of you for the same reason as she did last night, and with the same degree of inexplicability. While she signed and read through paperwork for orders and put together arrangements alongside her employees, she thought of how long you might be renting and where you’d come from. She thought of the kind of flowers you might like; she tried her best to recall the furniture and items you’d brought in yesterday to try and pin down your style.

Once she realised how much she’d been thinking of you and realising it was strange that she kept acting as if she hadn’t been thinking of you, Wanda decided to put together a bouquet for you as a welcome gift.

After she picked the twins up from school, she was sure to keep the bouquet in its vase secured in the passenger’s seat, checking on it occasionally as she spoke with the boys about how their days and presentations went.

“Go put your things away,” Wanda told them as she ushered them through the front door, “I’ll come to help you with your homework in just a minute.” She locked the front door and headed back to her car, reaching into the passenger’s seat for the bouquet.

Your car was in the driveway, and she could see some movement through the window beside the dining room.

For the first time since she even thought to put the bouquet together, Wanda wondered if she was coming off too strong, or even too strange. After all, why would the older woman neighbouring you introduce herself with a bouquet of flowers?

Wanda could justify herself to you; she owned a floral shop and was working all day and didn’t have time to give you anything else and she always made a point to be friendly to neighbours.

Before she could even justify herself to herself, she was already knocking on your front door holding the vase securely with two hands. She heard some rustling beyond the door, and a few chaotic tumbles, before the front door opened and Wanda got a good look at you for the first time.

You were young — a college student, she presumed — and pretty.

Wanda felt her words catch in her throat and she internally panicked trying to get some form of an introduction out. She hadn’t known what she had expected from you when she knocked on your door or what unsuspecting part of her curiosity was taken aback by your appearance, but Wanda forced out an introduction as normal-seeming as she could.

“Hi,” she said with a friendly smile, “I’m Wanda Maximoff, your next-door neighbour.”

Panicked and deciding that her initial introduction wasn’t enough, she added, “I thought I should introduce myself.”

She couldn’t seem to stop rambling. “A-And I work at a floral shop in the shopping district, hence the flowers,” she explained then held the vase out to you.

You seemed genuinely happy and appreciative when you replied, “Oh, that’s so nice of you! Thank you so much.” Wanda was grateful when you took the bouquet from her and didn’t look like you thought the gesture was strange.

“I was hoping I might be able to meet some people from the neighbourhood soon and maybe explore Westview a little,” you told her, “but I’ve just been so busy unpacking — so thank you, really.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself. “I saw you this morning and thought to say hello today too, but I think I’ve just been so overwhelmed with the move.”

Wanda thought you were sweet and rather cute. She attributed it to the fact that you stood out from the other people of Westview who were older and a bit less spry. “It’s normal to be a bit overwhelmed once first moving into a new place,” she told you supportively. “I’m sure you’ll adjust in no time; Westview is easy to get comfortable in.”

“Thank you,” you answered graciously. “I’m happy to finally be able to talk to someone here.”

You were trusting and talkative too, Wanda noted.

“I would be happy to show you around whenever you have some free time,” Wanda found herself offering quicker than she could think through what she was saying. She added, trying to save her first impression, “Only if you don’t mind — I assume you’re a student and rather busy.”

“I would really love to have a tour!” you answered enthusiastically. “Thank you so much. I feel adjusted to Westview already.”

Wanda felt herself flush, feeling appreciated and flattered by your words.

“Would it be okay if we exchanged numbers?” you asked. “I can let you know when I’m free next! I should be sometime at the end of the week; I don’t start my work until next week.”

“O-Of course, that’s completely okay,” Wanda said with a wide neighbourly smile, stuttering slightly for a reason she couldn’t exactly explain to herself. It was normal to exchange numbers with acquaintances, but the idea of you asking for her number made her feel excited.

You kept taking her by surprise, though she wasn’t sure why.

For the rest of the night, Wanda tended to the twins — helping them with their homework, making them dinner, and playing Minecraft with them before bed.

They said she was bad at it, but they always asked for her to play with them.

As she got ready in her washroom after putting the boys to bed, Wanda picked up her phone at the sound of a text and found a message from you: Hi Ms Maximoff, it’s Y/N! Thanks again for the flowers, they’re beautiful.

The way in which you addressed her was all too formal, but there was something about how polite and proper it was that she enjoyed, even if it made her feel a little old.

While Wanda found herself smiling at her phone and thinking up a way to reply, you texted again: You mentioned you worked at a floral shop in town. Where is it located?

Eventually, you spoke to her about what you were studying and what you were in Westview for and for how long. She talked about Tommy and Billy and their father and when she opened her business. You and Wanda continued to text you back and forth until she realised she had stayed up about thirty minutes past when she planned to sleep, and she had to tell you goodnight.

Wanda couldn’t remember the last time someone seemed so genuinely interested in her life and interested in sharing things about themselves with her. It made her feel interesting and paid attention to.

In the morning immediately after dropping the twins off and saying goodbye to them, her thoughts went to you and the conversation you shared together last night.

You had just graduated and were now doing research with a professor, and you wanted to explore some research before beginning your Master’s. Since your professor’s research institute was located closer to Westview than northern New Jersey, you decided to move to Westview for the duration of your six-month research period.

Around the beginning of the day Wanda thought of you the most, wondering particularly about when she might see you again and when you might be free, until the afternoon rolled around when her scheduled employees came in and she started picking up the pace with her orders and arrangements.

It wasn’t a large shop, so there were typically four people working there at a time. One dealt with walk-in orders and those who wanted to purchase anything on display in the front, another with shipments and administrative work, and two that helped with preparing and putting together the arrangements.

Wanda oversaw and managed all of it along with Agatha, who she’d opened the shop with, so she worked each day aside from Fridays and Saturdays — unless she needed to be at work — and Sundays when the shop was closed.

Spring was busy for them, but Westview was a rather small town and their shop was also local and a bit smaller. However, it was from Wanda’s shop that businesses and sometimes the town ordered intricate arrangements for events or for statement display pieces.

But by the late afternoon, the shop had a visitor that Wanda hadn’t expected.

“Y/N,” Wanda uttered at the sight of you walking into the shop, looking around at the vases and flowers and succulents on display.

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile once you walked up to the cash register.

Wanda’s smile widened and she felt herself excited and unsteady at the thought that you might have come into the shop purposely just to visit her — but she couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Are you looking for another bouquet?” she teased.

You laughed and Wanda felt her chest flutter.

“No, not yet,” you answered. “I just thought I would return the welcome favour with a gift.”

You laid a cup of tea and a pastry on the counter between the both of you and Wanda found herself speechless by your gesture — you had come just to visit her after she told you where she worked, and you had brought a gift for her too.

“I finally got the chance to walk around today, and I thought to visit the shopping district first and stopped by the café down the street to get something for you. I hope you’re okay with Oolong.”

“Y/N…” Wanda didn’t know what to say, her hands laying themselves by the tea and pastry but not having enough confidence to take them. “You really didn’t have to — and to have come all the way over here!”

You laid your hand atop of Wanda’s and she felt her cheeks flush, her eyes flickering down to your soft hand for a brief moment before looking back up at your soft expression. “But I wanted to,” you told her, then retracted your hand. “I really am grateful and I hoped to be able to make my own impression if not pay you back for the gift.”

Wanda felt so warm and she finally gave in, taking the tea and pastry and moving it closer to her and beside the cash register. “Thank you so much, that’s very kind,” she said.

To have someone think of her so much, to go out of their way during their first day free from unpacking to visit her and make such a thoughtful gesture instilled in Wanda a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time — or ever, if she really thought about it.

She felt so cared for, and seen.

“Have you been liking the town so far?” she asked.

You nodded. “Westview is really beautiful, and I’m happy to have chosen to move here,” you answered.

“But you seem busy,” you said, looking around at the employees walking behind her with papers or assortments of flowers in their hands. “Hopefully we’re both free soon so you can show me around your favourite spots.”

“I’m really looking forward to that,” Wanda replied with an eager smile.

Over the next while, Wanda’s free time completely diminished and she struggled to find any time to see you like she’d promised or even talking with you in-person or over the phone.

You sometimes see her coming back late, sometimes looking fatigued or just in a rush to finally get home, so you didn’t want to push by messaging or visiting her, intruding where you shouldn’t as a neighbour and a new friend.

You imagined that the mere thought of you must just be another task she must complete and try to fit into her schedule, so you didn’t want to impose yourself and overwhelm her.

Wanda also thought often about reaching out to you just to ask how you’d been and to let you know that she’d just been rather overwhelmed for the last two weeks, but that she’d been thinking of you and hoping her schedule might free up soon.

She felt disappointed in the timing too, because she knew that your research project had already begun.

But she thought the attempts would be fruitless and unwanted — why message you just to say she still couldn’t fulfil her promise?

There was one time you nearly had a proper conversation with her a few days ago. You were outside planting some flowers you had bought, finally having finished packing inside and deciding that it was time to decorate the exterior of your place too.

Wanda was waiting for a ride from her coworker as her car was in the shop, and she had gone out to wait for her at the same time you were outside.

She asked how your research had been going and you spoke a little about that, but you spoke more about the flowers you were planting and Wanda’s tips on how to take care of them.

The conversation ended abruptly though the both of you had plenty more to say when a brunette older woman around Wanda’s age pulled into her driveway — and in a rather gorgeous vintage car.

A few times, Wanda saw you walking around town with Dottie, a teacher at Tommy and Billy’s school and a member of the town council, and Wanda sometimes saw her at the meetings when she occasionally stopped by.

They interacted a handful of times during events, but first met when she was Tommy and Billy’s teacher. She came off as condescending, at least to Wanda, but got along just fine with Vision.

She didn’t think there was any particular reason that Dottie would dislike her, but she understood that it did sometimes happen that some people just didn’t get along by nature. But she seemed to be getting along with you just fine — quite well actually, for how often she saw you walking together.

Over time when she had begun to hear from you less, Wanda figured that perhaps you had only just wanted to make a friend in Westview, and Dottie was around far more than she was.

Wanda supposed that Dottie was perhaps a bit more enthusiastic also. She was younger than her too, which Wanda guessed was something that you might like more — perhaps you had more in common with her.

It seemed like the only thing that aligned well between you and Wanda was where you lived.

“Ms Maximoff!” you called from your driveway, and Wanda turned to see you waving at her.

It was around six in the morning, and Wanda had to head to the shop early to receive some shipments.

“Hi, Y/N,” she answered and waved back with a pleased smile.

The two of you bridged the gap between the two driveways and met in between.

“Good morning,” Wanda greeted, her smile wider upon seeing you much closer.

Your eagerness to speak with her was refreshing and quite nice.

“Morning,” you replied. “Are you heading to work?”

She nodded and explained, “I have a few shipments coming in today that I need to be there for. And you? Are you heading to your professor’s office?”

“I am, yeah,” you said, a bit wearily as if feeling sheepish.

Sometimes you felt a little shy bringing up things that made the age difference between you and Wanda all the more obvious, like how you were basically going off to school just like her kids would while she was heading off to work at a shop she owned.

Wanda was about to ask why you seemed to lack enthusiasm about heading there, but then you asked: “Can I drive you to work? I can pick you up when you’re off.”

The offer took Wanda by surprise. You were so considerate of her, and without even a second thought to it. “O-Oh, really?” she stuttered. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve been coming home late recently; I don’t want to keep you up or bother you with waiting for me.”

“I know,” you said. “I hope it’s not stalkerish — it’s by complete coincidence, I promise — but sometimes I do see you coming home a bit later. But I have some things to read for my professor today that I’ll take home to do tonight, so I’ll be up.”

“That’s… really sweet. But why go out of your way?”

She couldn’t tell because you were facing away from the sunrise so your face had casted shadow upon it, but it seemed like you were blushing as if having been caught in an act.

Wanda only regarded you with curiosity, squinting a little against the sun so she could see you better.

“I don’t want to come off as pushy, I apologise,” you quickly explained. “It was just something that came to mind.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Wanda replied, waving her hands in front of her and placing a hand on your arm reassuringly when you looked unsure of yourself. She tried to conjure up something to explain why she was so confused and surprised by your kindnesses, but was quickly shut up by her own hand at the feeling of your still arm under her palm and the meeting of your eyes with hers.

She dropped her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to sort through her thoughts for you.

The more Wanda thought about why it was so difficult to navigate your personality, the more she came to the realisation that aside from friends, and coworkers — which category, for whatever reason, Wanda didn’t think you fell into in that same informality — the only other experience she could call on was that which she had with Vision.

He was very formal and docile, and never took risks or said or did things out of what was expected. It seemed often that he was filling a role or going through the motions of things, which had never been very much of a problem for Wanda, who had thoroughly appreciated how static and steady he was.

As such, Wanda found herself often flustered and surprised by your affectionate gestures that told her you were interested in spending time with her, and spared no subtlety.

“I just feel a little guilty for having no time lately, and I haven’t really done you any favours,” she explained. “I think I just feel surprised when you take the time out of your day to think of me.”

Wanda worried that she might have embarrassed you, and she stayed silent, trying not to fuck anything else up by rambling in the way that she always felt like doing. She forgot that you had just finished your undergrad and that she was, in stark comparison, thirty-two years old, divorced, and living in a small town in New Jersey with two young kids.

Maybe she was struggling to view you in the casual way that anyone else in her shoes ought to, to see you like a neighbour or a passerby or a temporary renter of the house she lived beside.

But if not any of those came naturally to her, how did she see you?

Why did she keep thinking of how you saw Dottie?

“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t sound like I was rejecting your kindness,” she added, unable to keep quiet for even a moment.

“Why do you feel like you have to do favours for me?” you asked. “It’s okay if you do nothing for me ever, actually. I think I just like your company.”

Did you like consistency, a stable presence?

Did it bother you that she had introduced herself to you, then didn’t talk much afterwards?

Was trying to see her more a form of seeking consistency in a new town, rather than out of an actual desire of seeing her?

“I would love to get a ride from you,” Wanda told you and smiled. “Thank you. And I don’t think you come off as pushy at all.”

You and Wanda talked a lot on the drive to the shop.

She told you that she’d been extremely stressed with balancing everything and getting everything prepared in time, and always tried to finish most if not all of her work before the weekends so she could spend the most of it with her sons.

Thankfully, she’d been able to catch up with everything as the orders had died down, and she predicted that she may be finished before the upcoming weekend.

“Um, I don’t know if maybe you might not want to — so feel free to say no, since I know you have stuff going on,” you said once you parked in front of Wanda’s shop. “But I went to this really nice garden a few days ago and saw that next weekend there’s a Spring festival event, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Before Wanda could answer, you added quickly, “Again, also, I don’t wanna add to your stress.”

“Y/N,” Wanda said, softly, before reaching over to place her hand atop of yours where it laid on your thigh. “I would love to go with you. I don’t think you’re a bother, and it wouldn’t add to my stress to see you at all. In fact, I think I would thoroughly enjoy taking the weekend to relax with you.”

“Really?”

Wanda nodded and smiled. “Westview has the Spring festival every year — it’s one of the reasons I’m quite busy at the shop at the start of the season.”

“Would your kids like to go?”

“Their father is taking them to New York City this weekend, so it’ll be just you and I, if that’s okay.”

The enthusiasm written on your face at her answer made Wanda giggle.

—

“What’s got you so jolly at six in the morning?” Agatha asked as she was unloading the shipment of glass vases from the delivery truck.

“What?” Wanda asked, looking up from her bag that she had placed in the backroom to start helping her unload.

The two women had been friends since Wanda moved into Westview with Vision years ago. She was there for her before they divorced, during it, and after, and helped Wanda open her business.

In fact, Agatha was Wanda’s right-hand woman in the shop, and they worked closely in terms of their job position and responsibilities.

Agatha stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, surveying her best friend.

“What are you looking at?” Wanda inquired hastily, leaning over to try and lift up a rather large securely-wrapped vase — it was for a new store’s grand opening for this upcoming weekend, so they ordered a rather large ensemble. “Can you help me?”

She ignored Wanda’s request for help and pressed on. “Are you seeing someone?”

“What? No! I’m not seeing anyone.”

Agatha squinted and her fingers tapped distractedly against her hip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Agatha, I’m sure. Please–”

“Did you sleep with someone last night? A one-night stand, then.”

Wanda stood up straight and put her hands on her own hips defiantly. “No!” she answered with finality. “Why are you asking me all this?”

“You just look like…”

“Like what?”

“You look smitten.”

She never used the term smitten in thinking about how she felt about you, but to have someone else call it that made Wanda reevaluate her feelings toward you.

Is that how she felt?

“It’s just nice to be noticed… and-and taken care of,” Wanda said as she and Agatha started restocking the inventory room, with Wanda checking things off their checklist and taking inventory count — albeit distractedly.

“Honey,” Agatha started, setting down a planter on the table Wanda was leaning her hip on and standing in front of her. “I’m so happy that you’ve met Y/N, and she seems really sweet, but I hope you know what you’re doing with someone younger than you.”

She added, “It’s not like this is something familiar to you. The only person you’ve really been with is your ex-husband, and you were the younger woman.”

Wanda looked down at the checklist, thinking. “I don’t think I’m really expecting her to… to want anything. I don’t think she could even be interested in that,” she said. “I think maybe I should just see things from a black-and-white perspective — see things as they are.”

“Don’t get me wrong — I don’t want to deter you from pursuing who you’re interested in, Wanda,” Agatha told her. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. I know you’ve been married and that you have kids, but you have a wide-eyed view of the world. I don’t want to see you get hurt or let down.”

—

“Were you busy today?” you asked as you held the passenger door open for Wanda.

“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile as she slid in. “No — Agatha was working with me all day.”

When you got into the driver’s seat, you asked, “Who’s that?”

“She’s a good friend of mine, and we opened the shop together,” Wanda explained, buckling herself in. “How was your day?”

The conversation was so casual and almost domestic, and the comfort of being able to see you after work felt a lot like coming back home after a long day.

“I guess not so bad,” you answered, making your way home. “I was reading and taking notes all day.”

After a moment of trying to garner some confidence, Wanda spoke. “Y/N, I want to say that I really appreciate your company, and how kind you’ve been to me,” she said honestly, playing with her fingers with her hands tucked between her thighs. “I don’t have a lot of time to meet new people, and Westview is rather small, so it’s also rare for anyone to be as thoughtful as you.”

She added, “I thought I should be honest, and I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the time you take for me.”

You shifted a little in your seat, and Wanda thought maybe you were just taking a moment to choose your words carefully.

“I didn’t think you were unappreciative,” you reassured. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

Friendly.

Wanda looked at you for a few moments, studying your face, until you turned and smiled at her. She returned the smile and looked back to the road silently.

Had she embarrassed you this morning?

Was she misreading things?

She wanted to sink into the seat and fall right through to the core of the earth.

The rest of the drive was filled mostly with small talk, though it didn’t feel very awkward. However, Wanda felt like she was on edge, like she had some responsibility to be more direct or open, and she didn’t quite know how else to be anything but hesitant and unsure of herself.

She felt disappointed when you pulled into her driveway, now having been unable to communicate her affection for you properly throughout the drive.

“By the way, uh…” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly and Wanda looked at you, anxious about what you might say.

If you were going to apologise for being so forward and open with her, she wouldn’t know what to do next. She wanted to keep becoming closer with you, and to spend time with you like you’d discussed, and she wouldn’t know how to take that up on her own if you decided to apologise for everything.

“I made you dinner,” you said finally and turned around to reach in the backseat to hand Wanda a tupperware of pasta that was still quite warm. “You’re always coming back late, and I’m sometimes having dinner later because I just get caught up with the work I’m doing, so I thought I’d just make you some since I was gonna pick you up.”

You had an awkward, nervous smile on your lips and your thumb kept tapping against the lid as you spoke.

Wanda melted, her hand coming to her chest as she leaned forward to take a look at what looked like spaghetti. “Y/N, I don’t know what to say… You didn’t have to…”

She felt truly a loss for words, being entirely unable to remember the last time someone had been so considerate of her.

Since her divorce, most of Wanda’s life had been occupied by her job and her children. It wasn’t anything to complain about, and she very rarely ever did, but your kindness and attention the past little while reminded her of how infrequently she had anything new happen in her life.

“You’re so considerate of me,” she said as sincerely as she could communicate, looking up from the food and at you, who met her eyes with a soft blush before looking away.

The bashfulness of your reaction made Wanda take her bottom lip between her teeth, a small grin forming on her lips, equally as nervous but also fueled by her intrigue in you.

“Thank you for driving me and making me dinner,” Wanda said after unlocking her front door.

When she turned, you were standing on her porch looking at her expectantly, the tupperware in hand. She thought you looked so sweet… and young — just innocent.

There was something so delicate about the respectful distance the both of you kept, a lingering interest in one another, and something that just felt tense.

It made Wanda ache in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

Even with Vision, the excitement she’d felt with him was different from what she was feeling now. She was so young back when they first met, and the pull she’d felt towards him was similar to that of a lighthouse’s to a stranded sailor.

There was so much she’d yet to learn or live through when she first met him, and she often wondered how things might’ve been if she hadn’t spent so much of her time tied down.

But at the end of everything, there were the twins, and Wanda could never truly wish for anything that had happened up until now to change if it meant not having them.

If she thought about it, it seemed that most of what she did was settle for a lack of other opportunity; nothing very new or exciting happened in her life nor in Westview, and by the time she was no longer who she was when she first moved to America, she was engaged with plans for children and a future with the first man she’d met when she came here.

She suddenly felt quite determined to become close with you, for it certainly wasn’t very often that anyone paid her any mind.

Especially not someone like you.

“I really enjoy your company, Ms Maximoff, and I know you think I’m always going so far out of my way for you, but honestly, I like to be able to help,” you insisted.

Wanda felt a surge in the depths of her lower stomach and up to her chest at the polite tone of your voice and the way you looked in the warm orange of her porch light. She stepped forward and took the tupperware from you. She wrapped an arm around your upper back and pecked your cheek.

“The effort isn’t lost on me, I assure you,” she said, then pulled away with a soft smile to find your cheeks slightly flushed and your eyes darting around nervously. Her smile could only widen in response and she laughed a little, pulling away from you to head inside.

She bid you a goodbye with a wave of her hand which you returned, and Wanda closed the front door behind her.

Almost immediately once she closed the door, the twins called from their father’s phone to talk with her before they headed to bed; sometimes they called in the evenings when they were away, and especially if they’d done something fun with their father earlier.

They greeted her together: “Hi, mom!”

“Hi, boys,” she replied with a widening grin as she set her things down, balancing your tupperware in the other arm. “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

Then there came the excuses of wanting to stay up to speak with her. She thought they were cute when they were making excuses, so she pretended she didn’t catch on.

It wasn’t until after the call ended and Wanda was in the middle of eating the dinner you’d prepared for her that she finally had time to reflect on some things.

Firstly, the dinner was delicious, and so that made a marvellous impression in her mind about you as a well-put-together student who knew how to cook for herself.

Then she wondered — worried, even — if the kiss was going a bit too far. But you didn’t seem uncomfortable, and there was something about you that made Wanda think you were–

She frowned at herself, rubbing her forehead with the hand she was holding her fork in as she nearly came to a thought that she wouldn’t be able to decipher between projection and reality.

And if it were projection, that must mean there was some sort of intentionality behind it.

Maybe Agatha was right, and she really was smitten.

What would anyone else call it — a crush?

That made her nose wrinkle up as she poked at the pasta, deep in thought; older women didn’t get crushes. Older women were presently married or they got divorced.

But a college student, for crying out loud…

What was she thinking?

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at her phone, trying to repress the urge to text you about dinner as if she hadn’t just been scolding herself for the complicated feelings she was having about you.

Giving in, she set the fork down and texted you, telling you that the dinner was delicious, and moreover, that she would certainly have to find a way to pay you back and buy you a meal this weekend.

She thought she was acting ridiculous for having just previously been feeling conflicted for how she was feeling and now itching to hear a response from you.

Wanda moved her empty bowl away and hid her face in her arms, feeling helpless for the fluttery way she continued to feel in her stomach in spite of how her mind desperately tried to come up with ways to reason her thoughts of you away.

She knew what anyone would call her — a divorcée desperate for attention from a younger girl who wasn’t as caught up with life as people her age were and so, predictably, Wanda clung onto you.

But it wasn’t like she couldn’t get the attention of other people.

Once Wanda had signed up for a dating app upon Agatha’s advice, and she thought it was rather easy to find people interested in her, though often attracting men she didn’t feel very invested in at all nor whom she ever enjoyed seeing enough for a second date.

Not very often, but here and there, Wanda would be approached by men in public too.

She always thought her lack of interest was because she was too busy, and even entertained the idea that perhaps she just wasn’t cut out for any kind of relationship after her marriage.

But she didn’t feel that way at all about you. She thought you were sweet and rather cute and though she had to admit there was something about your age that enticed her, she also really enjoyed talking with you when she could over text, and often looked forward to passing by you in the driveway.

She was curious about things like your schooling and what you thought of Westview, and more about where you’d come from and how you decorated the inside of your place.

And there was a feeling deep within her chest and rising up her belly when she was around you or when you spoke with her, blushing around her or smiling in the shy way you did, that she couldn’t recall if she felt with Vision at all.

As Wanda got ready for bed and pretended like there wasn’t a reason she carried her phone with her to the washroom, she thought more about how she felt about Vision when they first met, and questioned her attraction to him.

There were times when she certainly felt attracted, though most typically when they were about to have sex and more frequently after they got married, but she couldn’t recall if the interest she felt with you this early into knowing you was ever involved in how she regarded Vision.

She just couldn’t stop thinking about how unsure and confused she was during the time of her life when they’d first met, and how that differed greatly from the place she was in now.

While getting into bed, Wanda’s phone buzzed. She picked it up faster than she’d like to admit.

You texted: Yay! Glad you like it!! I’m really looking forward to this weekend :)

A smile came to Wanda’s face as she read your text and she slowly descended into the comfort of her sheets as she replied. Perhaps she should’ve just liked the message and headed to bed, but after thinking of you for so long, she couldn’t help but want to talk a little more.

She replied: Are you still up doing work? Or are you heading to bed soon?

The response was read almost immediately and Wanda felt her heart race.

Just one more thing I have to do, then bedtime.. I hope you sleep well, Ms Maximoff <3

Wanda felt a rush surge through her and she inhaled sharply after reading the message, feeling her fingers partially frozen for a moment.

It was at a time in her relationship with you that you could start calling her by her first name, and really, the formalities made her feel a little old.

But also, there was something she liked about how polite you were — the shy smile on your face as you called her Ms Maximoff, how well-mannered you were.

And if she really thought about it… Wanda thought it placed her in a position of some authority, implying not only an age difference but a power dynamic when you addressed her.

It was new for her.

Don’t overwork yourself, Y/N :) Sweet dreams.

Wanda set her phone down and stared up at the ceiling. She wondered if you’ve ever been interested in an older woman before. Her cheeks immediately warmed at the thought — calling herself an older woman, carrying with it some sort of scandalous implication, and imagining you, someone so innocent and sweet, involved in it.

Her thoughts wandered before she could stop them, thinking of what that dynamic might be like.

Did she suit the ‘older woman’ character? Didn’t someone young like you need someone older and experienced, and confident about their sexuality? Isn’t that how these things normally went?

But she hardly knew anything, and only had one very short fling with a man since her divorce.

She’d never even been with a woman, let alone a younger girl.

Wanda turned onto her side and brought her plush blankets up to her face, the cold surface of it cooling her flushed cheeks.

But she couldn’t help but really think about it… As in, the kind of relationship and dynamic the two of you might have together if it really did happen, and if, maybe, she wasn’t making it all up.

If you had the capacity to like an older woman, that must’ve meant you had been with other girls before.

The thought of it made Wanda’s heart race.

She’d heard from Agatha the difference between being with a woman and with a man, that women were softer and smarter, knowing how to touch another woman as if she were herself, never thinking of imposing herself upon her like men did.

Sleeping with a woman is a form of masturbation, she’d said, for how women knew each other like they knew themselves.

Wanda wondered if you were as gentle with a lover as you were by your nature, for she knew that some people were vastly different in the bedroom than they were outside of it.

The thought of you exploring her body with your open palms and curved fingers, just as considerate and kind as you always were with her, a shaky ‘Ms Maximoff, is this okay?’ spilling from your lips as you moved closer–

Wanda squeezed her eyes shut and turned onto her other side, her fingers tightening around her blankets as she felt an undeniable ache growing between her thighs.

Daring to act defiantly against her sense of shame and dignity, trembling fingers slipped beneath her pajama shorts, not daring to go farther than her hips.

Her nails sunk into her right hip, scratching lightly at the skin as she held herself back, only for her thoughts to wander to the idea of your clumsy hands grabbing at her hips, your nails pressing into her skin as you pulled her closer, your breath shaky.

She took one of her pillows and lifted her blanket up, tucking it between her thighs and up against her clothed centre.

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth and hiding the top half of her face with her hand, she dared to roll her hips forward to satisfy the pressure between her thighs. But it was too dull for how her clit throbbed, desperate for further contact.

Frustrated at both how she was giving in and with how she had grown so desperate to the point of hastily pushing the pillow out of the way, she slipped her fingers past the waistband of her shorts and underwear.

The pads of her fingers met with the warmth of her sticky folds and Wanda whimpered into her pillow, turning her head and hiding from some invisible presence that she imagined was looking down at the display she was putting on.

She circled her middle finger against her clit and she shuddered, goosebumps running up her thighs as she tightly wrapped an arm around the pillow she’d previously pushed away, and she pulled it to her chest.

When she felt she was wet enough, and at the feeling of how she began tightening around nothing, her eyebrows furrowed together as she entered herself with two fingers, her thighs parting to allow her wrist some room.

She couldn’t help the way her mind went to you, not when her body urged to feel more; her thoughts summoned the thought of you, daring to imagine you beneath her, your hands running up her bare hips and up to hold her waist, the look of your face contorted with pleasure, your eyes meeting hers.

She’d never considered herself very assertive, especially not in the bedroom, but there was just something about you that awoke something in her that was completely foreign.

The idea of it excited her.

She’d never felt so… aroused.

Her thoughts gradually became more shameful, thinking about how you sounded like when you orgasmed, and particularly enjoying the idea that you’d be shy to make noise, prone to begging, and one to be eager to please your lover.

Wanda felt herself inch closer to her climax.

Maybe you’d be nervous to be with an older woman, hesitant to touch her and worried about being disrespectful. The thought of herself encouraging you, no longer being unsure and passive about things, sent a thrill through Wanda that she was certain she’d never felt before.

All this she associated only with you, and as she felt herself begin to tighten around her fingers, Wanda’s mind was full of you, shamelessly, and her heart pounded against her ribcage.

She came, crying out partially-muffled with half her face buried in her pillow, her wrist sore and her fingers numb to the repetitive speed at which she fingered herself.

When she fell back down from her height, her previously-arched back met the damp sheets beneath her and she felt momentarily anaesthetised as she caught her breath.

She groaned at how fatigued she felt, not having had such a tiring orgasm in a while, much less with just her fingers.

While she was washing her hands, she thought of you, wondered if you’d ever touched yourself to the thought of her, and soon squarely came to the decision that she would pursue you.

She’d made quite a mess of herself, and decided to also change her underwear before heading to bed.

The next few days before the weekend approached, Wanda felt increasingly encouraged every time she interacted with you, especially after having kissed you on the cheek that night. She still felt that she’d gone a little too far, but you still seemed to really like her.

She realised that she didn’t know as much about you as she’d like, and became increasingly enthusiastic about thst weekend when she’d be able to spend more time with you.

On Friday, you and Wanda made plans for the weekend, and it was agreed that she would drive the both of you to the festival then back home to repay you for a few nights ago.

Dressed in a sundress that reached below her knees and deciding to go with her hair down, Wanda nervously crossed the strip of grass that divided your two driveways and walked up to your front door.

It was convenient that you were neighbours, but the space between the two of you left very little time for Wanda to soothe her own anxiety as she prepared for a day out together.

You opened the front door and stepped through as if not trying to waste a moment to head out.

“Hi,” you said with a smile as you stepped onto the porch before turning to lock the front door.

“Hi,” she answered and returned the polite smile when you turned back around, slightly nervous with her hands held in front of her body, holding her purse.

Wanda was suddenly overcome at your momentary undivided attention, feeling that if you scrutinised her just enough, you’d be able to read on her face what she had done to the thought of you that first night it happened, and nearly every night since.

It was the first time she was seeing you since then beyond some short conversations in the driveway, and some paranoid part of her thought you secretly knew all she’d been doing.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you with your hair down,” you noted as we drove to the town square where the festival was taking place. “Did you curl it a little?”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious now that you’d noticed, Wanda took one hand off the wheel and played with the ends of her hair. “Um,” she hesitated. “I did — a little.”

“No, I mean, it’s really pretty, Ms Maximoff,” you quickly said in case she got the wrong idea.

Feeling that perhaps you might’ve been teasing, for whatever reason, Wanda looked over at you momentarily and found you looking over at her. You met her eyes with a small encouraging smile and Wanda looked back onto the road.

“Thank you,” she replied, a smile of her own slowly growing. “I don’t usually do anything with it because I’m either working or at home, and don’t often dress up for anything.” She kept her hair short for functionality reasons, partly, and also because she’d cut it after her divorce just to try something new and found some comfort in keeping the same hairstyle.

Once or twice, she tried to grow it out again, but it just seemed impractical for how often she kept her hair up or had it pushed back with a headband during work, and even at home.

It made her feel rather flattered that you paid mind to something like her hair, since for the most part Wanda saw herself as blending in with the rest of Westview’s docile and placid background, which was to say that she didn’t think there wasn’t anything particularly interesting about herself.

To have a fresh pair of eyes focus on her so much made sparks flutter about in her body.

Her polite smile wavered slightly as more perverse thoughts overcame her. She wondered what lay beyond your still gaze that was both polite as your eyes crinkled at the sides and slightly girlish as your face seemed to glow when you smiled.

Surely, no one suspected that she’d done all that she had to the thought of you — how wet the thought of you made her, the amount of times she moaned your name with her back arched or with her body sprawled across the cool sheets of her bed.

But she had done them all.

Could the same be said for you, beyond an externality that no one else would suspect such things about?

Wanda felt a wave of shame course through her — what was she doing, assuming such things about a college student, and projecting her own desires onto you?

But even that thrum of shame made her ache and she pressed her thighs together in her seat; she should’ve felt humiliated and ashamed for the thoughts she was having, but instead, she felt… thrilled, and in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.

Upon arriving at the festival, and finding a good parking spot in a closer area designated for employees due to Wanda owning the shop that had provided so many of the booths with their bouquets and flower arrangements, the two of you decided on getting lunch first.

Truthfully, Wanda had been so anxious about the upcoming day out with you that her nerves had been far too frenzied to allow her to stomach any food, or to feel any hunger to begin with. It was only until she passed a booth of fresh buttered corn that she’d realised she hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and that she was finally hungry.

Deciding on some deli sandwiches, you and Wanda took your food and drinks to a seating area beneath an oak tree at one of the parks.

For a Spring day, it was particularly warm — likely because there was hardly any breeze at all.

For the weather, Wanda was glad she was wearing a dress, and maybe she was just making it all up, but she could swear she’d seen your eyes running over her exposed legs, and even peeking down her dress.

Maybe you were just curious about what she was wearing, but still, Wanda couldn’t control the way she felt her heart thump at the prospect that you were checking her out.

The eyes of men had only ever made her feel preyed on, and whether she was anything less than mildly annoyed depended on whether she had enough patience to tolerate any of it.

Sometimes she thought it was strange for her to feel so abhorrent towards men when she’d been able to marry Vision. She hadn’t felt this impatient and bored around him, and not even when they’d first met.

She certainly wouldn’t call it abhorrent, but with how often women her age spoke about fantasies or fooling around with younger men or their handsome coworkers — even Agatha had a tendency to do this — it wasn’t uncommon for some to question her interest in remarrying or at the very least, finding a new partner.

All this she told you as you ate together, aside from how the train of thought started with her realising how aroused she felt at the thought that you were checking her out. She was interested in sharing much more about herself and learning that much more about you.

“Maybe you haven’t met the right guy yet,” you suggested helpfully. “A lot of people say the right one comes along when you’re not really looking.”

Seriously, though, for whatever reason, the idea of going through the motions of meeting a new man was a process Wanda felt herself dreading whenever she thought about it. She could imagine nothing worse than inviting a man into her home and introducing him to her children, him meeting her friends, being touched by a man, waking up next to one.

“I don’t think I’m looking for any guy right now,” Wanda replied, pushing a tomato that had partially slipped from her sandwich back in between the bread. She looked up and found you were looking at her, perhaps trying to interpret what she was saying.

While she had your rapt attention, she couldn’t help but suddenly ask, “Where did you meet your boyfriend?”

The question made you blush a little but you also laughed, as if what she was asking could be interpreted as irony.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you answered, replying politely for it had been a serious question albeit with the intention to probe into your love life.

Wanda tried not to show any expression at your answer, and instead tapped the tip of her shoe against the grass beneath her seat idly as if to pace herself. The thought that you might have a boyfriend was one of the ideas that Wanda let float around in her head to rein her mind back to chastity when it wandered off, and she felt herself take in a small breath when you said you didn’t have one.

“I presume it would be far too much to balance now that you’ve moved away and are now doing work in a new town,” Wanda said then finished the last bite of her sandwich.

You made a noise like agreement, but also as if you had more to say on the topic, and when Wanda looked at you, you seemed to be gauging whether to say more. You bit your tongue after taking too long to choose between asking if she herself was seeing anyone or saying that you weren’t interested in men at all.

‘I suppose that’s true,’ is all you ended up saying.

After lunch, you and Wanda decided to walk through the corn maze attraction because the both of you were interested in talking much more and moving your bodies without being distracted by the booths and festival games.

It was quite fun to go through the maze with you. It was really rare that Wanda got time to do fun things like this with someone other than the twins — not that she didn’t enjoy spending that time with them, but she herself felt a little more like a child spending this kind of time with you, which wasn’t a liberty she very often had the chance to experience.

A maze was the perfect thing to do with you, Wanda thought, for even taking the wrong turn meant spending more time with you as you walked back to the fork to try a different path, and neither of you were in a rush to finish, so it was more like a fun walk.

You also said that though the research position was interesting so far, it was a routine that didn’t allow for much enjoyment unless you went out of your way to do something new.

Wanda sympathised, saying that much of her new milestones in life had come about that way — marriage, having children, and starting her business with Agatha. After saying it, she realised how depressing it sounded and even felt a little embarrassed talking about such things with you. You were young after all, and here she was rambling about how all of her life was a comfortable endless routine as if she were Sisyphus.

“You must think I’m rather boring,” Wanda said, looking down at the mess of hay, flattened onto the grass from all the people who’d trekked through the maze. Her tone sounded almost apologetic to her ears though she didn’t think she was trying to apologise for anything in particular.

“What?” you said, shocked. “What do you mean? No, I don’t.”

She laughed a little at your shock, but couldn’t help but feel that your response was a little naive. Once you grew up some more and experienced more of the world and met far more interesting people, Wanda was sure she’d only be a memory you’d look back on with some kind of pity, thinking, ‘What a sweet woman she was — such a shame she lived in such a dull town. After all, I could only stand living there for so long until my research period was over.’

“Well, I’m always doing all the same things,” Wanda explained. “I’ll probably be doing it for much longer too until the twins grow up and go off to college. I love the shop but I think I’d rather move elsewhere once they don’t need me in town.”

There was silence and Wanda looked over to you as you both turned a corner, and you looked to be a little confused, or at least thinking.

“But,” you started, “how does that have anything to do with you being boring?”

“How does that not mean I’m boring?” Wanda replied though acutely aware of how strange she was sounding, arguing for self-deprecation. “I just mean there’s nothing particularly interesting that I do.”

Then she added, perhaps rambling out of a place of deep belief, “It’s different from you — you’re still young and pursuing your passions.”

The images of you and Dottie walking around the few times that Wanda had seen the two of you came to mind again. Even if there was a chance that you would be interested in women, and women that were older than you, Dottie seemed to be a better match for you. She was more talkative and though she was an elementary school teacher, she was still working in some form of schooling, which might interest you far more than flowers and single-motherhood, and she was younger than Wanda and, from the looks of it, seemed to have more free time to spend with you than she did. Plus, she hadn’t yet been married and didn’t have any children.

Wanda could’ve been way over her head in two respects, and suddenly she felt a little foolish for how she’d been thinking of you — all this build-up in her mind when she didn’t suit you at all to begin with.

“But I think you’re interesting,” you reasoned. “I don’t think I’ve ever really put a lot of thought into what you do work-wise. Or your daily schedule.”

Then after a moment, when Wanda didn’t respond immediately, you added hesitantly, “But is that… something you’d expect people to consider? Or is that something you consider, usually?”

Wanda felt a kind of whiplash from the jelly you’d turned her legs into and the shame she then immediately felt for how shallow she must’ve seemed to you. “N-No,” she stuttered, speaking right away to not seem idiotic and just hoping to find the actual words she wanted to say while she was rambling nonsensically.

Truthfully, you didn’t think Wanda was being shallow at all, or that she was being overly concerned with hers and other people’s professions. You were also aware of the age difference between you and her, and how preferences and paths of life differed between ages; you were embarrassed at first, thinking that maybe you sounded far too naive, like a child with no grasp of real life or what really mattered to someone busy and with their own lives like she had.

Often, you thought you were way over your head, crushing on and fantasising about an older woman with her own business and family, with her own priorities who was now settled down and likely too busy to think about any romantic partner.

Much less with a college girl.

And wasn’t Wanda’s ex-husband a lawyer?

College girls weren’t her type.

“No,” she started again, “I just thought… We’re different in that respect, so I thought it might have maybe… bored you.”

If Wanda hadn’t also been looking down at the ground, listening to the muffled sounds of hay and grass beneath her shoes, she would’ve looked up and been able to see that you looked slightly flustered, for you felt that you were in a position of being confessed to.

It didn’t go over your head how Wanda seemed rather concerned about how you viewed her, and worried that you might think that she was boring. The very idea, whatever its context was, that she thought so often about you and your perspective of her made your knees feel a little mushy.

“But… You think I’m interesting?” Wanda then asked, raising her head and looking at you.

You had been so adamant to prove her wrong that you’d sort of just blurted it out. You thought you’d gone a little too far, but you looked over to Wanda and met her eyes.

It could’ve been the way the sun peeked from above the hay maze and cast its light upon Wanda’s face, but her eyes seemed particularly lit up, her expression looking even a bit hopeful as she asked you for confirmation.

“Um, yes, I do,” you confirmed with a smile. “I think you’re really nice and interesting and sometimes I see you out in the driveway with your twins and you seem like such a sweet family, and I’ve been curious about you since you said you owned a floral shop and brought me flowers.”

Well, now you were rambling.

Then you said something really stupid.

“Also, um… I think you’re a really pretty woman. I mean, ‘gorgeous’ is a better word. I hardly ever hear ‘pretty woman’ as a compliment, though I meant it to be true. It just sounds odd as a word combination.”

Wanda felt cheeks heating up and she was grateful that the two of you had finally found the end of the maze, for she felt like she needed to take a breath. But she couldn’t not respond to something like that right away. She swallowed and reached for your forearm and brushed her fingers against your skin to reassure you when you looked away, then dropped her hand.

She knew she should be saying something in response, especially now that she’d gotten your attention back by touching your arm, but she couldn’t come up with any words, just staring into your eyes with lips slightly parted but completely silent.

“Can we play one of the games?” you then offered, and Wanda blinked out of her stupor, remembering where the two of you were.

“A game?” she asked, still slightly disoriented.

You continued walking away from the maze exit and headed towards the festival, Wanda following beside you.

“Maybe I can win you a stuffed toy,” you suggested, looking around at the game booths.

Wanda smiled at the glint of determination in your eyes and stepped closer to you. “Maybe I’ll win you a toy first,” she challenged lightheartedly, looking for any excuse to interact with you more.

The rest of the time you moved between different games, and you and Wanda didn’t talk so much about things other than the games you were playing and some lighthearted memories that came up as you played.

Both of you were enjoying your time, but Wanda particularly, who’d never really done anything during such town events aside from help organise and sometimes take the twins out for them.

Her cheeks were sore from smiling and laughing by the time you were the one to win a prize first.

You handed her a stuffed blue jellyfish, with thin curly tentacles and a soft round body, spotted with white and pale blue.

“It’s so cute,” Wanda said with a tiny smile, squishing the soft body of the jellyfish gently and running her eyes over it in detail as the two of you walked to her car.

She insisted, “I was really close to getting you the giraffe… It was luck that you won first — not skill.”

“Maybe I can win you the ability not to be a sore loser next time,” you poked.

Then as she raised her head, seeing her car come into closer view, it dawned on her that she’d be dropping you off at home and your time together would be over, but she wasn’t quite ready to end the day.

She stopped at the driver’s side and spoke to you over the roof of the car, “Do you want to take a look inside the shop? Maybe I can help you put together a bouquet, or any kind of decorative piece for your place.”

She added, to ensure she didn’t sound pushy, “Only if you want to and if you have time. I’m sure you had other things planned for the day.”

You beamed at the suggestion and nodded with a smile. “I’d love to see the shop,” you said enthusiastically.

“I’m excited to see more of where you are and what you get up to for so much of your day,” you confessed, your hands folded in between your thighs. “I remember when I visited, and it was gorgeous at the front of the store.”

Wanda thought it was so sweet how you thought her little shop was so fantastical. “It’s a bit more of a mess in the back and less presentation-worthy, but I’m also looking forward to showing you around,” she replied, looking over to you and feeling flustered at how genuinely happy you were.

The feeling that you were truly eager to spend more time with her made Wanda all but melt in her seat.

It was beginning to darken, a soft purple-pink tint coming over the sky as the sun began to set. It was still a little light outside, and the pink hue of the sun cast in a nice way against your skin.

Wanda was feeling nice thinking about the fact that you’d been out together for a while now, and that you’d be out for longer still.

“I don’t do this for just any old neighbour, you know,” Wanda teased, looking at you from the corner of her eye as she unlocked the front door.

“Just a few?” you joked back.

Without hesitation, Wanda replied and looked over at you with a little grin, “Just you.”

She didn’t seem to think very much of what she said, though it struck you as rather flirtatious and made you feel like a special figure in her life, since she walked ahead right after saying it, leaving you to follow behind after breaking from your momentary stupor.

It felt so peaceful to be at the shop in the evening with you, telling you about things like how to store freshly cut flowers and how she kept them preserved upon shipments and how they did deliveries.

Wanda had indeed been interested in flowers and plants and owning a floral shop when she first opened it with Agatha, but much of the passion had turned into businesslike concern, and oftentimes Wanda didn’t have much time to take a step back and enjoy what she was doing.

But your fresh pair of eyes and genuine curiosity, asking her questions like how she knew she wanted to open a shop and how long she’d known Agatha for, made Wanda see everything like she had when she first opened the shop, and your curiosity and interest reminded her closely of the kind of passion she’d gotten distracted from once she got used to Westview’s repetition.

Wanda kept viewing herself from the shoes of Agatha if she had also been in the shop somewhere, watching as she giggled at your playful jokes and blushed at your undivided attention, which didn’t necessarily have to be interpreted as flirtatious for Wanda to feel flustered by.

Sometimes all you had to do was look at her while Wanda wasn’t looking so when she turned to look at you, your eyes were on her rather than on whatever she was trying to show you.

She kept thinking of Agatha especially because Wanda wondered whether she was making all of it up, and if all of it truly was platonic, and she wondered what her closest friend would say about all of this.

But the more Wanda felt herself stuttering around you or making some excuse to stand close to you or brush against you, she could no longer trust even her interpretations of what a third-party might say about things.

But the most delusional of it all, Wanda thought, was that she kept thinking of the image of you with Dottie walking down the shopping district during the times where Wanda was too busy to spend time with you and talk with you as much as she wanted.

She kept recalling the feeling of how tired she’d been coming out of work, the sun just about to start setting, and looking forward to getting home after picking up the twins. She had been at a stoplight thinking of what to make for dinner when you passed in front her along the crosswalk, Dottie at your side as you spoke with each other.

She was always wearing something pretty, her taste in clothing professional and delicate as an elementary school teacher, her blonde hair always curled or put up.

From what she’d heard from the few times she attended the town meetings — not that Dottie was so infamous but rather because she was friends with some of the mothers who attended — Dottie was the daughter of old-money parents who owned acres of rural farmland a few hours away from New Jersey.

Dottie was everything Wanda wasn’t.

Were you doing things like this with her too?

Were you only being polite?

While the two of you were putting together a little vase of different coloured roses together for your living room, Wanda quietly spoke up. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” she started quietly, kind of hoping you might suddenly change the topic, leaving the question forgotten.

But instead you looked up from trimming a stem of a white rose, your curiosity piqued as you anticipated her question.

Wanda felt your eyes on her and she kept her hands busy carefully removing the thorns of the roses as she continued. “Not to sound… strange…” she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady and unsuspecting. “But a few weeks ago I saw you with Dottie, and I was just curious about how you knew her.”

She took a risk and looked up from the flower she was holding.

“She was Tommy and Billy’s teacher once, and they still go to that elementary school, so I sometimes see her around when I drop them off and pick them up,” she added, to sound like she was asking for a practical reason.

“Oh,” you said, sounding a little surprised to hear her name brought up. “She’s a friend of the professor I’m doing research with. I… can’t really remember how they know each other. I think it might be through Dottie’s parents.”

A wave of cool relief washed over Wanda and she looked back down to the roses and started dethorning the other one to keep her face down in case she accidentally looked a bit elated.

“I see,” she answered as nonchalantly as she could, though she could hear a waver of relief evident in the way she breathed out. “It’s a small town.” But Wanda still couldn’t help but press on a little, feeling not yet fully satisfied by your answer.

“But… You don’t see her… often, do you?” she asked, looking up again just to see your expression, and hoping you didn’t seem suspicious about why she was asking.

You shook your head, just focused on trimming the stems the right length and carefully placing them in a pleasing way amongst each other in the vase Wanda provided. “No, not often at all,” you said. “Usually I see her when we’re meeting up together to have coffee with my professor.”

“So it’s a professional relationship?”

To that, you finally looked up from the flowers in your hands and looked over at Wanda, who immediately internally cursed herself for not watching her mouth; she’d gone a little too far, just asking you whatever came to mind.

“I don’t even know if it would be considered professional, per se,” you answered, your hands lowering a little as you focused on giving an answer. “She doesn’t have anything to do with my research. I think it’s just circumstantial — that’s a good way to describe it.”

Wanda swallowed and looked back down to the roses, immediately ready to drop the subject and move onto something else after realising just how overly curious she’d been sounding.

Suddenly you were feeling a little awkward that Wanda had been talking about professional relationships and networking and all. All of that felt like a different world, and there was still a lot that Wanda considered in life that you didn’t.

You didn’t even think you had professional relationships, really, aside from your professor.

It felt like every time she brought up something you didn’t understand, the difference in age between the two of you became all the more evident, and you felt yourself becoming more and more childish and inexperienced in her eyes.

“Um, by the way… Ms Maximoff, I wanted to say that I felt kind of nervous to ask you to go out this weekend,” you confessed, and from the corner of your eye you saw Wanda raise her head and look at you. “I thought it might’ve been… I don’t know, like, a little stupid, even.”

“What?” she asked, surprised. She set her rose down and turned her body a little to look at you. The tone of her voice made you raise your head and meet her eyes. “Stupid? Why?”

You weren’t exactly sure what you had hoped to accomplish by confessing that, but you almost just felt like apologising somewhat for doing something stupid or childish before Wanda could realise it for herself.

Maybe you’d seem a little less naive if you just admitted to it right away, because honestly, you really did think you had been sounding a little stupid to ask her out for the festival, and often wondered if she only ever said yes to you out of pity because of how young you were.

Sometimes when she apologised for seeming standoffish or distant, you couldn’t help but feel that she was just trying to tend to a child’s tantrum.

But her response wasn’t as you initially thought it would be, and she seemed truly shocked at your confession, so you felt a little flustered and you now felt that you had been overdramatic.

“I-I just mean… Well…”

As you stuttered for a response, you realised you had no excuse to make, and honestly, Wanda had only ever been kind to you, so you had no reason to try and lie. So you thought to tell the truth.

“It sometimes feels like I don’t really have a grasp on your life, and like you may just be too busy or disinterested to do stuff like go out to a festival to get driven to work or…”

You trailed off to find the rest of your words, and you saw Wanda continuing to watch your face from the corner of your eye. One of her arms was resting on the counter beside her, her hands fidgeting with each other’s fingertips in front of her stomach.

“I think maybe I didn’t really consider that you might feel more comfortable not knowing your neighbours so much, and that even though it might be true you don’t mind when I do you favours or ask to do things in our freetime, I know that you’re also busy and preoccupied with things and… Just more comfortable with how things had been.”

Well… Dottie certainly didn’t get any of this kind of confession from you.

Wanda took a tiny step forward. She knew what you were trying to get at; there was an age difference between the two of you and sometimes the difference casted doubt on whether you were both thinking the same thing, always wondering how you were perceived by the other.

“I know how you feel,” she reassured, reaching out to brush her hand against your arm against the better half of her mind telling herself it was a bad idea to move closer to you. She fidgeted with her fingers again and took a little breath, wanting to be open and honest like you just had been.

She confessed, “I think that sometimes I might be projecting myself onto you.”

The words shocked you and you looked up and met her eyes, surprised to see her looking a little nervous as she spoke. You didn’t think anything about your relationship with Wanda had the power to make her nervous; she always just seemed like she had everything so well-structured.

She owned a business with a close friend and was a single mother of two young boys and lived in a nice house. She was beautiful and kind, and the idea that she might be nervous in any sense while interacting with you surprised you greatly.

“Sometimes I can’t exactly tell if I’m… understanding things correctly…” she added, swallowing hard. The momentary silence between responses thrummed against her eardrums, and the light from the ceiling became strangely brighter and looked as light often did when she was down with a terrible flu.

The implication was heavy, and she was worried about how you would take it. She tried to immediately relax herself by thinking that you’d only pick up on what she was implying if you yourself had been thinking similar things, but there was always a chance that you’d understand what she was saying and not feel the same way.

She could hardly bear the thought of confessing unreciprocated, for she foresaw absolutely no way to come back from that kind of rejection… She would look like such a fool, and she wouldn’t know how to handle the kinds of things she did and felt because of you.

The things she felt for you had been different from anything before, and if you rejected her, there was no way for her to deal with this new kind of awakening, and she was certain there’d be no other chance to be attracted to someone in the way she was with you.

“I think maybe I’m in over my head, Ms Maximoff…” you said quietly.

Suddenly Wanda was overcome with the possibility of what you were also implying, and the very possibility that you meant what she thought was overcoming the fear of being rejected or being wrong.

All she’d been doing was fantasising and mulling over possibilities and uncertainties about how she was feeling and how you might be feeling, and now the possibility that you might feel the same way, that she wasn’t just making it all up the whole time, seemed more real and tangible than it ever had been before.

She knew she was thinking irrationally.

There were better ways to do this.

But she could only really think of doing one thing.

She placed her hand atop the counter at the midway point between the both of you and she stepped forward, tipping her head to the side ever so slightly as she moved closer. Her breath felt warm against her own lips as her exhales reached your upper lip, and your eyes looked lidded and your face slightly flushed before she closed her eyes and met her soft lips with yours.

You immediately put your rose down and placed your hand on Wanda’s lower back, pulling her closer, and Wanda felt like she could collapse into your body at the gesture.

You really did want her. She hadn’t been making it up.

Though she’d been married before, this felt like the first time anyone truly reciprocated her feelings. Maybe that was because what feelings she had for Vision weren’t anything like the ones she had for you.

She was thirty-two and feeling this way for the first time; she felt like she’d really been missing out.

It didn’t take very long for the slow and hesitant kiss to grow heated, perhaps due to its confirmation of mutual attraction and interest. Your arm wrapped around Wanda’s waist and your other hand moved up the curve of her spine, up to where her sundress exposed her upper back, your fingers entangling themselves in her hair as they moved up her neck.

Wanda sighed into your mouth, listening to the way it merged with your tiny moans and exhales. She had her own arm wrapped around your waist too, but with her other hand caressing your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin, encouraging you.

She felt her lower back press against the edge of the counter and she realised you were pressing your body flush against hers.

Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, her body feeling warm all over.

In her sundress with her arms and upper back and chest exposed, every brush you had against her skin sent shockwaves up her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake as a familiar ache began to form deep in Wanda’s lower stomach, causing her to roll her hips forward, knocking them gently against your own.

Maybe when her mind was less fogged up and she could think of a world past the soft caresses of your hands and your delicate moans, she would think about how right Agatha was about being with women.

You were so delicate and gentle, and not only because she thought that that was just the kind of person you were, but also because of the smooth slope of your shoulders and how your arms slotted perfectly beneath hers. Your face was smooth and free of stubble and your lips were so soft, your sweet moans were enough to make Wanda weak in the knees, and you smelled so nice.

And it did really feel like you were touching her as if she were an extension of yourself.

“Ms Maximoff…” you sighed, sounding desperate as your hand fell away from cradling the back of her head and sending a wave of throbbing arousal down between Wanda’s thighs. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she pulled you closer, grasping at the hem of your shirt as her fingers tightened around the fabric, feeling just as desperate.

Then suddenly you yelped and pulled away from her lips, your body unwrapping from Wanda’s. Wanda’s eyes darted across your face and she worried for a moment that she accidentally bit your lip.

“Y/N, a-are you okay? Did I hurt you?” she asked, panicked as she looked at you. Then she noticed that you had brought your hand up, surveying it under the light of the ceiling. “What happened?”

“U-Um, I accidentally put my finger down on a thorn,” you said, looking up at her sheepishly and showing her the curved thorn deep in your index finger.

Wanda stepped close again and wrapped her fingers around your wrist to get a better look at it. “Oh, dear… That’s quite deep…” she said, her voice low as she turned your finger around in the light to get a better look at it.

“Don’t worry — this happens quite often,” she reassured, looking over at you with a smile. The eye contact made you blush and you couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to her lips that now looked slightly swollen with how frantic your kiss had been.

The same flushed expression came over Wanda’s face but she looked back down to your finger and carefully laid it against her hand. “Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll take it out, but I want to make sure it doesn’t break off in your finger.”

Inching your hand closer to her eyes and into the light, her other hand came up and carefully pulled out the thorn, pulling it in the direction of its curve. A tiny bead of blood came from where it had pierced your skin.

“Just a moment. Keep your finger upright,” she said, letting go of your wrist slowly so as to not move it from its place midair. She then turned and bent over a little to rummage under the counter.

You couldn’t help the way your chest fluttered at the sight of her so focused on taking care of you.

She straightened again, now holding a bandaid, and laid the back of your hand against her fingers. With slightly furrowed eyebrows, she unwrapped the bandage and carefully secured it around your finger.

“There we go…” she said softly. “Not too tight?”

Heat rose to your cheeks when she looked back up to you again and you looked away with a shy smile and shook your head. “No, it’s just perfect.”

“Good.”

Then she threw the garbage out and brushed the thorns off of the countertop and into a nearby garbage can she lifted to the edge of the counter. She set it back down on the ground then turned back over to you nervously, brushing down the front of her dress.

She bit her bottom lip awkwardly, then quietly reasoned, “Maybe it was time we headed back home, anyway.”

You looked up from the floor and met her eyes with a little nod and a polite smile.

But neither of you moved from your spots, and Wanda felt a familiar impatience and gnawing urge pulsing inside her again.

Wanda was right in her observations of you — you were rather shy, and a submissive lover. You were nervous and hesitant, and after kissing you, she was sure you’d been with women before. That excited her, and she heard her own soft trembling exhales through her parted lips as she observed the hesitant look in your eyes, anticipating her next move.

You were still nervous, Wanda could tell.

So young and hesitant and innocent and polite…

All she felt then and there was that she needed your hands on her, and Wanda stepped forward again, kissing you with immediate heated passion as her hands ran up to the sides of your face, caressing you gently.

Your hands came to her hips and you attempted to wrap your arms around her waist until Wanda stumbled forwards, pushing you into the back room where it was more spacious.

“Mmm, Y/N…” she sighed into your open mouth, pushing your lower back against one of the counters in the back room.

Your hands were on her hips, slowly rounding to her lower back, but it was still not enough. She took hold of your wrist and brought your hand to her breast, and you squeezed as if partial to the feeling of how soft her breast was in your hand, mindful of the way her body arched into yours, her body pressed against your hips.

She felt herself throbbing when your other hand found its way beneath her dress, groping her ass and even tucking two fingers past her underwear to feel the soft, pliable flesh beneath the fabric.

“Ms Maximoff, is this okay?” you asked, your words trembling for how you spoke them between heated kisses. The hesitant tone spoken with your soft voice juxtaposed the way you groped her ass, and Wanda felt like she was already practically nearing orgasm.

“That’s just fine, sweetheart,” she replied, her fingers snaking down your jawline to hold your head in place as she tipped her head to the side and deepened the kiss.

Your fingernails pressed into her ass and she gasped, her body tensing momentarily.

Your tongues briefly brushed against each other and at the sensation, Wanda couldn’t get enough. She ran the tip of her tongue over your teeth then delved past your lips.

Warm exhales and breathy sighs echoed between your open mouths, meshed together in the exchange of saliva as your thumb tugged down the neckline of Wanda’s dress along with her bra so you could thumb at her hardened nipple, your other hand taking another handful of her ass.

Wanda had never felt more sexually desired, your hands on her body making her feel that you were thoroughly exploring her out of deep interest and pulsing arousal.

It was no obligation or passive act.

It was desire and craving, and you wanted her.

Then she felt the urge to have her mouth on your cunt, to feel you pulsating around her tongue, to feel your warm, slick folds against her lips. She wanted to taste how wet she made you and how badly you wanted her, to swallow your cum and have your flavour spread across her tongue.

She’d never pleasured another woman before, but all she felt was hunger, so much of it that it was painful, and that desire surpassed any need for prior knowledge.

In a few moments your thighs were wrapped securely around her head, Wanda on her knees beneath you as she noisily ate you out. The intermingled noises of her moans and the sound of your soaking pussy made your heart race.

She was far messier and dominating than you’d initially imagined, and you could hardly catch your breath. Each moment you thought you’d caught up, she’d want more, grabbing at you, delving her tongue into your opening or rubbing her flattened tongue against your aching clit.

She gripped at your hips, pulling you down onto her face so desperately you worried you might hurt her.

She opened her eyes and you saw her meet your gaze behind the mess of her dirty blonde hair, and you reached down and carefully brushed strands of her hair away from her forehead, revealing green eyes darkened by carnal desire.

The way she stared at you sent chills up your spine, causing you to roll your hips forward and bump your clit against the tip of her nose. She looked wildly predatorial, her relentless tongue and hot breath paired with a melody of deep groans and light girlish moans almost animalistic.

Wanda saw your hand reach down, fingers twitching in hesitation, before she interlaced her fingers with yours and brought your hand to the back of her head. She felt very literally… hungry — she craved you.

You nudged her mouth against your cunt and Wanda mewled in pleasure, feeling caressed as if she were being pet. Her hair was smooth, and feeling it now, you found she truly had thick hair and it wasn’t just the way she styled it in the mornings.

There were a lot of things you were newly finding about Wanda, new ways of viewing and understanding her that would make her different from how you had understood her before.

You’d never be able to see her without knowing how she looked on her knees, eating your pussy in her shop in the early evening, never being able to unfeel how her hands were firm and confident as they rubbed your thighs and squeezed your hips. But her fingers were delicate and careful, likely from her profession handling flowers.

You knew her touch.

Wanda knew exactly when you came — she felt it first before she heard it with how your thighs were wrapped around her ears. She could feel you contract and begin to pulse against her tongue, felt the way your hips chased her mouth and how your hands grasped at her desperately. She knew you had reached your peak because it reminded her so much of herself, and she helped you through your orgasm and through its aftershocks as she had for herself during the times she had come to the thought of you.

She carefully licked around your cunt and your inner thighs, cleaning you up as she blindly felt for your pants and underwear before sliding it back up your thighs while you caught your breath above.

When she buttoned your pants you helped her stand up and you adjusted her dress for her. Wanda leaned flush against your body with a little smile, watching your face as you straightened her dress, feeling your gentle hands rub against her.

Then you met her eyes and wrapped your arms around her waist, returning a smile.

She leaned forward and kissed you chastly, just feeling your soft, warm lips against her own, one of your hands moving up her back and rubbing softly.

“Was I good…?” Wanda asked a little nervously as she pulled away and looked at you. The tip of her nose brushed against yours lightly.

You nodded.

“It felt amazing…” you answered honestly, your fingers making shapes against her lower back through her dress. “I think, also, that I’m really attracted to you.”

Wanda laughed, feeling her cheeks heat up, and she buried her face in your neck.

After a moment, she added shyly, “That was my first time.”

Shocked, you turned your head a little to look at her but Wanda kept her face hidden in the crook of your neck and in the curtain of your soft hair.

“I couldn’t tell,” you told her.

“Are you being sarcastic…?” Wanda asked, looking down to play with the ends of your hair. “I can’t see your face.”

“I’m not being sarcastic.”

Wanda blushed, uttering a small ‘Thank you’ before she raised her head, fidgeting with your shirt a little.

“Shall I drive you back home now…?” she asked, looking up hesitantly.

You swallowed, feeling an ache of disappointment and longing at the thought of ending the night without getting to talk with Wanda more or even make her feel good. But if that had been her first time, she’d already done quite a bit.

You didn’t want to push her further or pressure her, so you nodded once silently in spite of how badly you wanted to be able to touch her too.

During the drive back, Wanda felt a dull ache behind her exhilaration, forcing her to admit that she was still not entirely satisfied. She’d underestimated the significance behind how much she fantasised about you, and how much desire truly went behind how strongly and how often she thought of you.

She nervously tapped against the steering wheel with her index finger and she bit down on her bottom lip.

“Was that…” She swallowed and carefully picked out the right words as she saw you turn to look at her from the corner of her eye. “Were you looking for… just a one-time thing…?”

Wanda couldn’t stop herself from turning and looking at your expression when there was perhaps a millisecond’s worth of silence after her question.

You felt a weight drop in your stomach and your fingers pressed against the flower vase sitting in your lap.

How would you come off if Wanda had been looking for something casual and you told her you weren’t? You would look childish and naive and disrespectful of her busy life.

You considered lying or perhaps answering nonchalantly, but tonight was the first time she’d ever gone down on another woman, and you felt you owed her honesty.

And… after all, it was still Wanda. She wasn’t someone to be scared of.

As Wanda turned into the neighbourhood, you answered, “I want to be closer to you than that. I don’t think I would want something like that to be a one-time thing.”

Wanda took in a sharp inhale when her chest tightened and filled with adrenaline, and she squeezed her hands around her steering wheel. She pulled into her driveway and parked the car.

Worried about the silence that would come over the both of you if she turned the car off, Wanda kept the car running as she ran her hands down her thighs as she gathered her confidence to speak again.

She turned to you and felt her heart pounding against her chest, threatening to suffocate her, when you turned to meet her eyes.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked directly.

Wanda’s hands laid in fists atop her lap as she regarded you, her posture straight and her shoulders rising and falling in tiny rhythmic motions as she steadied her breathing. From the dim lighting of her driveway from the light above her garage, you could see her eyebrows very slightly furrowed and her eyes gleaming with a nervous vulnerability, her expression patient and waiting for your answer.

You nodded once.

You stuttered when you tried to speak, then tried a second time, uttering a tiny, “Yes, I’d like that.”

The motions of following behind Wanda as she walked up her porch and unlocked the front door were mechanical and you watched her from behind, wishing desperately to know what was running through her mind.

There was a soft warm light coming from the living room that grew slowly brighter when the front door was closed behind you and your eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting of her house. This was the first time you’d ever been inside.

You looked around at the decor and the evidence of Tommy and Billy’s presence that remained even when they were with their father — their shoes were put away on a rack, some of their schoolwork on the small table by the front door, and their jackets hung on the coat rack.

“Are you thirsty or hungry for anything?” Wanda asked, evidently a little nervous.

You saw her take a breath and hold it when you set the vase down on the table where she had placed her keys to hold her hand. “I want to be with you, Ms Maximoff,” you said sincerely.

She swallowed and squeezed your hand and gave a little nod.

“I want to be with you too,” she replied, a little smile coming onto her face when you seemed to respond positively to her answer. She led you upstairs and you walked up beside her for how nervous she still seemed, and so you wanted to be close with her rather than following behind.

Wanda closed the bedroom door behind her and with the bedroom curtains left open enough to have the room illuminated by the evening, none of you turned any other lights on. She turned around to face you once she came to her bed, and her hands nervously came to the waistband of your pants, fidgeting a little.

“Are you nervous…?” you asked her quietly, stepping closer so her hands were caught between your bodies.

She looked up and nodded silently.

Then she said, her voice small, “What if I’m not good at this?”

You ached at her evident insecurity and unfamiliarity around being so vulnerable.

Your hand reached up to brush her hair back and you kissed her temple and murmured, “Not good at what?”

“At… this — making you feel good and being close with you, and connecting with you. I’ve never felt…” Wanda’s breath trembled and she swallowed.

She took a little breath.

“I really like you, Y/N,” she explained, her gaze falling to your shoulder and your body pressed flush against hers. “I want to be good at this…”

“No,” you protested softly and pulled your head back to look at her. “That’s not really how it works, Ms Maximoff…”

She explored your soft gaze, curious about what you would say but also caught up in how kind and patient your eyes were.

“You don’t really know how to do these things,” you reassured softly, “you just feel it.”

Wanda has always known what to do with things, and if she didn’t, there was someone who did know. Her marriage was all about expectation and filling roles as parents and as spouses, and her life, more or less, was about living through a planned schedule, doing things in order to be good at them and doing them right.

Was it okay to mess up?

Was it okay for her to do something just because she wanted to? She’d never been well-acquainted with the feeling of wanting something for herself to begin with.

“Can you call me by my first name?’” Wanda asked.

You nodded and smiled at the humour of her request.

She smiled in return and blushed before stepping back and allowing her hands some room to begin taking your clothes off.

You laid Wanda onto her back once her dress slipped from her shoulders, revealing her smooth skin and the contours and curves of her body.

Wanda felt extraordinarily sensitive to your every touch, unable to take her eyes away from the way your hands moved across her skin; it wasn’t enough to just feel the way your palms glided across her sides, your thumbs pressing into the contours of her obliques as you kissed down to her belly button, then her thighs, her calves, and her ankles when you bent her legs slightly moving back up her body — she had to see it too.

“Can I take your bra off?” you asked, looking up at her.

Wanda nodded and guided your hands to her back where her bra strap was, her back arching from the bed to allow you some space. She felt a surge of nerves course through her stomach when you took her bra off.

It had been so long since she was intimate with anyone, and even longer since she was with someone she felt engaged with, but it was the first time she was with someone she was truly interested in and attracted to.

For the first time, with your eyes running over her naked body, Wanda felt insecure about herself in a way she hadn’t previously; she was much older than you, and she started thinking about the other girls you must’ve been with.

None of them had ever been married or had children, and Wanda suddenly felt a dread come over her, feeling that she and her body were less attractive because of her age and what she’d done that neither you nor your previous sexual partners had.

But in spite of her anxiety, what she worried about wasn’t indicative at all in the way you continued to kiss her and caress her.

Your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, your hand coming to massage her other breast, and Wanda’s head lolled to the side atop her pillow, overcome by the feeling of being ravished and spoiled.

Then you moved up and began kissing her neck, and if you bit her, you did it softly, taking just a little of her skin between your teeth and nipping softly. She laughed breathily when you tugged at her earlobe with your teeth.

She loved the feeling of your weight on her body — a physical, tangible reminder of your presence, symbolic of how she had surpassed the period of fantasy and yearning.

“Get on your back,” Wanda told you, running the tips of her fingers down the curve of your spine.

While you adjusted your position, Wanda sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed and rummaged somewhere you couldn’t see. She sat back up and laid beside you, a translucent purple dildo in her hand.

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks and you imagined Wanda rolling her hips into it, slowly slipping herself down, and moaning as she fucked the faux cock. You even dared to imagine she fantasised about you.

“Can I use this on you?” she asked, holding it up for you to survey the size.

The very sight of Wanda holding a dildo in her hand, asking you for your permission for her to fuck you with it, her green eyes curiously exploring your expression, her naked body pressed against yours so her breasts brushed against your upper arm…

You had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming it all up, napping on the couch of your place before heading out to the festival.

Wanda moved closer and kissed your cheek. “I can be gentle with you,” she reassured. “If that’s what you’re worried about…”

“I’m not worried.”

“Really?” she asked, teasing, lifting her head to meet your eyes. “You haven’t said yes yet.”

You immediately nodded, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Is that a yes?” Wanda pressed, feigning curiosity with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y-Yes,” you practically choked out, stunned at her sudden display of playfulness.

She leaned back to where she had reached down before and came back up with a bottle of lube. Placing the dildo between your hips, Wanda asked for you to lather it on, holding herself up beside you and kissing up your shoulder and neck as you pumped your hand around the faux cock.

“As much as you want,” she purred. “I want to make sure you feel comfortable.”

You shifted your positioning a little so Wanda could have a better range of motion. One of your legs was perched up and your legs were parted, and you were laying back against a pillow for just a little elevation.

“Tell me if it hurts or if I should slow down, okay?” Wanda asked, nudging the tip of her nose against your cheekbone softly. She was taken by the urge to take care of you, to keep her body as close to you as possible, to feel your bare flesh against her own.

She really did think you were so sweet and precious, and the urge to care for you came stronger than it ever had before.

She wanted to make you feel good.

“Is this feeling okay, Y/N?” she asked, her other hand rubbing up and down your upper arm.

Your eyes were shut, allowing you to fully take in the scent of Wanda’s laundry and her hair and her perfume. The soft sounds of her little moans and noises as she made careful efforts to enter and tease you sent chills up your spine and made you throb.

“Th-That feels really good, M–”

You corrected yourself: “Wanda.”

A little flutter resounded in your chest at the feeling of calling her by her first name — it felt so personal.

“That’s good, Y/N,” she cooed softly. “You’ve nearly taken half. It’s a big stretch, huh…?” You hesitated to nod; it was a big stretch, but it wasn’t too much, and you didn’t want Wanda to stop.

“But you’re a big girl, right…?” she asked, and you immediately opened your eyes at her wording and the soft coo of her voice.

“I- Yes, I… I am.”

You watched as Wanda took her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes running down your body as her wrist curled and twisted back and forth, each time slowly pressing further into you. Her forearm muscle flexed with each movement and you could hear her breaths begin to quicken.

“Can I confess something a little embarrassing…?” Wanda spoke after a few moments of intimate silence, and you looked up from her forearm to her face.

When you met her eyes with patient curiosity, she continued. “I’ve pleasured myself to the thought of you many times, but I’ve never used this,” she told you. “I suppose I couldn’t imagine you in its place. It feels far more fitting to hold it.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and your breath hitched.

Wanda’s eyebrows raised and you felt a slightly forceful thrust, causing you to whimper. “Did you like hearing about that? I pulled out just a little and you’ve made quite the mess around it…”

The way her eyes scrutinised you, the focus in her expression, made you feel like she was observing you in great detail, feeling that her interest was sincerely piqued as much as she was aroused.

Then, with one more thrust, you felt the coolness of Wanda’s fingers pressed against your warm folds, and you knew she was entirely in.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” she asked, settling herself more comfortably beside you so she was sitting up, your head lying in the crook of her neck. Her arm was wrapped around your head with her elbow keeping her up, her hand stroking your head softly.

You felt like you were struggling to get words out with the size of Wanda’s cock inside of you, along with the gentle and tantalising way she entered and pulled out. She was practically cradling you against her as she maintained steady motion, and you felt as if you were being babied.

“Th-That feels really good…” you mumbled.

“Oh, I’m so glad, sweetheart…” She began petting the side of your head and you mewled.

You watched through hooded eyes Wanda’s focused expression as she continued her soft thrusts, the positioning of your bodies making the act look almost masturbatory with how your bodies laid together, meshed.

“I had a feeling this would be the pace you preferred, Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice a soft mumble, her voice now sounding raspy with how low she was speaking. “If I’m honest… I thought a lot about what kinds of things you might like… I always enjoyed thinking that you were a careful lover, and shy…”

Even though she spoke at a hushed volume, you could hear her soft laboured breaths from her stern efforts to keep her arm at a steady pace, and often you looked down to see her forearm muscles flex subtly beneath her smooth pale skin.

“I thought about that all the time,” she confessed, a little moan passing her lips as the recollection. “I thought about how… polite and delicate you were, and your sweet smile and how kind you were to me. I thought that must mean you were quite accommodating in the bedroom, but I just wasn’t able to allow my mind to wander that far, thinking about what you might be able to do for me. I just kept thinking about what you’d let me do, and that soft little blush on your cheeks…”

She looked up at you and met your eyes. Hers crinkled at the sides when she looked over your expression, and when she smiled, the faint hints of dimples on either side of her smile made your heart skip about a dozen beats.

“The kind of blush you have right now…” she whispered.

“I wish you could see how you look,” she added, and you could feel her speeding her thrusts up, a new desperation in her efforts as you felt her move closer to you. Her hips knocked against the side of your thigh and her hardened nipples grazed against your upper arm.

Her breathing became laboured, and you felt yourself in a trance just looking into Wanda’s eyes, feeling pressure steadily build between your thighs she quickened her pace.

It was almost a little embarrassing hearing how wet you were, listening to how you stretched open each time Wanda thrusted her cock into you, and how you sounded when she pulled out, your tiny moans and whimpers building, seemingly encouraging Wanda to speed up.

“You look so cute, looking up at me, just waiting on what I’ll do or what I’ll say,” she said. “Do you feel cared for, baby…?”

Slender fingers brushed your hair out of your face.

“Y-Yes, I-”

Wanda interrupted you — not that you would’ve had anything very substantial to say anyways with how you started to speak and stutter without really knowing what you were going to say. “I knew it was wrong, fantasising about someone so young… But I couldn’t help it…”

She moaned softly and you could see her rub her thighs together just below your eye line.

Your eyes were beginning to flutter shut, for you were feeling the pressure in your lower stomach begin to coil, and you felt yourself tightening around the faux cock, suddenly sensitive to every noise and brush of Wanda’s hair against your skin.

Her arm unwrapped from around your head and Wanda suddenly leaned her head down and wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, causing you to moan out at the feeling of her warm tongue flicking over you, her teeth gently nipping at you before switching to the other.

“You’re doing such a good job, honey,” she reassured, trailing her kisses up to your neck and beginning to run her warm tongue up your skin. “So close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, trying to respond with intelligible words but only getting so far as a little whimper of affirmation.

From beyond distracted hooded eyes, your eyes flickered between Wanda’s fafe and her soft breasts, still pressed warm against your upper arm.

“You’ve gotten so wet,” Wanda purred, biting at the corner of your jaw. “My fingers are slipping from around the base; I have to keep readjusting my grip. It doesn’t help that you’re so tight…”

“If I had a cock of my own, baby, I’d have you on your knees, bent over with your face in the pillows…” she mumbled against your ear. “You’d be so tight and warm around me… You don’t know how wet it makes me to think about fucking a young thing like you… Hearing your little sounds and your pleas…”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you reached out to take hold of her hip. “W-Wanda, I’m-”

She moved her other hand down and interlaced your fingers.

“Come for me, Y/N,” she cooed.

Wanda was entirely captivated seeing you come, feeling the resistance around her dildo as your walls squeezed around it, your body arching from the bed while you cried out squeezed her hand. You came on the very bed and sheets she had to the thought of you countless times before, but the way you came was different.

It was more delicate than hers — from what she could recall from her own self-perception — your moans fluttery and broken into tiny whimpers, your body combed over with tiny tremors and involuntary twitches.

"That's a good girl," she whispered against your temple as you came, her other hand squeezing and stroking your shoulder. "Just like that, honey..."

She was careful when she pulled out of you, and couldn’t help but bring the dildo up to her lips and clean some of your mess off of it with her lips and tongue. Then she set it down somewhere on the bed and moved down to be able to wrap her arms around you, bringing your head against her chest.

Her arm that wrapped around the underside of your head stroked the side of your temple while she kissed your forehead, her other arm wrapped around your torso, rubbing your side soothingly.

After a while of Wanda rubbing your hip and your stomach, your upper arm, and anywhere she could reach while kissing your face gently, you caught your breath and cuddled close to her.

“I really do like you, Y/N,” Wanda said after the moments of silence. She pulled away a little to be able to look at your face in its entirety, and she smiled down at you softly. “I think you’re very kind, and very sweet. It’s really been a long time since anyone thought or cared as much about me as you do.”

Then she added, a bit shamefully, “I know it just sounds selfish, but over the last while since you moved here, I’ve been thinking of you quite a bit. And I was always very nervous to pursue anything, or even allow myself to feel anything like this for you.”

You didn’t want to speak up and interrupt her, especially since she seemed a little nervous confessing her feelings.

“Not only was it my first time regarding someone of your age in the way that I had begun to, but I think there were just a lot of things I was used to that I had to try to unlearn, and find confidence in diverging from.”

Then she looked away from your eyes and began fiddling with her fingers. Sensing her nerves, you squeezed her hand softly and rubbed your thumb against the back of her hand. Though she didn’t look back at you, she acknowledged your gesture and squeezed back.

“And there was also my age…” she hesitantly mentioned. “I felt… insecure, and unsure of myself, being how old I am and not knowing what to do. I felt… late to everything I was feeling for the first time, and thought that everything I was feeling was some desperate fantasy.”

Hesitantly, she met your eyes again, and looked relieved when you were already looking at her.

“You have no idea how good and happy it makes me feel that you’re sincerely interested in me…” she told you, a tiny shy smile spreading on her face. “I’ve never felt this way before, even with Vision… and I feel really lucky to be able to be with you like this.”

A realisation suddenly came over you hearing Wanda’s confession — did she really think it was all luck? You had been so shy about everything that you had failed to tell Wanda much of how you felt and how you saw her, and it wasn’t even your first time with a woman.

“I mean… it wasn’t really luck,” you said, fidgeting a little with her fingers, which Wanda thought was really cute. “I did ask to drive you home and visit you and work and… asked to see you this weekend.”

“Oh. That’s right, isn’t it?”

She looked like she had a moment of deep pondering as she looked off to the side. Then she looked down at you again and smiled.

“I guess I just didn’t really allow myself to accept the possibility that you were doing it all because of that,” she admitted bashfully.

You let go of her hand and brushed your fingers against her hip, drawing nervous shapes against her soft skin. “Can I touch you too, Wanda?” you requested.

For a moment, she looked surprised that you would even offer; her lips parted and she blinked, before closing her mouth and nodding slightly.

“What will you do?” she asked, curious and sounding a little insecure in a way that you couldn’t entirely understand.

The two of you shifted positions and Wanda laid on her back, looking up at you with eyes that made your chest ache. She looked vulnerable and almost a little anxious.

Being intimate with women wasn’t the same as being intimate with men — Wanda figured this quickly. It wasn’t the same kind of mutual pleasure, but rather, rooted in a kind of selflessness, a deep and involved desire to please the other without receiving explicit pleasure of one’s own.

Sex with Vision and any of the scarce intimate encounters she’d had since her divorce all seemed rather mechanical — it wasn’t so much about desire and interest as it was about fulfilling a role and doing what you knew you were expected to.

Vision hardly ever went down on Wanda, and she was never quite interested in asking him to nor was she interested in connecting with him in that way.

It wasn’t that she held any bitterness or negative reservations about him that confined their sex to duty or seeing it as an impulse of nature, as in having sex as one would eat when one was hungry, or sleep when one was tired.

It was more so that their marriage was not the kind to be seen as based on passion or desire; that hadn’t been how Wanda had seen him when they first met nor how he had seen her.

The idea that anyone could desire her to begin with, but moreover that one could desire her selflessly, whose justification was solely self-determined desire, made her anxious and uncertain.

It was, paradoxically, a selfish form of selflessness, where Wanda had only ever known duty and expectation.

“What you did for me before,” you told her, now settled between her thighs, on your knees. “Is that okay?”

Wanda nodded, looking at you. She adjusted herself a little, but you settled her by placing your hands on either side of her outer thighs.

You firstly moved up her body, making Wanda think that for a moment you changed your mind about all of what you’d said, but instead you started softly kissing her, laying your body flush against hers as Wanda’s legs parted before squeezing her thighs around your hips.

Her arms came to wrap around your torso. She stretched her fingers out so she could feel more of your skin, feel the way your back arched and curved as you kissed her lips, then her cheeks and then her neck.

“You’re beautiful…” you muttered, making Wanda open her eyes and turn her head a little to look at the way you had your face buried in her neck, your hair sprawled out a mess across her chest.

“Your skin is so smooth, and you’re so warm when you hold me,” you said.

All Wanda could do was whisper a small, “I like holding you, Y/N.”

You slowly descended back down, your palms running down her sides as if to hold the shape of her body and the frame that made it up in your hands, caressing her.

You massaged her breast, making Wanda loll her head to the side and let out a soft moan, her own hand coming to the back of your head and tightening her grip when your lips wrapped around her nipple.

Your tongue was soft and teasing over her hardened bud, and you sucked with a gentle force that wasn’t hesitant, but careful, treating her delicately.

Her hand stroked the back of your hand with her fingers, gently massaging your scalp and readjusting her hand’s position often to keep combing through your hair.

Moving further down, you pressed kisses to her stomach, beneath her breasts, down to her belly button, watching Wanda’s expression intently as you looked up at her.

She looked beautiful with her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted as she sighed and made little noises of pleasure.

You hoped she felt taken care of.

Your fingers began tugging at the waistband of her underwear and you looked up to her, expecting Wanda to feel a little hesitant, but instead she breathed out telling you to take them off, even reaching down and tugging at them.

Wanda’s heart raced when she felt your breath brush briefly against her pussy. A shudder ghosted across her skin and up her spine when your tongue flattened against her, pushing through her folds as your lips wrapped around her.

Her thighs squeezed around your head and she shut her eyes; the gentle curls and prods of your soft tongue set her on fire, and the way you rubbed at her thighs, squeezing gently, made goosebumps run up her skin.

She really was quite sensitive, for you could tell exactly how her body would react each time you dragged your tongue up her cunt, pressed against her clit, or secured your lips a little tighter around her.

You were gentle and intentional with how you ate her out, and Wanda could tell obviously that you certainly weren’t as inexperienced as she was.

When opened her eyes and looked down, she met your gaze and immediately felt that you were too far away, and she quickly came to prefer not to come without you much closer to her.

She loosened the grip of her thighs and reached down, her hand coming to the side of your head.

“I want you up here,” she said.

You couldn’t exactly hear what she said, but you could tell she wanted you to stop, so you lifted your head and Wanda guided you back up her body.

Quietly, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“I want you with me,” Wanda told you, wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you close so your chest was flush against hers. Her other hand found your wrist and she led it down between her thighs.

You felt that you previously didn’t understand Wanda the way that you now did after being intimate with her. She was sensitive and a bit shy, and you hadn’t expected her to be so loving and attentive when it was your turn before.

There were things like the way she squeezed her arm around your torso when your fingers entered her, sighed into your chest, her head tucked under the crook of your neck, and took every opportunity to keep her body pressed against yours, that made you begin to reshape how you saw her.

You liked to hold her, to kiss the top of her head. You liked how she kept pulling you against her.

“Is this okay?” you asked.

She nodded quickly.

“Am I going too fast?”

Wanda shook her head.

She felt warm and tight around your fingers, and you were beginning to feel a sort of intimacy feeling the way she squeezed around you, and how she fluttered subtly when she moaned and arched her back to adjust herself.

“Say you want me, Y/N…” she whispered softly.

You lowered yourself to kiss her temple. “I want you, Wanda,” you said. ”You feel so good around my fingers. You’re so wet.”

She whimpered, eyes squeezing shut again as she lolled her head to the side to lay against your chest.

“You feel so warm,” you told her, lips brushing against her forehead. Her hand squeezed at your side. “I think you’re so pretty, and sensitive, and I want to take care of you. I want to make you feel good. I really… want to be with you.”

The words nearly made Wanda want to cry, and she lifted her head, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. She’d never felt so much connection and longing for another person before.

It frightened her, at the back of her mind, feeling the way she began to cling at you. It was only you who she’d felt all this for, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if suddenly none of this worked out. She felt an overwhelming sense of passion, felt it as it filled her chest and forced her to take big breaths to soothe the feeling.

You sped up, mostly curious to hear how wet she was, and Wanda yelped a little, her back arching and pressing her stomach against yours. Her knee bent and she parted her legs further.

You ran your eyes across her naked body, the way she was spread beneath you and clinging onto you, listened to her deep groans and little yelps and whimpers, watched her breasts rise and fall.

When Wanda came she was much quieter than you were. She hugged herself close and cried out into the crook of your neck, her sweet-smelling hair filling your nose. Her other hand grasped at your shoulder, and you paid close attention to how she pulsed around your fingers.

Suddenly her hand came down to wrap around your wrist, and she kept your fingers in place while her body shuddered with the aftermath of her orgasm.

Keeping your fingers deep inside of her and moving them not even a little let you feel her every movement while Wanda’s body slowly relaxed. She wanted to keep feeling you inside of her, just to feel that intimacy for a few moments more.

Then she nudged your hand away on account of how tired she was to speak, and you carefully pulled your fingers out of her.

As you looked at her beneath you and listened to her tired sighs and pants, you thought about how you’d seen Wanda as a woman on a platform for much of your time with her. Though you liked her and were attracted to her, you thought you’d always seen her and felt a little intimidated; she felt far away and greater, bigger, than your own life.

But now she seemed sensitive and delicate, panting, her chest rising and falling, her body coated with a sheen of sweat, her closed eyes fluttering gently. She looked incredibly vulnerable, and in this state it was far easier for you to tell that it truly had been her first time with a woman, and with anyone she felt very interested in or close to in a while.

You thought of her in more detail, your hand rubbing against her lower stomach, her own hand wrapped loosely around your bicep, her arm other around your waist.

Wanda had been married and divorced before, she had children and a business and years of her experienced life that you hadn’t yet lived. It still remained true that there were things you didn’t quite yet know about her, and things that would always indicate a difference in your ages and experience, and a general difference in how you lived your lives.

But in spite of all that, she had chosen to be here with you, and wanted you here with her.

At the moment her cheek was pressed against your chest, and she adjusted herself and guided you so you could wrap both your arms around her shoulders. She intertwined your legs with hers and tucked her head beneath your chin.

You wondered the kinds of things she must be thinking.

The truth was that you wouldn’t know unless you asked or she told you, but sometimes even that wouldn’t be able to capture exactly the way she might feel — when words and language couldn’t bridge the gap of Wanda being unable to word how she was experiencing a romance and an affection that she hadn’t ever before.

You thought a little about what Wanda said about her marriage before, and you wondered if you really made her feel seen and taken care of.

You felt her breathing in your arms, listened to her soft inhales and exhales, held her body, and were the only one she wanted to be with and share this time with.

“Can you sleep over, Y/N?” Wanda asked, lifting her head and meeting your eyes after adjusting her body to allow you to hold her more comfortably. She looked sleepy.

You laid onto your side fully so your head was on the same pillow as hers. “Do you want me to?” you asked.

She nodded. “Can you, please?”

“I’ll have to leave early in the morning since I live so far.”

A smile spread on her face and she nudged at your shoulder softly.

“I want to stay over,” you then told her seriously, kissing her forehead and eliciting a little sigh of pleasure from Wanda.

She said quietly, “I think I should get up and get ready for bed. I might still have a little makeup on.”

Before you could nod and ask if she had any clothes you could borrow, she sat up and looked at you. Her face was shadowed and her hair, now having lost the curl she had given it this afternoon, was a bit messy, and looked very soft.

You reached out to touch her hair, just to smooth some stray strands down, and make her face more visible. She tipped her face into your caresses, the back of your fingers brushing against her cheekbone.

While Wanda brushed her teeth and you were about to change into the pajamas she let you borrow, you suggested that you might shower together before bed. For most of the night there was minimal talking — not because you had nothing to talk about, but because both of you were far more occupied with just being together.

Wanda’s hair was nice to feel when you lathered shampoo into it, and her fingers were strong when she washed yours. Her lotion smelled like the tiny whiffs you sometimes got around her but were certain wasn’t her perfume — it was her lotion.

On the bathroom counter were her earrings she sometimes wore and her glasses, and her makeup and face wash and hairbrush.

You liked seeing everything, and you liked being able to touch her whenever you felt, feeling your arms around her waist and being able to kiss her face and her exposed shoulders.

“Do you think… you’ll regret doing this?” Wanda asked quietly after some moments of silence while you laid together, the tone of her voice trying to communicate a space for you to be open and truthful with her. “You can be honest. It’s okay.”

You immediately looked over to her. She was on her side, her hand tucked under her pillow as she looked at you. The blankets were pulled up to her chin, making her look tiny. “No, not at all,” you told her. “I really want to spend more time with you, and I really like you. I’m interested in you.”

Then you wiggled a little closer to her so your knees bumped against hers, making her laugh at how you moved yourself into her personal space.

She wiggled close too until your noses were all but touching, and you could tell Wanda was trying not to giggle.

“I want this,” you said. The serious tone of your voice sounded silly with how close you were to her face, and Wanda couldn’t hold herself back from laughing just a little.

“Okay,” Wanda replied with a determined little nod once she stopped laughing. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “Good. So do I.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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ranpoesgirl · 4 months

Text

HOME IS WHEREVER I’M WITH YOU— CHUUYA N.

— synopsis; 15!Chuuya who invites you over because he isn’t ‘comfortable’ in his large apartment…

— a/n; not the best but I tried— the idea was way better than the final results.. ((could be considered as a second part of this

Chuuya had never been used to the term ‘home’. It was always ‘base’ or ‘hideout’ but never a place he could enter without expecting the worst. It was always a temporary place for him and the sheep to rest before the sunrises.

The first time he held the keys of his apartment, he felt lightheaded, disgusted and took heavy breaths remembering a silent promise made by him and the sheep to stay together once they were finally free from their trapped lives.

Stepping foot into the large furnished apartment felt wrong, each step felt heavy and unwanted.

He had many life skills, yet couldn’t being himself to use his home for even the most basic necessities as to cook himself when he’s starving, when he tries, he can’t bare swallowing it…

“Chuuya!”

He heard his name being called out tenderly, as though his body recognized the voice before his thoughts could, he turned his heel and walked towards you.

“You look awful,” you tilt your head curiously looking at his slightly disheveled hair that didn’t match his eye bags as he grumbled at your words.

“Good morning to you too,” your name spat out his mouth with venom making you cringe at his forced greeting.

You try to fix his hair by brushing it out of his face but he immediately stepped back glaring at you, “I mean it, you look restless… and that’s a big deal coming from you,”

You were right, it was a big deal.

His body was used to staying up for days and weeks, maybe even months. After all, he always used to stay alert while the sheep rested in peace.

“Were you getting enough sleep, Chuuya?”

And once again, you called him back to his attention with genuine care in your voice, one that you shouldn’t need to show him.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping, not used to living alone in a unnecessary large apartment.” He gave you a simple firm answer.

And this was your chance to tell him to sleep early, or taking sleeping pills, or maybe even recommend him with some weird asmr—

“Would you like company?”

…

“Do you hear yourself?”, you huffed at his response, “I was just offering a solution,”

He groaned in exhaustion pushing his hair back, he didn’t have neither the energy or the time to put into your shenanigans…

Maybe it was because of how exhausted he was, maybe it was his body’s desperate plea for rest, but you were now twirling the keys to his house as he held onto a tote bag with your ‘essentials’ as you put it.

He could feel his eyes twitch in irritation when you struggle to put the key in the hole and turn it, he began regretting his choices, he truly did.

Finally opening it, you entered the place taking a look around the empty walls decorated with unpleasant abstract artwork that probably costs thousands, the halls so bare and empty, a splash of water would make it interesting.

“There is an extra room opposite to the living room, you can use that as a guest bedroom, but there is only one bathroom, you could borrow my shampoo and—

“I’ve bought my own.” You pull your tote bag out of his grasp as you hastily removed your shoes at the shoe stand and walk over to the bathroom.

“Of course, you have…” he grumbled.

You placed your necessities on the sink and shower before walking over to the room and opening the door to only toss your bag on the bed before closing it behind you.

“Tired? Or do you want to waste some energy?” You ask him from a distance as I crashed onto his couch. He thought for a bit before shrugging his shoulders, “I’m going to bed, stay up all you want.”

And with that, he left to his room while you binge watched whatever was on the large tv screen…

Chuuya didn’t want to admit it… he really didn’t.

But he managed to fall asleep.

Sure, it took awhile and it wasn’t a lot but it was nonetheless, the rest he needed to function.

He walked out of his room with a pair of fresh clothes to freshen up in the bathroom when he caught sight of the tv still on and displaying ‘are you still watching?’.

He walked over annoyed by the fact you didn’t bother turning it off but when he went to reach the remote, he heard soft breaths from… you.

You fell asleep on the couch…

He didn’t bother waking you up, he instead wrote a sticky note informing you about his absence in the house.

He contemplated leaving a few yen notes for you to go have breakfast but ultimately decided to write down a restaurant name and telling you to go to and put the meal under his tab.

Everything felt lighter on his shoulders, his neck was no longer tight, eyes didn’t look like he had 10 packs of Red Bull in one go.

But as he unlocked the door to his apartment, he was scared on what to say to you. Should he inform you that your presence helped? Should he ask you to continue to stay? What if you decide your job is done and leave?

“Chuuya, welcome home!”

His breath hitched at the soft call of his name welcoming him to his own home, he felt sick… he was not happy with how his heart fluttered at those words…

“…what’s that?”, he drew his attention to the bouquet of flowers in a glass vase in the middle of the table.

“The flowers? Do you not like them?”, your tone held a sad grimace which gave him a jolt.

“I never said that…” he whispered in a hushed sense of guilt as he felt the soft petals in contrast to his rough hands.

Lilies and Gladiolus…

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at kitchen, a cabinet open displaying flour and other items in jars and packaging.

Walking over to open the fridge, he found a new gallon of milk, and other dairy items, a few condiments even.

His eyes softened as the corner of his lips turned as much as he tried not to, “hey, would you mind staying for a while..?”

You woke up in your room and laid there for a while before finally getting up to head to the bathroom.

In there you found chuuya wiping his face with a white towel, you tried greeting him but you were too groggy to the point you sounded like a turtle out of sea.

You heard him laugh in a low tone from his throat, waking you up in surprise that he sounded like that. He seemed to notice your attention on it as well.

“morning voice..” he mumbled in that exact tone, you felt blood rush to your face when he spoke once again.

You noticed his startled face so you went back to brushing your teeth. He stared at you from the mirror for a bit before leaving, he put a palm on his face as he felt it face heat up.

This felt way too domestic…

It became a routine, the both of you would wake up, get ready for the morning, he’d cook breakfast, go to work, eat lunch at the restaurant, come home together, he’d cook dinner as you cleaned the house, and repeat cycle.

All for Chuuya to be able to get comfortable in his home and have a good night sleep…

The truth is, he managed to do so with a week of your presence, but he couldn’t let go of the feeling of coming home to you, or coming home with you…

And tonight when you didn’t come home he bombarded you with calls and messages, yet no response. He was worried, so he decided to call your colleague, and he got a response.

“Could you not sleep alone for the night?”

He hung up.

He sat on his bed in silence before realizing what happened, he quickly sent a text telling you it was alright and he was just checking so that he doesn’t have to stay up all night so that he could unlock the front door for you.

Knowing he’d gladly stay up all night once again if it were for you…

He slumped onto the bed trying to fall asleep, and to his disappointment that he actually fell asleep without you, he woke up and continued his routine, this time without you.

He hated how addicted he became to you…

The following days, seeing you in the halls of the port mafia felt awful, seeing how the both of you did completely fine without the need for each other’s presence— sure, he didn’t need it but he knew he was the only one who wanted it.

As much as he didn’t like the thought, he sucked it up and continued to be beside you like how you were before all of this, he doesn’t want to blame you for his unnecessary childish wants.

So like any other day, he finally poured the rice into the rice cooker before going to clean up the mess on the counter tops until his door bell rang.

Chuuya sighed irritated at the thought of seeing his landlord at 11:45 in the night but still went to open the door to only see you.

He did not like how much his chest lightened and heart fluttered.

“What are you doing here.” He did not mean for his voice to sound as stern and agitated as it did but the way you flinched was enough to make him retract.

“No, no, I meant, what do you want— no, that’s— what is— fuck…! Just… just come in…”

You blinked before letting out a laugh, as you entered, “sorry, I just came back from a mission and I simply missed you…”

His heart squeezed at the thought of him on your mind alone, band in a desperate attempt to forget it, “sit, I’ll put you some rice,”

And once again, he was back with you, eating at the dinner table with a vase of lilies and gladioluses in the middle.

After dinner, you went to your room, he thought that was the end of it but the sound of shuffling made him turn around to see you dragging your blanket and pillows to the couch.

“…what’re you doing?”, he asked you curiously as you turned on the tv before waving your hand at him to come over.

He does as you want and takes a seat beside you, he was caught off guard when you began wrapping the blanket around the both of you.

As you rest your head onto his side while whatever you chose played in the background but it was all muffled, the only thing he could hear was the light breaths from you.

He took in your scent as he let you rest on him before whispering into nothing.

“You make my house a home…”

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 Part 4

Jungkook wants to create a home for you- not knowing that that's already what he is to you.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, former criminal!Jungkook, mentions of past neglect/abuse, reader has some pretty bad psychological problems (OCD, Anxiety, Selective mutism, hints at an eating disorder), hypersomnia, road to recovery, hurt and lots of comfort, angst, Jungkook has some problems with aggression and swears a lot, more TBA in future chapters

Length: 1.2k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook is wary as he walks into the rather.. unique building, old school reformed into what looks like a daycare for hybrids of different ages it appears like.

Some rooms are furnished, others are clearly meant for younger hybrids, and he even walks past a room that’s only filled with pillows and blankets and stuffed animals of all sizes, flooring entirely made up of mattresses. Overall, this is not what he thought the correctional facility would look like- as the man with the cat eyes approaches him, soft smile on his otherwise rather stoic face. “I’m happy you decided to come by so soon.” He tells him, black cat ears moving a little between his equally dark long hair. “Min Yoongi. I assume this bag is for her?” He asks, and Jungkook nods, still not quite understanding.

This man is a hybrid himself. And yet he’s clearly wearing a staff-badge on his casual clothing.

“I’ll explain some of the structure to you while I’ll let staff look through the things- just for protocol.” He tells him, giving the bag to an elderly woman who takes it, after Yoongi writes your tag number on a plastic card and attaches it to the black sportsbag Jungkook brought with him.

“They’re currently having lunch together.” Yoongi says, as he walks down a hall with Jungkook right behind him. “But she’s not very social- and she seems to be wary of most foods, so she eats by herself with the help of staff.” The cat hybrid hums. “We don’t know much about her, only have her paperwork- but we usually like to paint the picture ourselves.”

“Did she... eat well here?” Jungkook asks, hands in his pockets.

“So-so.” Yoongi admits. “The seperation from you clearly made her shrink back into her shell quite a bit. She refused to come out of a corner in her room for hours after she arrived.” He explains, and Jungkook frowns.

“She likes.. Mild cheeses. Like, the animal shaped kind you can get at the supermarket.” Jungkook mumbles. “And simple stuff. Like chicken soup. Or you know.. Anything I eat, really.”

Yoongi chuckles. “You eat animal shaped cheese?”

“Shut up.” Jungkook snaps a little bashfully, when Yoongi opens a door.

“This is her room. Temporary, of course.” Yoongi explains as they both walk in. “See, here’s how it’s going to go down.” Yoongi offers, sitting down on a chair in one corner of the tiny room, while Jungkook awkwardly stands in front of your bed. “I know who you are, and what you’ve done. Your situation isn’t ideal to say the least.” The worker tells him. “But- I filed in for mutual rehabilitation. And the court agreed.”

“Mutual.. Rehabilitation?” Jungkook repeats, unsure. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does.” Yoongi shrugs. “You told the janitor back at the carecenter that you’d take on a job if she was to live with you?”

Jungkook fidgets a little, shrugs, as he looks down at his shoes. “Yeah. Maybe at a grocery store. Night shift, or something. So she’s asleep when I’m gone, and.. Won't miss me or something.” He explains.

“Do you have room for her at your apartment?” Yoongi continues to question.

“She could have my bedroom.” He shrugs again. "I could just sleep on the pull out couch in the living room, no big deal-” He tells the hybrid, who chuckles.

“What about food? Do you know what a hybrid needs?” He wonders, leaning back a little with crossed arms.

“I know that she needs supplements? Like, I looked up some, and there’s like.. Little packets? That you can mix with water and it apparently tastes like fruit or something.” Jungkook explains. “and there’s other stuff you can use in meals that don’t taste like anything.”

“You've done research?” Yoongi smiles. “Even though you were so sure you’d never get to adopt her?”

“I.. Was thinking that maybe a friend of mine could. Instead of me.” He explains, carefully sitting on the very edge of the bed. “And he’s never owned a hybrid before so I wanted to make sure I.. could like, give him advice if needed.”

“Well, it might not be so impossible for you to take her in after all.” The cat hybrid jokes. “I’d say, after you go home today, clean up back there. Get stuff ready. They’ll send someone to check your home in a week or so, just to make sure. It’ll be random. Just so you can’t prepare.” He informs Jungkook, who nods, suddenly determined.

If there’s a chance at getting both his freedom, and you at the same time- then he’ll take it.

“Then, you’ll get three weeks trial.” He explains further. “If there’s no hiccups during that time- meaning she runs off, gets hurt due to negligence, or otherwise has complaints- you'll sign a permanent housing contract.” Yoongi tells him.

“Housing?” He asks, confused.

“We.. Don't like to call it ‘ownership’. A little outdated, don’t you think? She’s not a pet after all. Neither am I.” He jokes, grinning a little.

“...true.” Jungkook mumbles, when a woman is heard laughing.

“Hey, careful, you’re gonna trip sweetheart!” She calls out with a clear smile in her tone, when the door suddenly swings open, revealing you- wide eyed, tail wagging fast, instantly tearing up as you spot Jungkook on the bed.

You can’t help it.

You basically tackle the young man, making everyone laugh at how he desperately attempts to not have you fall off the corner of the bed with him together, though you miserably fail at that, ending up on the floor where you squeeze yourself as closely to him as you can, now on his lap.

“I hope they set out an extra plate?” Yoongi asks the elderly woman who laughs.

“Oh, they did!” She laughs.

And indeed, they did.

Though, technically, they did not need an extra chair, as you’re still sitting on his lap at the lunch table, most hybrids already finished and washing their dishes- some with help, others by themselves. You’re happily eating your soup now that you’ve seen Jungkook eat it too- seemingly taking his actions as a sign that whatever you’re eating right now is safe.

“Are they being nice to you?” Jungkook asks you as you finish your bowl of soup, making you nod, before you press yourself back into him. “Yoongi said I can visit you every day if you want.” He offers, and at that, he can feel your tail wag against his thigh. “Though I gotta get your room ready back at my place.”

You look over your shoulder at him in surprise, and he can’t help but laugh.

“What, did you think you’re gonna stay here?” He asks, and you just shrug. “Nah.” He shakes his head, before he smiles.

“You got somewhere to call ‘home’ soon.”

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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murdrdocs · 6 months

Note

Ares would give such good but messy head and he would grip your hips so hard to stop you from squirming and leave bruises

explicit content; MDNI

you’re first noticing the marks when you’re standing in front of the mirror in his shirt, stretching as you brush your teeth. at first, you think it’s a trick on your eyes. you rub at them, getting rid of the crust in the corners, and then lift the end of the shirt to find marks on your hips.

they’re a little far apart, not necessarily patterned. but it doesn’t take you too long to put it together. you’re just a bit shocked, standing with your toothbrush limply hanging in your mouth as you turn this way and that, trying to get the perfect angle of the new guests on your body.

it takes you back to when they were created. two days ago when you had just gotten to ares’ place (a surprisingly tastefully furnished place he kept solely for these encounters, you’re convinced). you were used to being the one behaving depraved. the one to throw yourself at him after not seeing him in person for only a week. phone calls and facetimes and watching his tweets could only provide so much happiness.

but it’s he who had you pulled into his chest and eventually thrown over his shoulder as soon as your sneakers were slipped off. he had you thrown back against his bed with your pants off before you could even ask him about his day. almost adorably, you still try to do so, asking what he had gotten up to while he’s pulling your panties down and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

he humored you, telling you about the very public twitter fight he caused, and the not half bad sandwich he had at the deli down the street. he tells you that he brought you one, too, and it’s sitting in the fridge waiting for you. but you barely had time to dwell on the romanticism of his admission before he was beginning to devour you.

his hands were pressed into your hips, long and deft fingers uselessly situated in the crease created where your thigh met your pelvis. at the time, you thought his hands could be of more use if they were between your thighs instead of on the outside, but it was stupid to doubt ares. he easily makes you cum with his mouth alone, simply due to how messy he is with it.

audibly slurping up the mix of saliva and your essence. humming and groaning as he licked and sucked around. opening his mouth to slip his tongue into your walls, massaging around before licking around the entrance, and then doing it again.

and then standing in the mirror a couple of days later, enough time for the bruises to make a temporary home on your hips, you’re left with the reminder of what he’ll likely do as soon as you see him again.

#aresworld!#ares x reader #ares pjo x reader #celeste writes pjo #ares x you

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months

Text

Family Name

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader (reader was in the Army and SWAT in Central City)

Summary: After ten years away, you return to Gotham. When you discover you know the true identity of the Joker, you join Batman's fight to save Gotham.

Warnings: angst, fluff, vague references to several DC Comics movies and timelines, murder (I can't get too specific about the murder warning without spoiling a plot point, but there is a friendly fire aspect and an assassination by a sniper)

Word Count: 6.6k+ words

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bruce Wayne (or at least posting it lol) so he may be OOC. I actually wrote most of this a year ago and just put the finishing touches on it, so I'm not sure if it's worth reading. Feel free to let me know what you think and send any Bruce Wayne requests you have so I can keep practicing for him! (If you want a specific characterization/actor let me know.)

The map that I used as a reference while writing is included at the end!

Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info

Gotham is still cold, wet, and smelly. Some things never change, no matter how hard a certain vigilante tries. It’s been nearly ten years since you last set foot in Gotham, and things have changed. For better or worse? Who can tell?

It is raining as you walk out of the train station on the outer border of Gotham City. You shiver and pull your jacket closer to your body as the cold drizzle starkly contrasts the sunny Central City you came from. You hail a cab and tell the driver the address of your temporary apartment. The news station on the radio catches your attention, and the driver turns it up when you ask.

“After a fearsome showdown last night with the Joker, who is still missing from Arkham Asylum, the Batman has been spotted in downtown Gotham. The GCPD is on high alert following several tips of illegal business at the Iceberg Lounge,” they report.

“You new in town?” the driver asks.

“Not exactly. I haven’t been here in years though,” you explain.

“Then you’re new. This is a whole new Gotham. Just stay on the good side of the Batman and you’ll be fine, kid. This is you.”

After paying the driver and pulling your bags from the trunk, you stand on the sidewalk and look up at the place you now call home. The apartment building is old but in decent condition. Especially considering where it is. As the rain grows heavier, you move inside, climbing the stairs to the third floor and entering your apartment. The unit came furnished, so you only have some clothing to unpack. You start a list of the housewares and cleaning supplies you’ll need to buy. Walking around the living room, you notice the cable is hooked up and turn on the television. The local television channels are either out because of the rain or playing broadcasts of last night’s story. Any background noise will do, you suppose, as you leave a news channel on and begin unpacking and cleaning with what little bit of supplies you have.

After cleaning, you take a break and fall back onto the couch. The news is still on, and a face flashes across the scene, filling you with an odd sense of recognition. You lean forward to get a better view before exclaiming, “No way.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“When did you come back?” someone asks as you enter a small department store.

Looking up, you smile when you see a familiar face. “Barbara, hey! Last night. Been in Central City for too long.”

“Should have stayed there,” she says, laughing humorlessly. “Gotham is quite literally the most crime ridden city in the world now. It’s on the sign and everything. At least in Central you have a vigilante to protect you.”

“So does Gotham,” you point out. “He’s all over the news.”

“Yeah, we do. But for every criminal he puts in Arkham, ten more pop up.”

“Is your dad still a cop?”

“He’s the commissioner now. Actually…” She pulls a card out of her wallet and hands it to you. “Call him if you ever get in trouble. Be careful, okay? This isn’t the Gotham you remember.”

“I will. Thanks.”

You watch her leave before you begin shopping for the items on your list. After shopping, you are back in your apartment, cleaning and organizing. The Gotham News has more showtime than Hannah Montana in the 2000s. You find yourself invested in every story they present. Maybe this isn’t the Gotham you remember, but it is still Gotham and your home. If this city needs help, you'll offer everything you have.

“Citizens of Gotham, I am Police Commissioner James Gordon. Regarding the recent red alert at Arkham Asylum, the GCPD is urging residents to stay indoors, lock doors and windows, and most importantly, stay calm. We are not sure at this time how many, if any, patients escaped the asylum. Anyone with information is encouraged to contact crime stoppers at 800-”

You mute the television and look at your closet. An armour-plated uniform hangs front and centre, practically begging you to put it on and fight for your home. If Barbara doesn’t think Batman can handle all the criminals, maybe he would appreciate a little help.

“Don’t be stupid,” you chastise yourself, still looking at the closet. A few minutes later, you find yourself standing in front of the closet, thinking, “But you have the training.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Gotham looks much darker from a rooftop. You find a lookout spot a few blocks from Arkham, assuming anyone who escaped will have to pass you eventually.

“Oh, sweet Gotham! Riddle me this!” a high-pitched voice calls. A moment later, you see a man dressed in a green suit entering the alley below you.

“Now or never,” you whisper as you move toward the edge.

“The more of it there is, the less of all you see. What is it?” Riddler asks.

“Darkness,” you answer as you grab his shoulders.

You pull him backwards and knock him to the ground. His breath rushes out at the impact, and you bring your elbow down to his face, rendering him unconscious before he can catch his breath. The burner phone you bought earlier is programmed with James Gordon’s number in it.

“Gordon,” he answers.

“Riddler is unconscious in the alley at Tomlinson and Pygall,” you say lowly, hoping your voice is disguised enough, before hanging up.

Your attention is ripped away from the unconscious criminal as a silhouette of a bat floats across the sky.

“There’s hope yet, Gotham,” you say, smiling.

✯✯✯✯✯

It seems as though you are better at vigilantism than you expected. Everywhere you go, Batman is either already there or crosses your path. He has yet to see you, that much is sure. Lurking on a dark rooftop, you hear the telltale sign of his grappling hook and are a second too late in realizing he is moving onto the same roof as you.

“So, you’re the one who’s been stealing half my jobs?” he asks, walking toward you.

“You seem busy, thought you might like some help,” you respond, shrugging as you change your voice again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the thought. But you need to go home. This is dangerous and you could get hurt.”

You internally roll your eyes at his obvious arguments. “So could you.”

“Doesn’t matter if I get hurt.”

“Me neither. Any idea how many more of them are out there?”

Batman sighs and turns away from you to look over the city. “One or two,” he answers. “The city got lucky; Joker was in solitary and didn’t get out.”

You nod to yourself, moving toward the edge as you ask, “Why does it seem so easy to escape Arkham?”

“Poor security, not enough staff, an old building. The list is endless. Every time someone tries to strengthen it, a stronger foe comes along and breaks it again.”

“You’ve been doing this a long time.”

“Yet nothing’s changed.”

A sound behind you stops your answer. Turning toward the sound, you launch yourself onto the fire escape, ignoring Batman’s pleas to stop.

“Whoa,” you breathe, looking at the plants growing in the alley.

“You’re not the Bat,” Poison Ivy, whose news special aired last night, says. “You’d look much better in green than him.”

“Every plant I’ve ever owned has died. It’s one of my talents,” you taunt before throwing a canister from your belt.

“It won’t work, Buttercup. I’ve been tear gassed many times.”

“It’s not just tear gas,” you call as the plants begin to wither. “It’s concentrated sulfur dioxide. Deadly to plants and debilitating to people.”

She coughs several times before falling. An arm wraps around your waist, and you are hoisted through the air before landing on a rooftop.

“What was that?!” Batman demands.

“Sulfur dioxide.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it! You can’t just run around taunting criminals in a mask. What if that hadn’t worked and she had hurt you?”

“She didn’t. Besides-“

“No! You don’t get to justify this.” He keeps talking, and you feel like you have heard him before. You watch him closely as he continues berating you.

“This is not a game. Do you understand that?” Bingo. You smile at him, his chest heaving as he prepares to yell at you again.

“You’re still really protective,” you say lightly.

Batman turns toward you quickly, shaking his head before asking, “What?”

“In middle school you wouldn’t let me jump from the top of the swing set. Just funny that you’re still so protective when you risk your life every single night.”

“What are you talking about?”

You move toward the edge of the building and look over your shoulder at him.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

Batman runs to the edge after you jump, but the alley is empty.

“Alfred,” he calls into his earpiece.

“You’ll figure it out, sir. Eventually.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Didn’t I tell you to stay home?” Batman asks as he walks up behind you.

“No. You told me I couldn’t run around taunting criminals in a mask. Which, by the way, I have some questions about. Can I walk and taunt criminals in a mask or is it the taunting that’s the problem?” you tease, looking up at him from your crouched position.

“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “I’ll give you a pass for the other night, but you need to go home. Right now. I’m not letting you get hurt for this.”

“Then don’t. Watch my back and I’ll watch yours.” You extend your hand for a handshake as you stand.

“No deal. Go home.”

“I’m not going home. So, stay with me and we can help each other or I’m going to go hunt him down on my own.”

He narrows his eyes at you before sighing and shaking your hand.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“We always were a pretty good team.”

You see the moment of recognition as his jaw drops under the cowl. He recovers quickly and points at you.

“Ground rules. Number one: you don’t engage. Two: stay hidden. Three: run if things go south.”

“Got it. Be boring,” you relay.

“This is not the time for jokes. Our lives are on the line. You don’t even have a good reason to be here.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Please enlighten me,” Batman prods impatiently.

You can tell he is mad you were here and are not listening to him. Too bad, Bats, you think. Gotham is your home, too, and you aren’t going to let it fall into the hands of some crazy clown or any other criminal.

“But before you tell me that, tell me what makes you qualified to be out here.”

“Look at me. Armoured uniform, tear gas, I’m a CCPD jacket short of official.”

“You’re CCPD?”

“I was. SWAT officer for five years after I got out of the Army. But I grew up here and I’m not letting this city go without a fight.”

“Why this fight? The one criminal we haven’t been able to stop for almost a decade?”

“Because...” You look up at him and smile. “I know who he is.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Thank you, Batman,” Commissioner Gordon says, shaking Batman’s hand. “We’ll get him in solitary.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Batman replies.

“Who’s your new helper? Everyone at the station is talking about the reaper that popped up and knows how to take them all down.”

“An old friend. Try to keep them in a while longer this time, will you?”

Commissioner Gordon turns around to see Batman is gone. “We’ll try,” he mumbles into the dark.

✯✯✯✯✯

The next night, Batman is gone. You don’t so much as see his shadow all night. There is only one criminal out; maybe they’re all on vacation, too. Killer Croc used Arkham’s sewer system to escape and pop up downtown. It was a long and tiresome fight, but you got him on the ground, and the GCPD took it from there. You finally reach the rooftop, preparing to cross them to go home, but don't make it far. Hitting the roof, you feel pain shoot through your ribs. After running your hand across the area, your skin is stained red. Great, you think.

“What were you thinking?!” Batman reprimands you as he appears and kneels beside you, pulling items from his utility belt.

“Mostly about what I was going to eat for dinner,” you joke, hissing when the antiseptic hits your skin.

“I’m sorry,” Batman says quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy. At least it wasn’t my neck this time.”

“I told you not to use your belt to traverse the jungle gym,” Batman mumbles.

“So, you do remember me,” you say happily.

“You’re still an idiot with a death wish.”

“And you’re still Mother Hen Bruce.”

“This’ll help for now,” he says, helping you stand up and hooking his arm under your shoulders. “But I’m taking you back to the cave to get you checked out.”

“Didn’t do enough checking out in high school?” you slur before passing out.

“Alfred, we’re inbound,” he says into his microphone.

“Glad to see blood loss doesn’t dampen her sarcasm,” Alfred responds, “I’ll be ready.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What did you mean you know who he is?” Bruce asks.

You blink several times to make sure you aren’t imagining him. He looks different than the last time you saw him. Without the mask, he’s more like the Bruce you grew up with, just older and barely holding Gotham together.

“You got hot,” you say without thinking.

“Thanks. Now tell me what you meant.”

“That I know who he is?” you clarify, standing up.

“Please stay down,” Alfred chides as he returns with tea.

“Thanks, Alfred. Good to see you again.” You smile as you accept the tea.

“You as well. Now take it easy. You should be battle ready in a day or two but that’s only if you rest properly.”

“No, you will not be battle ready. There is no more battle for you,” Bruce adds.

“You know I’m not going to listen and if you tell me no I’ll just do it myself.”

“We’ll have this conversation later. For now, tell me what you know about Joker.”

“Okay. He’s my uncle. Like twice removed, or-“

“There’s no way you’re related to that monster,” Bruce interjects.

“I’m not, really. We’re related by marriage. His aunt or somebody else married my cousin and I happened to meet him a few times. Fate, I guess.”

“Do you know his name?”

“No. Everyone in the family called him J. I thought his name started with a J but see now that it’s because he’s cuckoo for cocoa puffs.”

Bruce chuckles and shakes his head before turning serious again. “Are you really okay?”

“I’m great. Thanks for the assist.”

“I’m glad you’re back. Even if you are endangering yourself and ignoring everything I say.”

“Me too.”

“But Alfred’s right. You need some rest. We can finish this conversation later.”

“I can go home,” you say, standing up.

You stumble slightly, and Bruce catches you, holding you upright against him.

“Can you?” he asks, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I think I found something,” you cheer when Bruce answers the phone.

“Where are you?”

“My apartment. It’s by Sacred Heart.”

The line goes silent, so you say Bruce’s name.

“You’re living by the Narrows? I thought you just went out there to fight.”

“It’s a fine building. I’m not in the Narrows.”

“No but you’re between Crime Alley and Arkham Island. You need to find a new place. Now.”

“I can’t afford anything else, Bruce. It was this or Slaughter Swamp.”

“Pack your essentials. I’ll be there in twenty.”

He hangs up, leaving you with a dozen questions. However, you know he means what he says, so you pack the stuff you can’t live without and are ready to go when he shows up twenty minutes later.

“You’re staying at Wayne Manor until we find you a new place.”

“That is not necessary.”

“It’s not just that this is close to the Narrows. We’re going after Joker, and I need to know you’re safe.”

“We’re not going after Joker,” you correct, “we’re finishing this.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bruce, I can’t find a marriage certificate. They may not have been married; maybe they were just living together or something and didn’t want to explain it to a kid,” you admit, disappointed in your lack of findings.

“It’s okay. We will find something. And if we don’t, we can do it another way,” he assures.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is the fourth Arkham breakout in as many weeks. When do you sleep?” you ask.

Alfred laughs faintly through the communications system.

“During Wayne Enterprises meetings, usually,” Bruce answers.

“I got one. Going dark,” you alert before jumping to meet Captain Boomerang.

After a short fight which results in your earpiece breaking, Captain Boomerang is unconscious, and you prepare to call Gordon.

“Ha ha ha ha,” an eerie voice cackles behind you.

You freeze in place before turning slowly and coming face-to-face with the Joker. He knocks your helmet off in one swift move, and your face is now visible.

“I remember you. My aunt married your second cousin. Horrible family you have. Or should I say had? Ha ha ha ha.”

“What do you want?”

“Is a family reunion not enough? No, I guess you’re right. I mean, marriages end so are we even related anymore?”

“We never were.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Reaper! You know everyone calls you that, don’t ya? Personally, I think it’s a bit morbid but to each their own. I also heard from a little bird that you’re working with the big, bad bat. I had such great hopes for you, and you let me down.”

“What do you want?” you repeat slowly.

“To be family again,” he answers, smiling as he runs his fingers over your face and hair.

“What about Harley? Isn’t she your family? You were all she could talk about the other night.”

“Not anymore. She settled for some used piece on her Suicide Suckers. But me and you? Me and you could be the dream team. The family to end all families.”

“I don’t want to be part of your family.”

“When I found out Harley was a harlot, you know what I said? I said I’d peel off her skin and put it on a new body. But I can’t imagine those words coming from her. So, from now on…” he moves his hand to rest in front of your throat as his smile drops. “If Harley wouldn’t say it, you don’t say it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Alfred, where is she?” Bruce asks.

“Toxic Acres. She’s still not responding,” Alfred responds, watching your tracker blink in the same place for the fifth consecutive minute.

“I’m going after her,” Bruce declares.

“Be careful, Master Bruce.” Bruce doesn’t respond, and Alfred mutes the private connection as he watches Bruce’s tracker move toward yours. “And don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re making a mistake, J,” you hiss, the pressure of Joker’s hand on your throat making it hard, but not impossible, to breathe.

“No, they made a mistake,” he argues, moving his hand slightly as he steps back to look at you.

“Who?”

“Your family. All families. Everyone who treats people like outsiders.”

“You mean to tell me you’re doing this - all of this - because you never felt like you belonged in a family?”

“No!” Joker yells, leaning his weight against your throat as he smiles in your face. “Because no family has ever accepted me. I know I don’t belong, but everyone expects families to lie, right? Especially their own, but no, poor Joker always got told the truth! ‘You’re too strange,’ ‘You’re dangerous,’ ‘The kids are scared of you,’ yet no one ever offered to help me fit in.”

You raise your hands to his arm and claw at his skin, growing desperate for air as he rants. He looks over when your hits grow weaker and pulls his hand back. You fall to the ground, wheezing, as you try to take deep breaths.

Holding your neck, you look up at him and ask, “Then what do you want?”

He kneels in front of you and holds a knife out in his hand. “I want you to find a family and make a Joker-sized hole for me to fill.”

Shaking your head, you argue, “I’m not like you. I won’t do that, J.”

He cocks his head as his smile falls. “Harley wouldn’t say that, would she? And, besides, you’re more like me than you think, aren’t you? And what’s more interesting is that I think you know it. We’re the same, you and I, whether you like it or not.” The knife is raised to your throat as he threatens, “Do it, or I will make another hole in your family.”

“Another?” you ask.

The blade presses against your skin, and you close your eyes, unwilling to give him the theatrics and attention he so desperately seeks. A grappling hook sounds somewhere above you just before the blade is removed from your throat. Joker’s words echo in your head, and your eyes stay closed. Someone gently touches your neck and your face, but you don’t open your eyes, in case it’s him trying to trick you. He does that; you remember that too well.

An arm loops around your waist as a hand pulls your arms over broad shoulders. Only when you’re flying through the air and clinging to him are you ready to admit that Bruce is saving you. Opening your eyes, you see Wayne Tower in the distance. You tighten your arms around Bruce’s neck, and his hand squeezes your waist in response. He lands on the roof of Wayne Manor and rushes into the Batcave.

“What did he do to you?” Bruce asks as he sets you on a medical exam table. The same table you sat on when he saved you after the fight with Killer Croc.

Bruce tries to step back, but you cling to him. He’s the only family you have left, and Joker opened an old wound with his talk of carving a hole in a family to fill himself. That’s what he tried to do with your family, but when he still didn’t fit, he kept carving.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper into Bruce’s suit.

Bruce’s arms wrap around you, pulling you to the edge of the table as he cups your head to his shoulder.

“I’m right here,” he soothes. “Not going anywhere.”

He holds you for longer than you realize; time slows down in Bruce’s arms. When you pull back, he cups your face in his hands and looks at you intently.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not right now,” you whisper.

“That’s okay,” he promises, nodding.

“The guest bedroom has been prepared and dinner is awaiting you, Master Bruce,” Alfred calls, briefly appearing in the doorway of the Batcave.

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” you ask.

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready. And you’re staying here tonight.”

You don’t argue, nodding as you stand and follow Bruce upstairs. He shows you to a guest room with clothes, toiletries, and more books than you can count. Telling you to use whatever you want; he leaves to change before meeting you for dinner.

When you enter the bathroom to change into the clothes you found in the closet, you see yourself in the mirror. Mostly, you see the red line running across your neck. Joker has hurt more than enough people, you decide, and you meant what you told Bruce; you plan to finish this.

✯✯✯✯✯

Bruce sits up suddenly. The sun is coming through the cracks in his curtains, but something feels off. He pulls a shirt over his head and walks down the hall, knocking on the door to the guest room where you’re staying. After a moment of no answer, he lets himself in. There’s a note on the bed in your handwriting.

I can’t let him do it again, especially not to you. Please stay home tonight and let me finish this fight. I should have done it ten years ago, but I was scared and ran. This is my chance to make everything right. Please forgive me.

Bruce takes a deep breath, suppressing his urge to punch a hole in the wall. Alfred wouldn’t appreciate another one. He rereads the note, then goes downstairs for breakfast like everything is fine.

“Where is our guest?” Alfred asks when Bruce enters the dining room. “Resting, I hope.”

“She’s gone. She left in the middle of the night to, quote, finish a fight like she should have done ten years ago.”

Alfred’s eyes widen as he stops moving trays onto the table. “You’re going after her, then?”

“No, Alfred, I am not.”

Bruce picks up the paper, as nonchalant as ever, and more convincing than when he turns on his Brucie Wayne charm.

“Why ever not, sir?”

“She asked me not to. And after her reaction to me last night, I’m inclined to listen to her.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Bruce drops the paper and looks at Alfred. “I am going to do exactly what she said.” When the paper covers his face again, he adds, “For a while.”

“Good man,” Alfred mutters, returning to serving breakfast.

✯✯✯✯✯

Realistically, you know that breaking into Arkham and executing a patient isn’t the best idea, but it would solve the problem. However, there’s the downside of life in prison for first-degree murder that you’d have to contend with. Bruce would surely visit you, but you don’t want to lose him before you get him back.

Perched on a rooftop, you watch Arkham and hope your trap is being laid as planned. The security lights blink on seconds before the alarm sounds. If Arkham Asylum is good for anything, it’s the consistency of frequent breakouts. No matter who breaks out tonight, you’re prepared. All you have to do is convince them to lay a trap for Joker, convincing him that you killed someone, and then you can pounce. Watching the alley below you, you furrow your brows as you lean forward.

“Catwoman?” you ask incredulously.

She looks up, tilting her head at the sight of you. “Reaper?” she asks, sounding far too excited.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Thieving, I presume?” She nods, and you lower yourself onto a fire escape before jumping to meet her. “There’s nothing here worth stealing.”

“Maybe.”

You clench your hands into fists and look down the alley.

“I think the better question is what are you doing here, Reaper? I’m not exactly in your demographic.”

Under your mask, you press your lips together and consider confiding in her. She cares about Batman as far as you can tell, so if you tell her Joker is planning to kill him (though, in reality, Bruce is his likely target), she may be willing to help.

“Batman dump you? He does that,” Catwoman hums.

“What? No, no, we’re not together like that.”

“Yet,” Catwoman interjects.

“Look, Joker is going to try to kill someone that I love. He’s already ruined my family forever.”

“You just moved here, who could you possibly love here? I thought I fell fast.”

“I grew up here, and-“

Your mind races as you remember that you haven’t been seen with Bruce since returning, but Joker has been out since then. Pulling the earpiece from your pocket, you hope someone is in the Batcave.

“Hello?” you ask into it, desperate and terrified for your family. “Take whatever you want,” you tell Catwoman when you don’t get an answer, “heck, take something for me too. But if you see Batman, tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Sure.” You move toward the end of the alley before Catwoman asks, “What should we call you?”

Smiling, you answer, “Reaper is growing on me.”

“Good luck, Reaper.”

You could have taken a grappling hook before you left Wayne Manor last night, but you were more concerned with Bruce’s safety than yours. Getting off of Arkham Island and into Gotham Heights will take too long on foot.

“Batman?” you ask, trying the comm again. “Anybody?”

“You called?”

You slide to a stop, nearly falling over, when you see Batman perched on a roof, looming like a gargoyle. He spreads his cape as he moves to the road before you. Looking down at you, though you can’t see his eyes, you know he’s trying to ensure you’re safe and unharmed.

“He’s going after Barbara. I thought he meant you, but he was out when I saw Barbara.”

“I’ll call Gordon. We need to get to Gotham Heights.”

“We’ll never make it in time. The alarm sounded twenty minutes ago.”

Bruce’s head turns toward you as he presses a button on his utility belt. The Batmobile turns a corner, coming to a stop beside you. Your eyes widen as the top opens, jumping in the passenger seat as you look at everything in awe.

“Barbara is stronger, and knows more than you think, but she can’t hold him off forever.”

You nod, prepared to do whatever you have to do. Even if it means making Bruce hate you.

“And I forgive you. Whatever you do, I understand,” Bruce says quietly. “Just- just remember that your actions affect more people than just you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s a trap. The driveway beside Barbara’s place is decorated like the cookout where you met Joker.

“Go check on Babs, I’m right behind you,” you tell Batman.

He hesitates, noticing exactly where your focus is, before tapping your shoulder and running toward Barbara’s door. When Batman is out of sight, Joker’s laugh surrounds you.

“Did you do it?” Joker asks, stepping out of the shadows.

“No.”

“Whyever not?” he asks with a laugh.

“Because I’m not a killer. We are not the same.”

“Come over here,” he demands. You listen despite your body’s urging to leave. “And give me a real reason,” he adds when you stop across a picnic table from him.

“That is the real answer. I will not do to another family what you did to mine. I’m not a killer.”

“Now, now, now, that’s not true.”

His eyes are fixed on your mask, likely imagining your furrowed brows and scared eyes. “Is the mask necessary, Reaper? We know one another. It’s just family here.”

You swallow as you rip the mask off, levelling your gaze on Joker, determined not to show him how much he is affecting you.

“If you hurt her, I will end you.”

Joker flaps a dismissive hand. “She’s fine. I just needed a reason to celebrate, but you didn’t keep your end of the bargain.”

“I’m not-“

“A killer, yes, so you say. However, there’s a family out there that begs to differ.”

You lick your lips, unsure how he knows this. The record was redacted and eventually destroyed, so no one outside of your team at the time should know.

Joker’s laugh draws your attention back to him. “You are a killer. Just like me.”

Shaking your head, you flinch when Joker slaps his hands onto the table, leaning forward to get closer to you.

“Joseph,” Joker whispers, smiling widely at your surprised movement.

Someone screams in the distance, and you remember your promise: to protect your home, no matter the cost. Unholstering the gun you hadn’t carried in years, you hold it to Joker’s forehead.

“Do it,” he begs, leaning against the barrel. “Show them how alike we are.”

Your arm shakes as you fight to do it. With a finger on the trigger, Joker should be gone already, but you can’t do it.

Lowering the gun, you sigh, preparing for Joker’s next idea or a surprise dose of his laughing toxin. He watches you until he reaches for something. Before you can lunge forward to stop him, a shot rings out in the Gotham night. You hear it as Joker jerks to the side, slumping to the ground. Turning toward the right, you search the skyline for the shooter. You see a familiar salute and laugh to yourself as the silhouette disappears.

“Reaper!” Batman yells, rushing toward you. He slows as he sees you standing over Joker.

There’s a note, half blown apart. He took credit. You laugh again, oblivious to Batman’s concerned gaze on the back of your head. The laughter quickly turns to hiccups as you fight to remain composed. You walked out of Wayne Manor prepared to assassinate Joker. Now that you have essentially been an accomplice to his death and reminded of your worst mistake, you’re falling apart.

Bruce whispers your name, a hand on your arm as he turns you away. He raises a hand to your jaw as the first tear rolls down your cheek.

“I killed him,” you admit.

“No, you didn’t. That shot was too far away, no one will blame you.”

“I killed Joseph,” you repeat. “I didn’t see him, and there was so much fog and- I shouldn’t have taken the shot.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I left the Army and joined SWAT because I killed a civilian. I don’t know how Joker knew, but he was right. I am a killer.”

“Hey, hey.” When you don’t respond, Batman summons the Batmobile, whispering to Gordon on the phone as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Once you’re in Wayne Manor, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and one of Bruce’s shirts, he pulls you into his arms.

“You’re not like Joker, and you’re not a killer. Friendly fire is a terrible thing, but it’s not your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself for that. Saving people has its costs, and if I could take the guilt from you, I would.”

“I don’t even know how it happened,” you confess, “I dream about it all the time, but I don’t remember actually pulling the trigger.”

“You may never know. But either way, you can forgive yourself and move on.”

Wiping under your eyes, you lean against Bruce’s chest as you ask, “What did Gordon say? How’s Babs?””

“Their ballistics team is examining the velocity and angle to find where the shot came from. Barbara didn’t even know anything was happening, she’s fine.”

“The roof of Verdant in The Narrows,” you whisper, laying an open hand over Bruce’s heart.

“That’s too far for a shot like that.”

“Not for Army snipers.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Used to be,” you shrug before adding, “Lawton started killing for money, and I couldn’t support that.”

“Wait,” Bruce interjects, pushing you back slightly, ducking to look into your eyes. “You’re telling me that Deadshot just killed Joker? For free?”

“He doesn’t do anything for free,” you answer, smiling. “But I didn’t pay him if that’s what you think. Besides, he left a calling card of sorts.”

“Not at all. Batman will call Gordon tomorrow and let him know.”

“What’s Batman doing tonight?”

“He’s on vacation,” Bruce sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. “And Bruce Wayne is catching up with an old friend.”

Smiling, you turn sideways to press your chest against Bruce, laying your arms over his shoulders.

“I think that sounds like a great night.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“I found something,” Bruce says, removing his cowl as you enter the Batcave.

“A life?” you joke.

“Ha. No, I had a friend of mine go searching for that destroyed Army record.”

“Why?” you ask quietly, wringing your fingers together.

“Because you didn’t kill Joseph. Your gun never went off, and the shot came from a different direction with a much higher velocity. This looked like sniper.”

“You think it was Lawton?”

“Wouldn’t be surprising.” Bruce tilts your head toward him and looks you in the eye to add, “But the important thing is that you have no reason to keep carrying that burden.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Come on patrol with me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“You won’t. Not with me around.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Bats.”

“Catwoman,” Batman answers.

“Reaper was looking for you a few nights ago.”

“Yeah, we ran into each other. Thanks, though.”

“She said you weren’t together like we were, but I find that very hard to believe.”

“Give them back,” you say, surprising both Catwoman and Batman.

“Give what back?” she parrots.

You hold your hand out. “The pearl necklace and earrings you stole. They’re not worth anything to the woman, but they’re sentimental.”

Catwoman huffs, pulling a small bag from her pouch and tossing it to you. “I chose them for you anyway.”

“What?”

“You said to steal something for you too.”

“I thought my best friend was about to get murdered, I didn’t mean it!”

“And did you mean what you said about not being with Bats here?” She places a hand on her hip, and you take the opportunity to look at Batman before answering.

“He’s just not my type,” you answer, shrugging one shoulder.

You see his jaw twitch before he nods his farewell to Catwoman.

“I didn’t mean it,” you whisper as you walk past him. “And we’ve got a crocodile to catch.”

Batman sighs. “Welcome to Gotham.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Whose are they?” Bruce asks as you examine the pearl jewellery.

“Mine,” you answer, not looking at him. “What are the chances she’d use my permission to thieve to rob me?”

“Not bad with Sel- Catwoman.”

“Selina Kyle, yeah, I know.”

“Sentimental, huh?”

You turn toward Bruce, passing him the necklace.

“I told your mom that I liked her pearls, like five months before she was killed, and the next day she surprised me. She picked me up from school and told me we were going shopping. They’re the cheapest ones the store had, but I’ve loved them ever since because they came from someone I loved and… I guess they made me feel a bit more like her, and she was amazing.”

When you look back at Bruce, he’s still holding the necklace, but his gaze is on you. He sets the necklace down, stepping toward you. Gripping your waist, he pulls you against him with a wide smile.

“You’re amazing too.”

“Not like her.”

“There’s no one quite like her. But she loved you too, more than you know. Actually, she thought we were going to get married,” Bruce adds, nudging his nose against yours.

“I did too,” you whisper.

Bruce kisses you quickly, pulling back to gauge your reaction.

“Based on the newspapers, I thought you’d be better than that,” you tease.

Bruce clicks his tongue before pulling you into another kiss. While he takes your breath, he fills you with love and hope. His hands keep you as close as possible, one sliding up to hold your head as he deepens the kiss, whispering something against your lips.

“Wait,” you mumble, moving your hands from his jaw to his chest. “What did you say?”

Bruce smirks, the charm that no one gets to see any more on display. “That I love you.”

Your eyes widen, and you grip his shoulders as you rise to kiss him, informing him that you feel the same. “I love you more,” you say against his lips, melting into him as you become one.

“My mom would want you to have her pearls,” Bruce whispers, rubbing his thumb in large sweeping motions against your upper hip. “And she’d want us to see where this goes.”

“Your mom was very smart,” you muse, putty in Bruce’s hands as he moves to the couch, tugging you into his lap.

“Did you love my mom enough to take her last name eventually?”

“This is more important – I love you enough.”

“Finally!” Alfred exclaims as he walks in with a tray of tea and biscuits. “It is about time you officially join the family and take the name.”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x reader #batman fic #bruce wayne fic #dc comics x reader

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reidmarieprentiss · 2 months

Text

Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down

Summary: Reader cheats on her partner, then meets Spencer and strikes up a fwb situationship. He wants more, she won't allow it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+) with plot, angst !!, comfort

Warnings/Includes: reader's sexuality is undefined -- the only partner she has with specified pronouns is spencer, smut (18+) additonal warnings under the cut, fwb, commitment issues, insecure reader, anxiety, (un)requited feelings, reader cheats on her ex, both of them are in love but reader won't admit it, heartbreak, alcohol consumption, supportive team, angry emily prentiss

Word count: 14.8k

a/n: this is so angsty hahah i live for the angst ,, this was also entirely inspired by love you like a sailor by @reidmania pleasee check them out they are one of my favorite authors on this app !!!

main masterlist

Additional warning: oral (m&f receiving), fingering, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), nipple play, slight sub Spencer, mild choking, pet names

Y/N stirred awake, blinking against the unfamiliar light streaming through the thin curtains of her new apartment. The ceiling above her was stark white, a blank canvas that mirrored her current state of mind. Disoriented, she tried to gather her thoughts, but they scattered like leaves in the wind. It had only been a week since her partner had thrown her out, and the reality of her new life was still sinking in.

She sat up in her new bed, the wrought-iron frame creaking beneath her. The intricate designs on the bed's soft cream paint seemed almost out of place in this fresh start, a relic of a life she was trying to leave behind.

The room was sparsely furnished, just a few essentials she had managed to gather in the short time since she had left. The large windows behind her bed let in plenty of natural light, giving the room a bright and airy feel. The wooden plank floor gave the room a warm and rustic touch, grounding her in this new reality.

Y/N sighed, pushing aside the bedding and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The cold floor was a stark reminder of her new circumstances. She needed to start her day, to find some semblance of routine in this new, chaotic chapter of her life. She padded over to the bathroom, still not used to the cold floor on her once warm feet. Turning on the shower, she stepped in, letting the warm water cascade over her.

As the water washed over her, she couldn’t help but think back to that night. It was a night like any other: her partner was away on another work trip, leaving Y/N alone once again. The loneliness was suffocating, and she had gone out with friends, desperate for some semblance of normalcy and connection. The bar was lively, filled with laughter and chatter that provided a temporary escape from her solitude.

Then she met them—a charming stranger who paid her the kind of attention she had been starved of for so long. Their eyes never left hers, and their words were filled with warmth and interest. She felt seen, heard, and wanted. In that moment of weakness, she indulged. Their conversation turned into a night together, a decision she regretted the moment the sun began to rise.

Y/N shook off the memory and leaned her head against the cool tiles. She missed her partner, missed the life they had built together. The friends they once shared that her partner got in the breakup. The shower was her sanctuary, a place where she could let her emotions flow freely. Tears mingled with the water as she stood there, trying to wash away the guilt and the regret. But no matter how much she scrubbed, the weight of her actions remained.

The argument had escalated quickly, emotions running high. Y/N’s pleas for understanding were met with cold rejection. In the end, she was left standing alone, her partner’s words echoing in her mind: “I want you out. I’ll be home by the end of the week, you need to be gone by then.”

With a deep breath, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. Today was a new day, and she had to find a way to move forward, no matter how daunting it seemed.

—

Sitting in her cubicle one month later, Y/N was absorbed in her work when a familiar head of hair popped over the top. It was Alice.

"Hi, Y/N!" Alice greeted with her usual enthusiasm.

"Hi, Alice. How are you?" Y/N responded, slightly taken aback by the unexpected visit.

"I'm good! I was wondering if you had any plans tonight?"

Y/N was a little confused. She didn’t have any plans, but she had also never been invited to hang out by anyone from work before. They were all a bit clique-y. And while Alice had always been very sweet, she herself had her own group with Charlie and Taylor.

"Uh, no. No, I don’t. What's up?" Y/N asked, trying to mask her surprise.

"Well… Charlie, Taylor, and I are going to get drinks tonight at The Thirsty Felon. Would you want to come with us?"

"Oh, sure. Thank you for the invite," Y/N replied, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement.

"Great! We’ll see you there at 7," Alice said with a bright smile before disappearing back over the cubicle wall.

Y/N sat back in her chair, processing the unexpected invitation. Maybe, she thought, this could be a step towards making new friends and finding a new sense of belonging. For the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of hope.

—

Spencer sat at the bar, visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room. He leaned closer to JJ, who was sipping her drink and looking far more relaxed than he felt.

"JJ, you dragged me out to a bar called The Thirsty Felon. I could be at home watching the new Doctor Who episode," Spencer complained, his voice tinged with frustration. "Do you even know what we do for a living?"

JJ chuckled and shook her head. "Spence, you need to get out more. It's just a bar. Besides, you can't spend every night at home watching TV. You need to socialize a bit."

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I socialize plenty... at work."

JJ gave him a sympathetic look. "Look, I know it's not your scene, but sometimes it's good to step out of your comfort zone. You might actually have fun."

Spencer raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't argue further. As he took a reluctant sip of his drink, he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about being in such an unfamiliar setting.

The Thirsty Felon was a typical dive bar, with its worn pool tables under vintage Coors lamps and a jukebox that Penelope was enthusiastically feeding quarters into. Morgan and Emily were at one of the pool tables, engaged in a friendly yet competitive game. The walls were adorned with retro beer signs, and the air was filled with a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and classic rock tunes.

Despite the casual and lively atmosphere, Spencer felt out of place. He watched as Morgan took a shot, sinking a ball into the corner pocket, and Emily clapped in appreciation. Penelope, meanwhile, was bouncing slightly to the beat of the music she had just selected, her face lit up with a bright smile.

JJ nudged Spencer, drawing his attention back to her. "Come on, Spence. Just relax and try to have a good time. We're all here together, and that's what matters."

Spencer managed a small smile, appreciating JJ's effort to include him. "Alright, I'll try," he conceded, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd rather be home with his favorite TV show.

—

Y/N sat in a booth with her coworkers, Alice, Charlie, and Taylor. They were clearly close friends, sharing inside jokes and laughing heartily. Y/N tried to listen and catch on, but it was difficult when they basically had their own language. She felt like an outsider, longing to be part of their camaraderie but unsure how to break in. After a while, she excused herself to go get another drink at the bar, hoping a moment alone might help her gather her thoughts.

As she approached the bar, she found herself standing next to a man who seemed equally out of place. Spencer Reid sat there, looking around nervously. JJ had just left to dance by the jukebox after being dragged over by Penelope, leaving Spencer all by himself. When he felt the presence of someone next to him, he turned, expecting it to be JJ.

“About time you came back, I was getting ready to—” he began, his expression softening as he saw Y/N instead.

“To what?” Y/N asked, curiosity piqued.

“Leave,” Spencer finished, somewhat sheepishly.

“Oh, well, don't let me stop you. I wouldn't mind leaving myself,” Y/N admitted with a hint of a smile.

“Not having fun?” Spencer asked, sensing a kindred spirit.

“More like witnessing others have fun and not knowing how to join,” Y/N said, her eyes reflecting a mix of longing and isolation.

“I… completely understand what you mean. I just haven’t been able to explain it before,” Spencer replied, offering her a kind smile. “I’m Spencer.”

“Y/N,” she responded, her tone unintentionally cold. She didn’t feel that she was worthy of the time of someone who looked so sweet, not after what she did.

Spencer, however, seemed undeterred by her tone. He saw something in her eyes that mirrored his own feelings of displacement. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said sincerely.

She nodded, knowing he wouldn’t think that if he knew. Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything as the bartender came over and took her order. However, when she went to pay, Spencer cut her off.

“I got it, you can put it on my tab, R-e-i-d,” he spelled out for the bartender.

“Oh no, I can’t let you do that. That's too nice,” Y/N protested, feeling guilty.

“It’s my pleasure. I hope your night gets better,” Spencer said with a gentle smile.

“Uh, yeah, thank you. You too,” she replied, her voice softer now.

As she turned around to leave the bar with her drink, Y/N noticed her coworkers stumbling out of the bar in a pile of giggles. They obviously forgot in their drunken states that they had a fourth party with them. With a big sigh, Y/N turned back around and sat in the seat next to Spencer at the bar.

“Back so soon?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“My group just left,” she explained, a touch of frustration in her voice.

“Without you?” Spencer asked, clearly surprised.

“It would appear so,” Y/N confirmed, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. If you don't mind me saying so, they don't sound like very good friends,” Spencer said, his brow furrowing in concern.

“No, that's fine. They’re just my coworkers,” Y/N clarified, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well, that's good, I suppose. Um, I’m here with my coworkers too if you want to stay with us,” Spencer offered, his voice filled with genuine kindness.

Y/N knew she shouldn’t accept such a kind offer, but he was just so pretty with his big, hopeful brown eyes, and pushed back, silky hair, and god, those adorable glasses.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” she managed a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Spencer and Y/N chatted for a while, their conversation flowing effortlessly. After some time, Y/N started to get antsy and asked, “Do you want to play pool?”

Spencer hesitated. He knew he wasn’t good at pool, but he agreed anyway because he’d never had a girl talk to him for this long outside of work or school. “Sure, why not,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

As they approached the pool table, they found Derek and Emily still playing. Derek raised an eyebrow at Spencer, smirking knowingly.

“Since when do you play pool, Pretty Boy?” Derek teased.

“Shut up,” Spencer mumbled, his face flushing slightly as Derek laughed and patted him on the back.

Derek then leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Maybe you can get her to show you some moves.”

Spencer blushed profusely and shoved him away with a bashful smile. When he turned back, he saw Y/N racking the balls, her face in pure concentration. He found himself captivated by the sexy way she bit her tongue and furrowed her brow. Then she looked up and caught him staring. Shit.

Much to his relief, she didn’t say anything, just walked over to the cue sticks, turning them before finding the one she wanted. “Do you want to break, or me?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Uh, you, can you?” Spencer replied, a bit flustered.

Y/N nodded, smiling a bit as she realized Spencer must not have a lot of experience with pool. She lined up her shot, her movements fluid and confident. With a sharp crack, the balls scattered across the table, and she looked up at Spencer with a triumphant grin. He felt his pants get tighter and his IQ drop a significant amount.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him a cue stick.

Spencer took the stick and approached the table, trying to mimic her stance. He took a shot, but the cue ball barely nudged another ball.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said encouragingly. “Just take your time.”

As they continued playing, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how patient and kind Y/N was. Despite his lack of skill, she never made him feel embarrassed. Instead, she offered tips and gentle corrections, making the game more enjoyable.

At some point, after a few drinks, Y/N boldly stepped behind Spencer and put her hands on his hips, angling them before leaving one hand on his hip and placing the other on his back to bend him just so. Spencer was sure he was flushed head to toe, his mind reeling. He liked that she was manhandling him. And in public, no less.

Derek and Emily’s mouths were open, watching the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and amusement. Y/N then leaned forward and traced her hand down Spencer's arm, showing him how to hold the cue stick properly. Her touch was firm yet gentle, and Spencer's heart raced.

“Breathe in and out with me,” she instructed softly. Spencer focused on matching her breaths, trying to calm his nerves. When he finally took the shot, the ball rolled smoothly and made it into the pocket.

Spencer was so excited that he turned around without thinking and kissed Y/N.

The kiss was quick, a spontaneous burst of joy, but it sent a jolt of electricity through both of them. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and Spencer immediately stepped back, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Spencer stammered, mortified.

Y/N blinked, then schooled her features. “Uh, it’s fine,” she said somewhat distantly, her pink cheeks the only thing giving her away.

“I don’t know what came over me, I’ve never done something like that before. You’re just so pretty and helpful—I—I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s fine. Let’s just finish the game,” she replied, trying to move past the awkward moment.

So they did, albeit a bit awkwardly. After Y/N sunk the 8-ball, she looked to Spencer to say goodnight.

“Wait, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I’m really sorry if I ruined things or made you feel uncomfortable,” he said, taking a stabilizing breath. “But I had a lot of fun tonight, and I would love to see you again.”

“Spencer…”

“Oh, okay. You’re not interested, that’s okay,” he said quickly, his face falling.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—I don’t really date,” she admitted, leaving out the part about her past relationship.

“Oh.”

“But if you wanted something casual, no strings attached, I could do that,” she offered.

“Oh, wow, okay, um, like sex?” he squeaked out, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yes, Spencer, like sex,” she confirmed, her tone gentle.

“I mean, I’ve never had sex with someone I wasn’t dating before…”

“It’s okay, Spencer. It was just a suggestion. Goodnight,” she said, turning to leave.

“No!” Spencer blurted out, making Y/N turn back again.

“Can I at least get your number? So I can think about it?” he asked, his voice earnest.

Y/N smiled, feeling a bit of warmth spread through her. “Yeah, of course.” She took a napkin from the bar and scribbled her number on it, handing it to him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, holding the napkin like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, giving him one last smile before heading out.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, watching her leave.

As Y/N walked away, Spencer stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He was still holding the napkin with her number on it, almost in disbelief.

“Did you just get her number, Pretty Boy?” Derek asked, sidling up next to him with a wide grin.

“Yeah, I did,” Spencer breathed, still somewhat dazed, leaving out the part about how and why he got her number.

“My man!” Derek exclaimed, clapping Spencer on the back with a hearty laugh. “Look at you, getting numbers and making moves!”

Spencer chuckled nervously, tucking the napkin safely into his pocket. “Thanks, Derek. It was... unexpected.”

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Well, you never know where things might lead. Just take it one step at a time.”

Spencer nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. He had a lot to think about, but for now, he was just happy to have made a connection with someone new. As he and Derek rejoined the group, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement about what might come next.

—

Spencer did think about Y/N’s offer, but the BAU got called away on back-to-back cases, leaving him with little time to make a decision. Meanwhile, Y/N assumed he just didn’t want to turn her down outright and accepted that she wasn’t going to hear from him.

Three weeks after the night at the bar, Y/N received a text from an unknown number. Since she didn’t recognize it, she ignored it while she was at work. It wasn’t until later that evening, with a glass of wine in hand, that Y/N was scrolling through her phone and remembered the text. She opened it up to see a message from Spencer.

Hey Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. I got really busy with work. I’d like to take you up on your offer.

Y/N felt her pulse pick up, not believing what she was seeing. Good things didn’t happen to her anymore, not like this. Karma’s a bitch and all that. Still, she couldn’t refrain from teasing him.

Sorry… who is this?

There was a pause, and then her phone buzzed again.

It’s Spencer. From the bar? With the pool game?

She chuckled, enjoying the moment.

Ohhh, right. The guy who needed help shooting pool. Got it.

Yes, that’s me. So, about your offer…

Y/N took a sip of her wine, her mind racing. She hadn't expected to hear from him, but now that she had, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. She typed back quickly.

You still interested in something casual?

Yes, I am. If the offer still stands.

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. Maybe good things could still happen, even if it only lasts for a little while.

It stands. When are you free?

I’m free this weekend. How about Saturday?

Saturday works. Let’s meet at your place around 7?

Y/N was nervous he wouldn’t want her to come over to his place, but she had decided not to allow anyone into her new apartment. She wanted to keep it just for herself, not wanting anyone to witness the vulnerability that comes with seeing someone's living space.

Sounds perfect. Looking forward to it.

She set her phone down after Spencer sent his address, her heart racing with anticipation. She had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of excitement.

—

The days leading up to Saturday passed in a blur of nerves and anticipation. Y/N spent extra time planning what to wear, what to say, and how to handle the evening. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be the start of something significant, even if it was meant to be casual. She wasn’t going to let herself get attached, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy herself.

When Saturday evening arrived, Y/N found herself standing outside Spencer’s apartment door at precisely 7 PM. She took a deep breath and knocked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Spencer opened the door almost immediately, looking slightly nervous but with a warm smile on his face. “Hey, Y/N. Come in.”

“Thanks,” she said, stepping inside. His apartment was neat and organized, except for the stacks of books covering pretty much every surface. It felt welcoming, and she relaxed a little.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Spencer said, leading her to the living room where a bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting on the coffee table.

“Yup,” Y/N replied, glancing around at the books and knick-knacks that lined the shelves. The apartment felt cozy and lived-in.

Spencer poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to her. “I hope you like red,” he said, extending a glass to Y/N.

“Uh, yeah, I do, thanks.” Y/N accepted the glass and, feeling a sudden rush of nerves, downed it all in one go.

“Oh, good. Would you like some more?” Spencer asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, that would be great,” she replied. He poured her another glass, and she immediately downed it as well.

Spencer watched her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, then took a step closer to him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Already? I thought we could talk for a little bit,” Spencer said quietly, his voice gentle.

“I don’t really want to talk. I want to fuck,” Y/N said bluntly, her eyes locking onto his.

Spencer was taken aback by her bold words, but he supposed that was what their arrangement was supposed to be. He took a moment to gather himself, then nodded. “Okay.”

Y/N closed the distance between them, her hands reaching up to cup his face as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was urgent, almost desperate, and Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding her waist.

The intensity of the moment took over, and soon they were moving together towards the bedroom. Spencer tried to keep his thoughts in order, but the feeling of Y/N’s body against his was overwhelming. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

As they reached the bed, Y/N pulled back for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Spencer nodded, his heart racing. “Yes, I’m sure. I want this too.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. She dropped to her knees in front of him.

Spencer let out a surprised gasp, not expecting things to move so quickly. Y/N immediately began unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down with practiced ease. Once they were around his ankles, he kicked them off, following her motions in a haze.

Y/N brought her hand up to palm over Spencer’s cock to make sure he was ready. His breath hitched at the sensation.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Just Y/N,” she corrected, her tone firm yet teasing.

“Ungh,” Spencer groaned as Y/N licked above his waistband before dipping her fingers in and pulling off the last barrier.

The intensity of the moment left Spencer almost dizzy with desire. He couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated, but he was too caught up in the sensations to overthink it. Y/N’s touch was electrifying, every movement sending waves of pleasure through him.

As Y/N continued licking her path downward, Spencer felt himself shaking in anticipation.

Finally, Y/N licked Spencer's cock from root to tip and sucked him all the way down in one go. Spencer moaned wildly, not knowing what to do with his hands. He ended up tangling them in his own hair and pulling, the overwhelming sensations nearly too much to bear. Y/N didn't notice, and if she did, she didn't care. She bobbed her head and swirled her tongue around his length as a penance for all the wrong she’d done. This was her apology for not going on a date with him.

Her hand came up to cup his balls next, rolling them in her hand. Spencer had never had anyone touch his balls before. He tensed up and came in her mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice shaky with a mix of embarrassment and relief.

Y/N pulled off and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, having swallowed during the surprise. “It's okay, Spencer. That’s kind of what I’m here for,” she chuckled softly, trying to ease his tension.

“But you didn’t get to… you know,” he stammered, feeling a twinge of guilt.

“Cum? It's just us, you can say it,” she replied, her eyes softening.

“You didn’t get to cum,” he repeated, the words feeling foreign yet necessary.

“I don’t need to,” Y/N said, her smile reassuring. She reached out and touched his arm gently. “We can try another time.”

Spencer looked at her, still catching his breath, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, appreciating her more than he could express.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Can I use your bathroom? I’d like to clean up before I go home.”

“Huh? Yeah, it's down the hall to the right,” he replied, feeling a pang of dejection. “You’re going home already?”

“Spencer… this is just sex, nothing more. I thought you knew that,” Y/N said gently, trying to manage his expectations.

Spencer’s face fell, but he nodded in understanding. “I know, I just… I thought maybe we could talk after.”

Y/N sighed softly, feeling a mix of guilt and regret. “I don’t really do that. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer said quickly, trying to hide his disappointment. “I understand.”

Y/N gave him a small, sad smile before heading to the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, Spencer pulled his briefs on and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind racing. He had known what the arrangement was, but he couldn’t help the flicker of hope that had ignited within him.

When Y/N returned, she looked more composed. “Thank you for tonight, Spencer. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, forcing a smile. “Thank you too.”

She nodded, grabbing her things. “Take care, okay?”

“You too,” he replied, watching as she left his apartment. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Spencer alone in the quiet room.

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The night had been incredible, but now he felt a strange emptiness. He knew he had to respect her boundaries, but part of him couldn’t help but wish for more.

—

Meanwhile, Y/N was having similar feelings as she made her way home. She had wanted to stay. She wanted to talk to Spencer about anything and everything, to learn all that there was to know about him. The connection she felt was undeniable, and she found herself longing for more than just the physical intimacy they shared.

But she knew that neither of them deserved that. She didn’t deserve someone as good-hearted as Spencer, and Spencer didn’t deserve someone who had cheated on their partner. The weight of her past mistakes bore heavily on her, and she couldn't bring herself to believe she was worthy of someone like him.

As she drove through the quiet streets, Y/N’s mind was filled with thoughts of Spencer. She remembered the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his interests, the way he smiled shyly, and the gentleness in his touch.

When she finally reached her apartment, she sank onto the couch, her thoughts still racing. She poured herself a glass of wine, hoping it would calm her nerves, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside her.

Y/N knew she needed to protect Spencer, and to keep the walls up around herself to avoid hurting someone again. But part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to let those walls down, to let someone like Spencer in.

As she sipped her wine, she made a silent vow to herself. She would keep her distance, for both their sakes. She would respect the boundaries they had set and try to move forward without letting her feelings get in the way.

But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

—

“Uhhhh, oh god Spencer! Oh please!” Y/N moaned, her voice filled with desperation.

Spencer hummed around her clit, the vibration adding an extra layer of sensation that sent shivers through her body. He increased the speed of his fingers, his movements precise and deliberate inside her, driving her closer to the edge.

Y/N's hands gripped the sheets tightly, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her. “Spencer, I’m so close,” she gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

Spencer didn’t let up, his focus entirely on her. He wanted to give her everything she needed, to make her feel as good as she had made him feel. He could feel her tensing around his fingers, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending release.

He released her clit from between his lips, licking down through her lips and laying his tongue flat before shaking his head back and forth rapidly. Y/N screamed in pleasure, feeling the friction of Spencer’s glasses brushing against her inner thighs. She had selfishly asked him to keep them on during their time together because he looked so sexy and nerdy, it turned her on to no end.

Spencer thought her scream was out of pain, and he went to pull back, worried he had hurt her. But Y/N, right on the edge, quickly put her hands in his hair and held his face to her core, guiding him back into place. Spencer moaned into her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure, and resumed his actions with renewed fervor.

Y/N's grip tightened in his hair as she felt herself teetering on the brink of ecstasy. Spencer’s relentless movements, combined with the sensation of his glasses against her skin, drove her wild. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, and she could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

With one final deep suck and push of his fingers he tipped her over the edge. Y/N cried out, her body convulsing as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Spencer continued to move his fingers gently, prolonging her pleasure until she was completely spent.

As she came down from her high, Y/N looked at Spencer with a mix of awe and gratitude. “That was… something,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“Something?” Spencer laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, still catching her breath.

“Forget your words there?” he teased gently.

“Brain no work, can't think,” she replied, managing a small smile.

Spencer moved up beside her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll give you a second,” he said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Don’t do that,” Y/N said suddenly, her voice more serious.

“Do what?” Spencer asked, pulling back, concern etched on his face.

“Don’t kiss my forehead. That’s too intimate,” she explained, trying to maintain the boundaries she had set.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, his expression falling slightly.

“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling a pang of regret. Now there was an awkward tension in the air.

“I’m gonna go pee,” Y/N said, needing a moment to herself.

When Y/N came back from the bathroom, Spencer was sitting on the bed in his briefs, no longer hard. He looked up as she entered, his face a mix of confusion and uncertainty.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment,” Y/N said, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Spencer replied, looking down at his hands.

“Actually, I was thinking—we probably shouldn’t kiss at all. Not even on the lips, just to make sure we don’t blur any lines,” Y/N suggested, trying to establish clearer boundaries.

“Oh.” Spencer stared at the floor, processing her words. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Y/N could see the disappointment in his eyes, and it hurt her more than she wanted to admit. She took a deep breath and sat down next to him, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. “Spencer, I really do appreciate you. I just need to keep things simple.”

Spencer nodded, forcing a small smile. “I understand. We’ll keep it simple.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, her heart heavy with the unspoken emotions between them. They had agreed to something casual, but the reality of maintaining that distance was proving to be more challenging than either of them had anticipated.

—

Y/N and Spencer continued their arrangement for about six weeks with no hiccups. It was easier to avoid wanting to hang out when Spencer was frequently gone on cases. Though it did remind Y/N of her last partner and why it didn’t work, only reaffirming why she and Spencer could never be together. She had no trust in herself anymore, so why should anyone else?

There was a dinner party at Rossi’s coming up that weekend, and Spencer really wanted to bring Y/N. Not only because he really liked her, despite saying he was okay with keeping it casual, but because the team kind of assumed they were dating.

He never told them they were dating, but he also didn’t correct their assumptions. Most of them were there to witness the night he met Y/N and to see her give him her number. They knew he texted her, and they also knew he had a special shine to him nowadays, so they put two and two together. Spencer wasn’t comfortable telling them the truth.

So, he called Y/N when he got back from his most recent case and asked.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer,” he started, trying to keep his nerves in check.

“Hey, Spencer. How are you?” Y/N replied, her voice warm.

“I’m good, thanks. I was wondering if you’re free this weekend,” he said, getting straight to the point.

“This weekend?” Y/N repeated, a hint of hesitation in her voice. “I think so. Why?”

“Well, there’s a dinner party at my coworker Rossi’s, and I was hoping you’d come with me,” Spencer said, his heart pounding.

“A dinner party?” Y/N asked, clearly surprised. “Spencer, you know we agreed to keep things casual.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But I have to go, and... the team kind of assumes we’re dating.”

“You didn’t tell them the truth?” Y/N asked, a bit incredulous.

Spencer sighed. “I know I should have, but it’s complicated. They saw us together, and they’ve noticed a change in me, they’re all profiles, you know. I just... didn’t correct their assumptions, I don’t really need them knowing what I get up to on my own time.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, thinking. “Spencer, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Just this once. It would mean a lot to me.”

She sighed, feeling torn. She didn’t want to complicate things further, but she also didn’t want to disappoint him. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said finally.

“Really?” Spencer’s voice lit up with relief and excitement. “Thank you, Y/N. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I hope so,” she said with a small smile. “I’ll see you this weekend then.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

As they hung up, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and dread. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake, but for now, she would try to focus on enjoying the evening and supporting Spencer.

—

Saturday evening arrived, and Spencer picked Y/N up in his Volkswagen. She thought it was a very fitting car for him—practical, unassuming, yet with a certain charm.

As they drove to Rossi’s, the air was filled with a mix of anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Y/N turned to Spencer, deciding to break the silence. “So, how do you want me to behave tonight?”

Spencer glanced at her, a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, playing with the hem of her dress, “how would you want your girlfriend to act? I mean, if I’m going to pretend to be your girlfriend, I should know what you expect.”

Spencer smiled, touched by her consideration. “Just be yourself, Y/N. I like you for who you are.”

She nodded, but inside, she felt a flutter of excitement. The prospect of acting like she was in a relationship, even if just for one evening, was thrilling. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to feel close to someone.

“Okay, but... should I hold your hand? Stand close to you?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Sure, if that makes you comfortable. I don’t have any specific expectations.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Alright. Just let me know if I do anything that feels too... girlfriend-y.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

They arrived at Rossi’s house, which was already bustling with the team and a few other guests. Spencer parked the car and turned to Y/N. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, taking a deep breath.

They walked up to the door, and Spencer rang the bell. Within moments, Rossi opened it, greeting them with a warm smile. “Spencer! And you must be Y/N. Come on in, everyone’s excited to meet you.”

Y/N gave him a polite smile and followed Spencer inside. The house was warm and inviting, filled with the sound of laughter and conversation. As they stepped into the living room, the rest of the team turned to greet them.

“Hey, Spencer! Y/N!” JJ called out, waving them over.

Y/N smiled nervously and followed Spencer’s lead. He gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they approached the group.

“So, this is the famous Y/N we’ve heard so much about,” Derek said, giving her a friendly smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Y/N replied, feeling a bit more at ease.

As the night progressed, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Spencer, feeling a mix of gratitude and something deeper she wasn’t ready to name. For now, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment, savoring the warmth of the evening and the connection she felt with Spencer, even if it was just pretend.

—

The evening was in full swing, with everyone mingling and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Y/N was feeling more comfortable as the night went on, especially with Spencer by her side. She had been sipping on champagne, the bubbles making her feel pleasantly lightheaded.

Just as she was starting to relax completely, the girls—JJ, Penelope, and Emily—approached with mischievous smiles.

“Mind if we steal Y/N for a bit, Spencer?” Penelope asked, already linking her arm through Y/N’s.

Spencer tried to playfully protest, but there was a genuine reluctance in his voice. “Hey, don’t take her away! We were having a good time.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll bring her back in one piece,” Emily teased, winking at Y/N.

Y/N laughed, letting herself be pulled away, though she cast a reassuring glance back at Spencer. He smiled, but the look in his eyes showed he wasn’t entirely pleased with being separated from her.

The girls led Y/N to a quieter corner of the room, where they settled into a small circle. Penelope handed her another glass of champagne, and Y/N accepted it gratefully.

“Alright, spill,” JJ said with a grin. “We want to know everything about you and Spencer.”

Y/N smiled nervously, taking a sip of her drink to buy herself some time. She knew she had to be careful with her answers, especially with the champagne making her feel more talkative than usual.

“Yeah, like how did you two meet?” Emily asked, leaning in eagerly.

“Well, we met at the bar,” Y/N began, sticking to the truth. “He was nice when my coworkers ditched me. We just... hit it off.”

“And what’s it like dating Spencer Reid?” Penelope asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Y/N laughed softly. “He’s sweet. So smart and kind. He really listens, you know?”

JJ nodded approvingly. “He’s definitely a good guy. How long have you been together?”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now,” she said, which was technically true.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s he like outside of work? We only get to see the genius profiler side of him.”

“He’s really fun,” Y/N said, smiling at the thought of Spencer. “He loves talking about all kinds of things—books, history, science. It’s fascinating to be around him.”

Penelope leaned in closer. “And how’s the romance department? He’s a total gentleman, isn’t he?”

Y/N blushed, trying to keep her composure. “Yes, he’s very respectful and caring,” she said, avoiding any details that might hint at the true nature of their relationship.

The girls continued to pepper her with questions, and Y/N answered each one honestly but carefully, ensuring she didn’t reveal anything that would give away their arrangement. Despite the slightly nerve-wracking interrogation, she found herself enjoying their company.

Meanwhile, Spencer watched from across the room, trying to hide his anxiety. He trusted Y/N, but he couldn’t help but worry about what she might say under the influence of champagne.

After what felt like an eternity, the girls finally let Y/N go. She made her way back to Spencer, a smile on her lips and a lightness in her step.

“Did you survive the inquisition?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of distress.

“I did,” Y/N said with a laugh. “They’re just curious about us. I think I handled it okay.”

Spencer smiled, relieved. “Thanks for putting up with them.”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, feeling a warm glow from his praise. “Actually, it was kind of nice to talk to them. It’s been a while since I had friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer said, his expression softening with sympathy. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Y/N nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah, it felt good to be part of a group again. They’re really nice.”

“They are,” Spencer agreed. “They’ve been my family for a long time.”

Y/N looked at him, appreciating his openness. “Thanks for including me tonight. I know it wasn’t part of our original arrangement.”

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. “I wanted you here. You mean a lot to me, Y/N. More than just... well, you know.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She knew their relationship was supposed to be casual, but moments like this made it hard to maintain that boundary. “Spencer…” she said softly.

“I know, I know… I just wanted you to know,” he replied, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Okay, thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment, the party continuing around them, but in their own little bubble, everything else seemed to fade away.

“Do you want to stay a bit longer, or are you ready to head out?” Spencer asked, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

“I’m ready to go,” Y/N said, her voice steady but her heart racing. “But let’s not rush.”

Spencer nodded, understanding the unspoken words between them. They said their goodbyes to the team, who were all smiles and warm farewells, and made their way out to the car.

Once they were on the road, in the seclusion of the dark, empty road, Y/N reached over to put her hand on Spencer’s thigh. She was determined to show him just how grateful she was for tonight.

Spencer tensed slightly at the unexpected touch but quickly relaxed, his eyes flicking to her hand and then back to the road. “Y/N…” he started, but she shushed him gently.

“Just drive,” she whispered, her fingers tracing slow circles on his thigh.

The tension in the car shifted, becoming charged with unspoken desire. Spencer’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he focused on the road ahead, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Y/N leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “I want to thank you properly for tonight,” she murmured, her hand moving a little higher.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet tender. “You’ve been so good to me, Spencer. Let me do this.”

He nodded, unable to find the words to refuse her. Y/N quickly worked open his belt and pants, pushing her hand inside his briefs. She stroked his cock, feeling him harden quickly in her hand.

“Y/N, god,” he groaned, his voice trembling.

“Feel good, Spence?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

That was the first time she’d called him anything other than Spencer, and it made his stomach tighten with want. Even more so as she unbuckled her seatbelt to lean over and take his head inside her mouth.

Spencer let out a strangled moan, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as she moved. The sensation of her lips and tongue on him was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his focus on the road.

“Y/N... oh god,” he managed to gasp, his body trembling with pleasure.

She continued her ministrations, her mouth working him expertly. The combination of her touch and the thrill of their public setting sent waves of pleasure through him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, and it was taking all his willpower not to lose control completely.

“Please, Y/N... I’m so close,” he panted, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel so hard.

Y/N hummed around his cock, the vibration pushing him even closer to the brink.

“Already, Spencer?” Y/N teased, her voice a playful whisper in the darkness.

“Your mouth feels so good, I can’t help it,” he panted, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Okay, you deserve it. You’ve been such a good boy.”

“Oh my god!!” Spencer thrust his hips up as soon as she wrapped her lips around his tip and he came. He didn’t know he would have that reaction to being called a good boy.

“Aww, did you like that? Do you want to be my good boy?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“Y/N… don’t tease me,” he pleaded, his voice strained with desire.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughed softly and tucked him back in his pants before fixing them up.

Spencer reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her smile widening. “Now, let’s get you home.”

They resumed their drive, the air between them charged with a new level of intimacy. Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, his heart swelling with affection and something deeper he was hesitant to name.

As they pulled up to her apartment, Spencer parked the car and turned to Y/N. “Thank you for tonight. It meant a lot to me,” he said softly.

“I’m glad, thank you for bringing me,” Y/N replied, her eyes reflecting the same unspoken emotions.

They shared a lingering look before Y/N got out of the car. As she walked to her door, she looked back and gave Spencer a final wave. He watched her go, feeling a warmth in his chest that he knew was more than just physical satisfaction.

As he drove home, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that their relationship was evolving into something more. And for the first time, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make it work.

—

One day, Y/N asked Spencer if he was free, hoping they could spend some time together outside their usual arrangement. Spencer regrettably had to say no; he had already made plans with Derek.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I have plans with Derek tonight,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

Y/N brushed it off with a casual smile. “No big deal, Spencer. Maybe another time.”

But inside, she felt a pang of hurt. It was silly, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling rejected. Spencer hated that the first time Y/N had tried to initiate something more, he had to say no. He hoped she wasn’t too upset, but he tried not to let it show when he was hanging out with Derek. But of course, Derek noticed.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what’s up? You’ve been off all night,” Derek asked, giving Spencer a concerned look.

Spencer sighed, realizing he couldn’t hide his feelings any longer. “It’s Y/N,” he admitted. “I feel like it’s gone too far. I’ve developed serious feelings for her, and I know I have to confess or end it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were dating her?” Derek asked, looking genuinely confused.

Spencer shook his head, feeling a mix of frustration and sorrow. “No, we’re not really dating. We agreed to keep things casual, but… I can’t do it anymore. It’s too hard.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so all this time you’ve just been casually seeing each other?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to complicate things, but now it’s already complicated. I don’t know what to do.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, first off, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself. And this way, you’ll know how she feels too.”

Spencer looked at Derek, his expression filled with uncertainty. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Derek gave him a reassuring smile. “You won’t know until you ask. But from what I saw at the dinner party, she’s definitely into you. All the girls swooned over your relationship. A room full of profilers couldn’t tell that you two weren’t in love.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Derek confirmed. “You should have seen the way she looked at you. She’s got it bad, Reid.”

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thanks, Derek. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, man,” Derek said, clapping him on the back. “Just go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Spencer nodded, determination settling in his chest. He knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Y/N and let her know how he felt. And he hoped, with all his heart, that she felt the same way.

—

The next day, Spencer called Y/N and asked if they could meet up. There was something important he needed to talk to her about.

“Sure, Spencer. What’s up?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I’ll tell you when we meet,” he said, his voice serious.

“Okay, why don’t you come over?” Y/N suggested.

“To your place?” Spencer asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

“Okay, yeah,” he agreed, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

Spencer couldn’t believe Y/N was inviting him over. He had never been to her apartment before. All of their meetups had been at his place, and she had never explained why. He assumed it was another way to keep her distance, but now she was asking him to come over. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she did share his feelings.

As he made his way to her apartment, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of what he would say. He felt a mixture of nervousness and hope, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he arrived, Y/N was waiting at the door, a small, nervous smile on her face. “Hi, Spencer. Come in.”

“Hi,” he replied, stepping inside. He looked around, taking in the cozy, inviting space. It felt like a glimpse into a part of her life she had kept hidden from him.

“Nice place,” Spencer said, trying to ease the tension.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, closing the door behind him. She couldn’t believe she had invited him over. She didn’t know what she was thinking. This was her space, her private, intimate space. Once he saw it, he’d know more about her. He’d see pictures of her family, he’d get to meet her cat, he’d probably ascertain her favorite flowers and colors based on her decorations.

Spencer took in the surroundings, his eyes scanning the living room. The sunlight streamed through large windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy, eclectic space. The room was filled with a mix of bright colors and soft textures, creating a welcoming atmosphere. A large plant stood in the corner, its broad leaves adding a touch of greenery to the room.

He noticed the bookshelf filled with a variety of books and knick-knacks, hinting at her diverse interests. The walls were adorned with framed photos and artwork, providing glimpses into her life and memories. He saw pictures of Y/N with what he assumed were her family and old friends, all smiling and happy.

As they moved further inside, a fluffy cat with a patchwork of colors trotted over, rubbing against Y/N’s leg before giving Spencer a curious look. “This is Muffin,” she said, bending down to scratch the cat behind the ears.

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. “Hi, Muffin,” he greeted, crouching down to pet the cat, who purred in response.

He stood up and continued to observe, his profiler mind at work. The dining room table was covered with a cheerful blue and white striped cloth, and the vases of fresh flowers added a splash of color. The space felt lived-in and loved, a reflection of Y/N’s personality.

She’s soft and sweet, Spencer thought, noting the pastel hues and the gentle ambiance. Eclectic and bright, he added, taking in the mix of vintage and modern decor. He could see she liked to remember those close to her and keep bright colors around, suggesting a cheerful and sentimental nature.

“Y/N, your apartment really is lovely,” Spencer said sincerely, turning to her with a smile.

She blushed, feeling a mix of pride and vulnerability. “Thank you, Spencer.”

Spencer took a step closer, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I’m really glad you invited me over,” he said softly. “I feel like I’m getting to know you even better.”

Y/N looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine affection and curiosity there. Her heart raced, and she made a bold decision, avoiding the emotions coursing through her. “I want to have sex with you.”

“What?” Spencer's eyes widened in surprise.

“I want to have sex with you, Spencer. I want to feel you inside me,” she repeated, her voice steady.

“Y/N…” Spencer began, struggling to find the right words.

“I know we haven’t gone all the way yet, but I want to. Do you?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt.

“Of course I do, but—” Spencer started, but she cut him off.

“But what, Spencer?” she snapped, feeling a pang of rejection. If she can’t have him romantically, she at least wants to have him fully sexually.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly, his hands moving to cup her face. “Come here.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. Spencer leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender at first, then deepening with a passion that left them both breathless. They both ignored their rule.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

“Stop asking,” she said, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt. “I’ need you.”

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he helped her undress, their clothes falling to the floor in a heap. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, savoring every inch of her skin as he guided her toward the bedroom.

They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated breaths. Spencer hovered over her, his eyes locked onto hers. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek.

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “So are you, Spencer.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, his body pressing against hers. Y/N wrapped her legs around Spencer's waist, feeling his hard length slide between her wet core.

“Ohh, Spence,” she moaned.

“Yeah, that feel good, baby?” Spencer's voice was thick with desire.

No one had called Y/N baby in a long time. She let herself enjoy it for now. “Yeah, please, please, I need more.”

“Okay, okay, I got you,” he reassured her.

Spencer traced his fingers down Y/N’s body, pausing at her breasts to tug on her nipples. Y/N arched her back into Spencer's hands, moaning unabashedly. His hands continued their journey down, finding Y/N’s lips and spreading his fingers to run through the length of her.

Y/N gasped at the sensation, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Spence, please,” she whimpered, her voice filled with need.

Spencer positioned himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for confirmation. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Spencer. Please,” she replied, her voice trembling with anticipation.

He slowly pushed into her, their combined moans filling the room as he stretched and filled her. They moved together, finding a rhythm that brought them both immense pleasure.

Spencer leaned down to kiss her deeply, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. “You feel so– so good,” he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her hips to pull her closer.

“So do you, Spencer,” Y/N panted, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Spencer laughed, his ego being boosted. The pace of his hips quickened, their passion reaching new heights. Y/N’s breaths came in short, desperate gasps as Spencer pushed into her with powerful thrusts. “Spence, oh god, oh god, oh godddd,” she cried out.

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his movements becoming more frantic.

Spencer took Y/N’s thighs in his hands and pushed them up, getting deeper inside her. The new angle caused Y/N to yell out in pleasure, raising her hands to dig her fingers into Spencer’s biceps. Keeping one leg up, Spencer dropped a hand to Y/N’s clit, rubbing in precise, quick circles to bring her to her release.

“Spencer, I’m so close!” she gasped. “Oh god! I’m gonna—” Her back arched as liquid squirted out of her and all over Spencer.

“Oh my god, Y/N… did you just… squirt? I didn’t—I didn’t know you could do that,” Spencer said, his eyes wide with surprise and awe.

“I didn’t either,” she panted, still coming down from the high.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Spencer groaned, feeling himself on the brink. “I’m gonna cum.”

With a few more powerful thrusts, Spencer let out a deep, guttural moan as he reached his climax, his body tensing and then releasing all at once. He collapsed on top of her, pulling her close as he filled her up and they both caught their breath.

They lay there, their bodies entwined, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment. Spencer brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, looking into her eyes with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Y/N… I love you,” he said softly.

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you earlier, but you pounced on me when I got here,” Spencer laughed lightheartedly, trying to ease the tension.

“You’re joking, right?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

“No, I’m not,” Spencer replied, his expression serious. “Why would you say that?”

“Why would you?” she demanded, pushing him off of her so she could get off the bed.

“Y/N, I’m confused. Are you upset?” Spencer tilted his head like a puppy.

“Yes! Of course I’m upset, Spencer!” Y/N shouted as she pulled on her clothes.

“Why?” he asked in a small voice, feeling hollow.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice trembling with anger and fear.

“No, we need to talk about this,” Spencer insisted, his heart aching.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Spencer. This was supposed to be casual. You knew that. It’s not my fault you fell in love,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with hurt.

Spencer stood up to pull his briefs on, his expression filled with pain. “Y/N, it’s not just about me. I thought… I thought maybe you felt the same way.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he pleaded, standing up and reaching out for her.

“Because I can't!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

“Please, don’t do this,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t push me away.”

She shook her head, backing away. “No, Spencer. I can’t. I’m sorry.” Y/N looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain. “I’m sorry, Spencer. You need to leave.”

Spencer stood there for a moment, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go.”

As he gathered his clothes and dressed, Y/N turned away, unable to watch. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

Spencer paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with sorrow. “I hope one day you’ll believe that.”

With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. Y/N stood there, feeling the silence close in around her. She sank to the floor, tears flowing freely as the reality of what she had just done hit her.

She had pushed away the one person who had made her feel truly loved and safe. And now, she was left with the emptiness of her fears and regrets. As she cried, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.

—

Spencer was beyond devastated. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to sum it up. He couldn’t hide it from the team anymore, telling them everything that had happened. Well, not everything, but the important things. They all showed him so much love and support, trying to help him through the pain.

Emily, always fiercely protective of her friends, decided to take matters into her own hands. One evening, she stealthily left a bag of flaming dog shit on Y/N’s welcome mat. The fire flickered in the night as Emily slipped away, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Y/N, smelling something burning, opened the door to her apartment and immediately noticed the small fire on her welcome mat. Panicking, she stomped on the bag to put the flame out. The mess spread, getting into the fibers of the rug. She grimaced, realizing she’d have to throw it away. That mat was a housewarming gift from one of her old friends when she moved in with her ex. It held sentimental value, a reminder of a past life.

As she cleaned up the mess, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of her actions. She knew she deserved this. She had hurt Spencer deeply, and now she was paying for it in small, petty ways. The guilt gnawed at her, making her question everything.

Meanwhile, at the BAU, Spencer found solace in his friends. They rallied around him, offering support and understanding. He could see the anger in Emily’s eyes, the quiet sympathy in JJ’s, and the resolute determination in Derek’s. They all wanted to help him heal, and their efforts weren’t in vain.

“Spencer, we’re here for you,” Derek said one day as they sat in the break room. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with sadness. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Emily leaned over, her expression softening. “You’re strong, Spencer. And you’ll get through this. We’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Spencer nodded, grateful for their unwavering support. He knew it would take time, but he also knew he wasn’t alone. The team was his family, and they would help him find his way through the darkness.

Back at her apartment, Y/N sat on her couch, staring at the new welcome mat she had bought. It didn’t have the same sentimental value, but it was a reminder of the consequences of her actions. She felt a deep sense of regret, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake pushing Spencer away.

As the days went by, the weight of her decision became harder to bear. She missed Spencer, his kindness, his intelligence, and the way he made her feel safe. She missed the potential of what they could have had together. And now, she had to live with the knowledge that she had thrown it all away out of fear.

Y/N knew she had to make things right, but she wasn’t sure if it was too late or if she deserved to. The thought of reaching out to Spencer terrified her, but the thought of never seeing him again was even worse. She had to find the courage to face her fears, to try and make amends for the hurt she had caused.

With a heavy heart and a resolve to fix what she had broken, Y/N began to formulate a plan. She didn’t know if Spencer would ever forgive her, but she had to try. She owed him that much. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to mend both their broken hearts.

—

A month after Y/N kicked Spencer out, she showed up at his door. Anxiously knocking and waiting. But an answer never came. Spencer was on a case. When he got back home, one of his nosy neighbors told him, “A pretty young thing had been around knocking on your door.” His heart stopped. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and think that it was Y/N, but Spencer didn’t get many other visitors, especially of the pretty young thing variety.

Once the team returned to work, Spencer snuck into Penelope’s office and asked her for a favor.

“Garcia, do you think you can check the security cameras from my building from the last week?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

“Well duh, why my dear?” Penelope responded, already intrigued.

“I think Y/N showed up while we were gone,” Spencer admitted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ohhh juicy, I’m in. Give me one second to work my magic,” Penelope said, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Penelope confirmed that Y/N had in fact visited his building, and Spencer lost his breath. He thanked her and turned to leave, but Penelope wasn’t done with her sleuthing. Y/N had hurt her friend, and she needed to know who she was. She felt that she now had a semblance of Spencer’s permission.

“Uh Reid,” she called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning back to her.

“I think I know why Y/N won’t date,” Penelope said cautiously.

“What? Why? Is she married?” Spencer asked, his mind racing.

“No… she almost was,” Penelope revealed, her eyes filled with sympathy.

“What??” Spencer rushed over to the screen to see pictures and mementos of Y/N’s time dating her old partner.

“When did they separate?” he asked, his voice strained.

“About a month before she met you,” Penelope answered, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard.

“Okay… so is that why she doesn’t want to date?” Spencer pressed, trying to piece everything together.

“No, I think it’s because of this right here,” Penelope said, pointing to the screen and showing another security video of Y/N at a bar, kissing another person, not her partner. The time stamp confirmed she was still in a relationship at the time.

“She… she cheated?” Spencer’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“Yeah, baby, I’m afraid so,” Penelope said softly.

“Oh,” was all Spencer could manage, his mind reeling.

“She probably didn’t want to hurt you, my love,” Penelope offered gently.

“She did anyway,” Spencer replied, his voice hollow.

“I know. Are you okay?” Penelope asked, her concern evident.

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, shaking his head. “I mean, why didn’t she just tell me? The saying ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ isn’t always true. It’s circumstantial.”

“Why don’t you just ask her about it?” Penelope suggested, her eyes full of understanding.

“I don’t know, Garcia. I need to think,” Spencer said, his voice filled with uncertainty as he turned and left her office, the weight of the new information heavy on his shoulders.

—

Y/N was sitting in her apartment in the dark, staring out the window at the night sky. She hadn't been herself lately, rather a shell of who she became while she was with Spencer. She was taking this parting harder than her breakup with her last partner. She’d been trying to work up the nerve to go back over to his apartment, but she was afraid that he was there that night and ignored her purposefully.

As she spiraled in her thoughts, there was a quiet knock on her door. She turned her head, thinking she was imagining it. Then a soft voice called out her name. Spencer.

She scrambled up, quickly walking over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hi,” she said, almost star-struck, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hello.”

“Do you… do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her voice shaky with nerves.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, um, why are—”

“Did you cheat in your last relationship?” Spencer interrupted, his voice steady but cold, catching her off guard.

“What?” Y/N’s heart dropped, her stomach churning with anxiety.

“I know you heard what I said.” This was the coldest Spencer had ever been with her, and it stung more than she expected.

“I, um,” her eyes welled up with tears, “yeah. I did.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, his tone demanding but his eyes filled with hurt.

“Does it matter? There’s never a good reason,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“Yes, it does matter to me,” Spencer insisted, his eyes piercing into hers, searching for answers.

Y/N huffed out a shaky breath. “Okay, well, they had a very demanding job that required them to travel for months at a time…”

Spencer listened intently, his expression unreadable as she continued.

“And at first, it wasn’t so bad. They would call often, we’d engage in intimate phone or video calls, they’d send flowers and postcards, and bring me home a gift from every place they visited. But over time, they started pulling away. Calls were missed, texts were ignored, I stopped receiving flowers. Postcards were far and few, and they didn’t have anything written on them. No more gifts, and when they were home, we barely touched. A kiss here and there, they would only touch me in the shower. Like—like I was dirty or something.”

“Then one night, I went out with our friends while they were away. They had been gone for three months; the trips kept getting longer, more frequent, like they couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. There was a person at the bar we went to, they flirted with me, told me I was beautiful, gave me the attention I was so desperate for. And when they asked me to come home with them, I said yes.”

“I regretted it immediately. I called them as soon as I left. They broke up with me, obviously, told me to have my things packed and gone before they got back at the end of the week. That was the end of that. We haven’t talked since.”

“Did they say anything else?” Spencer asked, his voice softening slightly, though the tension remained.

“They told me that they would have never done that to me, no matter how bad things got between us. That I was… a… a whore,” she choked on a sob, “and that I didn’t deserve good things, that I didn’t deserve love. I agreed with them.”

“And now?” Spencer prompted gently, his eyes filled with empathy.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Now? Now I don’t know, Spencer. I’m scared. I’m scared of being that person again, of hurting someone I care about. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe from me, but it’s only made everything worse. I couldn’t stop myself from hurting you.”

Spencer took a step closer, his eyes softening with understanding. “Y/N, everyone makes mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them. You’re not that person anymore. You deserve love, and you deserve good things. But you have to believe that.”

“I want to believe that,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “But it’s so hard. If I hadn’t been selfish that night, if I had just walked away from you… you never would have been hurt.”

“But then I never would have met you,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“Was it worth it? Even though I hurt you?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Of course it was. It is. The only thing I regret is not fighting harder,” Spencer said, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Really? You don’t hate me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, Y/N. I could never hate you. I love you,” Spencer said firmly, his hands reaching out to cup her face.

Y/N was silent, tears streaming down her cheeks. The weight of his words settling into her heart.

“Please say it back,” Spencer pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I want to, I want to so bad,” she admitted, her voice choked with tears.

Spencer took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Just say it, please.”

“What if I hurt you? What if I cheat on you?” Y/N’s voice quivered with fear.

“You won’t. I mean, please don’t?” Spencer chuckled lightly, trying to ease her fears.

“But you go away for work so much. What if you stop loving me? You meet someone else while you’re gone, or you realize I’m not worth the work and effort?” Y/N’s voice was filled with anguish, her insecurities laid bare.

Spencer shook his head, his grip on her hands tightening. “Y/N, listen to me. I love you. I’m not going to stop loving you because of my job. We’ll make it work, just like we’ve made it work so far. You are worth every bit of effort and more. And if I ever made you feel otherwise, I’m sorry. You deserve to know that you’re worth it.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“What was that?” Spencer asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“I know you heard me,” Y/N mumbled back, using his own words from earlier.

“Say it again, please. Never stop saying it,” he pleaded, his eyes shining with joy.

“I love you, Spencer Reid,” she said, her voice stronger this time, filled with certainty and love.

Spencer grabbed her, pulling her into a passionate kiss that took her breath away. Their lips moved together with a fierce intensity, all the pent-up emotions and unspoken words pouring out in that single moment.

They finally pulled apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting against each other’s.

“Y/N,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with awe and adoration. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” she replied, her heart swelling with happiness.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful. They had faced their fears and insecurities, and now, they were ready to move forward together, stronger than ever before.

Y/N pulled away slowly, as if in a daze. “Spence… are you hard right now?”

Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Ha. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Y/N laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Because we were having a sweet moment!” Spencer joined in on her laughter.

“Is it because I said I love you? Did you get an emotional boner?” she teased, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think so,” Spencer admitted, chuckling.

“Well, that’s a first,” Y/N said, her laughter bubbling up.

“Yeah, it’s a first for me too. Just give me a second, it will go away,” Spencer said, trying to compose himself.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, her voice turning sultry. “Get your sexy little ass in the bedroom. Now.”

“God, I love it when you tell me what to do,” Spencer replied, his eyes darkening with desire.

“I know, baby,” Y/N said, her voice low and seductive.

“Wait, did you just call my ass little?” Spencer asked, a mock-offended look on his face.

“Well… yeah. But I love it anyway. It fits so nicely in my hands!” Y/N said, grinning as she playfully squeezed his backside.

Spencer laughed, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bedroom. “You are something else, you know that?”

“And you love it,” she replied, pulling him close for another kiss.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Spencer murmured against her lips.

They made quick work of Spencer's sweater vest and button-up, dropping the offending articles to Y/N’s bedroom floor. Next came his pants and finally his briefs before he was pushed onto the bed, his head nestled in the large amount of pillows.

“Y/N,” he squirmed, feeling so exposed while she was still fully clothed.

“What is it, baby?” she teased, her voice a playful purr.

“I need something!” Spencer’s voice was desperate, his body aching for her touch.

“What do you need?” she asked, drawing out the moment.

“You!” he replied, his voice filled with longing.

“I’m right here,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Y/N…” he whined, his frustration growing. “Stop teasing, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Do you want me to touch you?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Yes, please,” he begged, his eyes pleading.

“Good boy… so polite,” she cooed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Can you take your clothes off… please?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Of course, my love,” she replied, a tender smile on her lips.

Y/N stripped down to her panties, leaving those on for something she had in mind. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of her, his desire for her growing even more intense.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him deeply. Her hands roamed his body, caressing and teasing, drawing soft moans from his lips.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his hands gripping the sheets.

She smiled against his lips, her hands trailing down to wrap around his length, stroking him gently. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his hips arching into her touch.

“Good,” she murmured, kissing along his jawline and down his neck.

Spencer raised his hands to cup Y/N’s ass, but she took his hands away immediately. “Hands to yourself, no touching,” she commanded, her voice firm.

Spencer whined loudly, bucking his hips into Y/N. “Do I need to tie you down?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise,” he replied quickly, his eyes wide with need.

Y/N resumed her motions, now kissing Spencer’s chest, licking and sucking his nipples while stroking his cock. Spencer moaned loudly, unable to control himself with all his pent-up tension.

“Shhh, be quiet,” she whispered, her voice a teasing command.

Spencer bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans as Y/N’s mouth and hand worked magic on his body. She continued her ministrations, driving him wild with every touch and kiss. The restraint was torture, but it made every sensation more intense, heightening his pleasure.

Y/N’s other hand roamed down his body, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers through him. She kissed her way down his tummy, her tongue flicking out to taste him, making him squirm beneath her.

“Please, Y/N,” he begged, his voice a desperate whisper.

“Be patient, baby,” she replied, her lips curling into a smile against his skin. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She moved lower, her kisses trailing down his abdomen, making him tremble with anticipation. Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to touch her, to pull her closer.

When she finally reached his cock, Spencer gasped, his body arching off the bed. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper. He moaned again, louder this time, his resolve breaking.

“Quiet,” Y/N reminded him, her voice a hushed whisper as she looked up at him.

Spencer nodded, biting his lip harder, his body shaking with the effort to stay silent. Y/N’s mouth worked him expertly, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy and then pulling back, prolonging his pleasure.

“Y/N, please,” he begged again, his voice strained. “I need you.”

“You just can’t listen, can you? I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?” she hissed, her voice low and commanding.

Spencer looked up at her with wide eyes, his desperation clear. “I am being a good boy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still talking,” Y/N said, standing up and moving away from the bed.

Spencer immediately reached out, his voice a pleading whine. “No, baby, please come back.”

Y/N slipped her panties off, stalking over to Spencer with a predatory grace. She lightly grabbed his neck, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I said: Shut. Up.”

After she finished speaking, she shoved her panties into Spencer’s mouth, making him groan deeply around the fabric. The sensation of the fabric in his mouth and the dominance in her eyes sent a thrill through him.

“Good boy,” she whispered, her voice a tantalizing mix of authority and affection.

Spencer’s eyes closed, the delicious taste of her panties in his mouth amplifying his other senses. He could feel her every touch, every movement, with heightened intensity.

Y/N climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself over him. She took a moment to admire the sight of him, vulnerable and at her mercy, before she slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The connection between them was electric, sending shivers through their bodies.

Spencer’s hands gripped the sheets, his muffled moans vibrating through the fabric in his mouth. Y/N began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove him to the brink of insanity.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her hands scratching down his chest. “My good boy.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a mix of adoration and need as he arched his back at the sensation. He wanted to speak, to tell her how much he loved her, how amazing she felt, but the panties in his mouth kept him silent. Instead, he poured all his emotions into his gaze, hoping she could see how deeply he felt for her.

Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’re doing so well, Spencer. Just a little longer.”

Her words sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his body responding to her every command. The tension between them built, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased her release. “Spencer, baby, please… you can touch me now. I’m so close,” she moaned.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. His hands flew to grab her body, one sliding to her core to rub her clit with diligence and determination. His other hand groped her chest, pinching her nipples, making Y/N throw her head back and whine loudly into the dark apartment.

As she neared her release, her walls tightened around Spencer, driving him absolutely insane. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. Watching and feeling Y/N reach her peak was almost too much for him to handle.

With a guttural moan, Spencer moved his hands to her hips and thrust up into her wildly. Y/N leaned forward with the intensity, pulling her panties out of Spencer’s mouth and hiding her face in his neck, panting heavily.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck. You feel so good. I’m so close,” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

Y/N’s breath was hot against his neck, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Come on, baby. Cum inside me,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw need.

Spencer’s hands tightened on her hips, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. With one final thrust, Spencer cried out, his release hitting him with a force that left him breathless.

They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in their chests. Y/N lay on top of Spencer, her head resting on his shoulder, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

Once Y/N finally caught her breath, she came back to the reality of what had happened during the throes of passion. “Hey, baby… was that okay?”

“Are you kidding? That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with wonder.

“Well, gee, thanks, Spence,” Y/N giggled, her face still buried in his neck. “I meant the underwear, and the choking, and the… you know, dominant stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. God, yeah, that was more than okay. I loved it,” Spencer said, his voice sincere.

“Oh, okay, good,” Y/N smiled, and Spencer could feel her lips curve up against him.

“You better watch out, though,” he teased.

“Why’s that, big boy?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“Someday, I’m gonna put you in your place,” Spencer said with a smirk.

“Okay, baby, I’d like to see you try,” Y/N challenged, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

They lay there in silence, taking in the comfort of each other’s presence, having never held one another after sex before. It felt new and wonderful, a quiet intimacy they both cherished.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back.

“Do you—do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Oh, um, I thought this was just casual?” Spencer teased in a faux serious voice, unable to resist.

Y/N squawked and hit Spencer’s chest in indignation. Laughing, she said, “You asshole.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. And… you kind of deserved it,” Spencer said, still chuckling.

“You’re right, Spence. You got me,” she laughed. “So…”

“Yes, Y/N. I would be honored to be your boyfriend,” Spencer said, kissing Y/N softly, sealing his words.

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itsybitsybluesy · 2 months

Text

OPEN WATER

ELUCIEN / EXPLICIT / WIP, 3 OF 6 CHAPTERS / CH1 CH2 CH3 Stuck in the Florida Keys and tired of letting her sisters make decisions for her, Elain ditches their group vacay plans and signs herself up for a scuba diving course on an impulse. The instructor Lucien tells her he’s never had to fail anyone after the four days she’ll spend with him. What’s the worst that could happen?

wow! this is, i kid you not, my first fanfic in over 10 years. i want you to dive right in (HAHAHA), but let me first say: i was having a really bad time earlier this year, and turned to the work of some fantastic, generous creators as a distraction from stuff going on.

you don't know me, but: @separatist-apologist and @the-lonelybarricade, thank you for the hours / nights / months i spent curling up to read your work and giggle, and really, converting me into a big big elucien stan. the elain and lucien living happily ever after in my head (or let's be real, living the 10,000 stupid idiots in love plots in my head) were born thanks to you.

p.s. i started posting this before @elucienweekofficial so let this be a fun little AU warmup while i get something else kicking around. i think i might??? actually finish this before the weekend so i'm going to ride the high of writing spicy fanfic for the first time ever(!) while it lasts and whip up something else next week if i can. i'm so happy to be here!

xoxo, and please, do NOT bother your dive instructors!!

[read a snippet under the cut]

It was a quick drive to Elain’s hotel, which looked out over the small, locals-only marina he’d been meaning to show her. Elain followed him trustingly down the dock as he led her towards the slip. “You know, I eat my breakfast out here,” she said, pointing to a swimming pier by the hotel restaurant. “Have you been following me?”

“A coincidence,” Lucien promised, though his heart beat a little faster. “In fact, the question is, are you trying to steal my secret spot?”

Elain gave him a confused look and Lucien grinned, turning from her to climb onto a small but newly-painted red sailboat. He extended a hand to help her get on. “Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere,” he said. “I’m not much of a boat captain.”

Elain stepped over to him, one hand on the rolled-up sail. “And yet, this boat,” she said. Her face said, why are we here?

Lucien stretched his arms out. “This happens to be the most exclusive place to watch a sunset around here, I’ll have you know,” he said. Then he opened the cabin door, climbed down, and reached up a hand to her. “There’s more.”

She followed him in, expression unreadable as she made her way down the ladder, then straightened and looked around. They were in a tiny, fully furnished apartment cabin.

“Whoa,” Elain said as Lucien ducked to switch on the small A/C unit. “You are like, full of mysteries today.” Her voice was soft, leaving him room to fill in the blanks if he wanted to. Lucien reached into the minifridge he still kept plugged in, pulled out two Cokes, passing one to her as he fussed around the cabin to keep from looking at her.

“When I graduated college, Jurian had this boat,” he started, and stopped for a moment. No one except Jurian and Vassa knew this about him. But she was so open and so lovely to him that he wanted to make up for rebuffing her attempts to get to know him, give her something real about himself even if she hated what she saw.

“He had the shop, but I still had to get my instructor training, and pay for it too. My dad had died that senior year,” he said, “And my mom was figuring stuff out.” And he’d had no place to go, and not enough money in the bank to sign a lease, and nobody wanted him around. “It was temporary. I showered at the dive shop and ate a lot of microwave meals.” He shrugged. “When you’re 22 it’s like camping.”

He thought he’d die if he saw pity in her eyes, but when he turned, Elain was standing leaned against the lofted bed, fingertips resting on the sheets, eyes closed. She opened them and looked at him. “I can feel the boat rocking,” she said, almost in a whisper, with a small smile. Lucien was so grateful for her kindness he could burst with it.

“I used to turn off all the lights and A/C when it was cool enough and just lie here and listen to the water,” he said, taking a step towards her. Elain watched him but did not move. There were no windows except a tinted skylight. The sheets on the bed were the same ones he’d made neatly and desperately every morning that long year, as if willing the place into a home beneath his hands.

“I can hear it,” Elain said, eyes fluttering closed once again. Lucien watched her for a beat as she stood there, trusting him, and then crossed the distance between them and kissed her.

#acotar #elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

Text

Built for Love Part 8 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Ummm this chapter has a little bit of everything... Family, fluff, a bit of smut, slight angst. It also has a time jump because we gotta keep shit movingggg. And I could write 100 chapters of fluff with these two butttt we're here for the drama! lol Also another gif that has nothing to do with anything LOL But I imagine this is what our girl wakes up to every day and I love that for her

Warnings: brief mentions of DV

“So Charlie, are you excited to be back on the stage?” Michael’s mom asked as they settled around Michael’s dining room table for dinner.

Though it was a small affair, the table was weighed down by Donna’s decadent and delicious cooking, his mom cooking both he and Charlotte’s favorites for their goodbye dinner. Once his father had said grace, initial conversations had given way to the sounds of forks and spoons clinking against china as everyone passed dishes and savored Donna’s cooking. Though Michael’s family was used to it, Charlotte’s were too busy stuffing their faces to be much conversationalists.

Her face had been drawn up in a bright smile since her brother, Lauren, and Jazz arrived. The tone around the table was a bittersweet one, joy for Charlotte and this opportunity everyone knew she deserved and needed, but melancholy at having two staples of their respective communities gone, even if it was only a temporary absence.

Between the press tour and preparing to leave, the time had flown by and the move that once seemed so far away was hurtling toward them like a high speed train. Charlotte still found herself shocked that Michael was willing to move with her. As the date inched closer and closer, she half expected him to find an excuse not to accompany her. But that never materialized. Instead, he took it upon himself to do all of the planning. Time to find an apartment? Already done and vetted by Michael. Furnish the place? Interior decorator was already on it with images of both of their homes to capture their respective styles. All day, every day, he sent her restaurants and places he wanted to try, some Charlotte had been to and some she hadn’t, or asked her about her favorite spots to add to the list. His excitement was contagious, which counteracted the stress, dread, and anxiety Charlotte felt. For him, this was just the first of many adventures with the woman he loved. For her, it was returning home after running away. And that was never easy.

“Yea I really am. It’ll be an adjustment for sure. Next two months’ll be crazy. But I… really missed it. I’m coming in a few weeks behind in rehearsals but it’ll be good to be back.”

Michael’s hand, which had rested on her thigh since they sat down, squeezed gently to reassure her, soothing her anxiety.

“Only on the choreo. This girl could perform the show and songs forward and backwards right now if she wanted.”

Charlotte smiled. “He might be right about that. But the choreo is the harder part for me anyway.”

“Yea the girl was born with every talent but rhythm,” Jackson called down the table causing everyone to laugh, Charlotte leaning behind Michael’s chair to flip him off without everyone seeing.

“He never gives her credit. Charlie is a great dancer,” Lauren chimed in, not allowing her husband to joke at her best friend’s expense. “Remember the spring production of Oklahoma our freshman year??”

Charlotte groaned. “Ugh don’t remind me! Some of the worst weeks of my life.”

“What happened?” Michael asked.

“There was a nasty norovirus going around campus and Charlie, one of the only freshmen in Juilliard history to play the coveted lead of a spring production, caught it the second day of rehearsals. Was out for two weeks. The director planned on bumping up her understudy.”

“A senior who despised me and was probably hoping the virus would kill me,” she laughed. “Director said there was noooooo way I could learn the staging and choreo in the two remaining weeks before opening night,” Charlotte interjected, rolling her eyes. “He was just worried he took a chance on a freshman only for her to crash and burn.”

“Since I was dancing in the production, I could record rehearsals. Charlotte watched every rehearsal, learning every move, lyric, and note while she was sick. Sis showed up once she was cleared by the doctor and you wouldn’t have even known she missed two weeks of rehearsals. She looked and sounded better than some folks who’d been to every rehearsal.”

“Messed up one or two steps,” she admitted. “But nothing that couldn’t be fixed in the time we had left.”

“How’d you manage that?”

She shrugged. “I just rehearsed and slept in between trips to the bathroom,” she laughed. “My doctor thought I was completely insane but as they say, ‘the show must go on.’”

“Will you have enough tickets for us all to come to opening night or do we need to come at a different time?” Jackson asked.

“I definitely can get everyone tickets for previews, those start mid February. Not sure how many I can snag for opening night though.”

“What are previews?” Michael’s dad asked.

“Oh, sort of a test run? Just an opportunity to perform the show to audiences before the official opening night. Gives you a chance to work out issues and fix things before critics review it. The show ran off-Broadway first so our previews are only a couple weeks. So we have a month and a half of true rehearsals and then previews and then the show premieres March 1.”

“And how long are you all gonna be there again?”

“In total? 8 months I guess with rehearsals? I only signed on to be on the cast for six months though… March to September.”

“Knowing you, you’ll extend it,” Jackson offered with a knowing smile.

Charlotte shook her head. “I dunno. Chris would love that. But doing 8 shows a week for six months is a lot. And gets old after a while,” she admitted. “Maybe I’d do a different show, but I'll probably come back here. I promised Chris six months so that’s all I’m committing to.”

Everyone nodded in understanding, the conversation drifting away from Charlie and to separate topics. Charlie glanced around the table, a soft content smile on her face as she watched the two groups interact. It was not just each family chatting off to themselves. Lauren and Michael’s mom and sister were deep in a conversation about the struggles of parenting young children; Michael’s brother and Jackson were arguing about the Lakers vs the Clippers; and Jazz and Michael were deeply enthralled in a story told by Michael Sr. And everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there and interact. This was their first time truly combining the groups but she thought it boded well for when they all met the rest of her immediate family on the East Coast. If Jazz, Lauren, and Jackson liked them and fit in, the rest of her family would too.

As dinner winded down, Charlotte stood up from the table to bring out dessert. Michael offered a soft peck to the inside of her wrist, which she returned with one to the top of his head, before she grabbed his plate to take into the kitchen. She hummed to herself as she loaded the dishwasher and pulled out the cake his mom prepared earlier that day. It was Michael’s favorite, her rum cake. Charlie could not deny it was one of the best cakes she had ever tasted, hers included.

As she moved the cake to the island, she lost her balance on her heels, almost falling. She was able to sit the cake down quickly, it wobbled slightly in its glass case but remained unharmed despite her clumsiness.

“There you go, tripping over air,” she cursed herself, annoyed and thankful she had not destroyed his mother’s cake. As she moved the holder on the island, a wave of deja vu hit her, a vision of a cake and cake holder smashing to the ground filling her brain. She paused, studying the glass cake stand, her stiletto-shaped nails gliding over it gently. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, the memory too foggy and distant to make sense of. During most of her deja-vu moments or flashbacks, the memories hit her like she was being forced in front of a movie screen. But as much as she racked her brain, she couldn't think of anything related to this moment.

“You ok, dear?” Donna’s soft voice interrupted Charlotte as she zoomed through the Rolodex of memories in her mind.

“Hm? Oh yea, I’m ok,” Charlotte answered, glancing up. she noticed the plates in the woman’s hands before abandoning her thoughts and grabbing them from her. “Let me get those.”

“Thank you, dear. Your family is lovely. They fit right in,” Donna offered as she moved to grab a knife and small plates for dessert.

Charlotte smiled, “Thanks. I’m excited for all of you to meet the rest of them. Everyone else is fairly tame in comparison,” she joked.

As she loaded their dishwasher, she glanced at his mom.

“This was all delicious, thank you. Thank God he picked up your cooking skills or else we’d starve in New York.”

The older woman laughed. “Well anytime you want to learn, you let me know. Though I think you’d give me a run for my money with those desserts of yours.”

Charlotte could not help but beam a bit at her compliment.

Charlotte dried her hands on a dish towel, anxiously twisting the soft fabric in her hands and chewing on her lip as she watched his mom.

“I hope you don’t mind…” she started, pausing as the older woman looked at her with confusion. “M-Me stealing him away for a while. I’m honestly still a bit surprised he wanted to do this at all. But I know it’s probably hard when he’s gone for a long time. I feel kinda bad?” She admitted quietly. “I know he’s gonna miss you guys so much.” She stared at the wall that blocked Michael and everyone at the table from their vision, her face falling a bit as she felt the guilt of pulling him away from his family and community in LA. Even though he offered, she could not help but question whether she should have accepted it, accepted taking him away from his family like this.

“If I may?” Donna’s hands wrapped around Charlotte’s, halting her anxious movements and towel twisting. “I know it hasn’t been that long but I’ve never seen my son as happy as he is with you. One thing you should never doubt is how much that man in there adores you. I dare say he would try to move a mountain if he thought it’d bring you joy. You should never feel bad for accepting the manifestations of his love and commitment. Because I dare say, this is just the beginning.”

Charlotte felt a tear start to fall, not from sadness but from the love, grace, and compassion his mother always showed her. From the moment they first met to today, she never acted like those dreaded mother-in-laws her married friends moaned about. Charlotte’s mother would not be considered a constant presence in her life, a rarity at best. And through everything she had been through, the one thing she had always hoped for but never had was a mom. Michael’s mom did not know about her mom’s absence but she seemed to recognize it was something Charlie still needed, a mother’s love, support, grace, and word of wisdom. And she offered it in droves.

“T-thank you,” she whispered, whisking the tears away just as Michael rounded the corner to check on them.

“Hey, you two alright?”

“Yes of course, baby.” Her face immediately brightened as he entered the room, not even just to hide her and his mom’s emotional moment but just from his presence. “Just hounding your mom for this amazing rum cake recipe so I can make it for you in New York…”

“But… I told her she’s gotta be officially in the family first for me to share it. So get to it,” she whispered to Bakari with a sly smile and a peck on the cheek as she returned to the dining room with the rest of the family.

“Damn, she’s not subtle at all, is she?” he asked as he grabbed the cake while Charlotte grabbed the plates his mom pulled out.

Charlotte laughed, patting him on the chest as she passed him to return to the dining room. “No, definitely not.”

***

Their moans created an orchestra filling his bedroom as Michael kept Charlotte’s eyes trained on his as he fucked her slow and deep.

They rarely had sex in missionary these days, both of them finding other positions far more interesting and fun. However, when they were both in the mood for something slower and more sensual, missionary hit the spot for both of them. It offered them something deeper than pure pleasure. It was an intimacy and comfort they both needed for their last night in Michael’s bed for a while.

Looking into each other’s eyes was a meeting of the minds, beyond merely connecting with their bodies, they connected with their souls. They saw all of each other, all of the excitement, anxiety, joy, and fear of what tomorrow would hold for them. And every moment, every movement and touch between them was an effort to honor those feelings. Every touch and whispered adoration told the other that they were here and they were ready for everything the universe had in store for them.

There would be time for fast and wild later. Tonight, they were just cherishing the moment and each other before their first real adventure as a couple began.

“J-Just li-like that. F-Fuck, I-I love you,” she moaned, having already lost count of her orgasms as Michael pushed her to the edge of another one.

She could tell he was close as he picked up the pace a bit. Her hips rocked slightly to meet his, her core pulsing and tightening around him causing a primitive moan to escape him.

It only took a moment for him to fill her before he rolled off of her.

“You good?” He asked, a question he usually asked when they finished up, whether the session was slow and sensual or had her doing acrobatics. And the answer was always in the same vein: she was more than good.

“Excellent. I could fall asleep j-just like this,” she yawned, knowing that her sleep after sex was always elite, Michael tiring her out to the point where she could not do much else. However, before she did, she got up to go to the bathroom, Michael talking to her as she groped her way through the darkness of his room.

“You ready for tomorrow?” He asked as he found his briefs to slide on and climb back into bed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she called back. “You sure you still wanna come? Not too late to back out. Well, we signed a lease, on a way too expensive apartment, I might add… so it’s a bit late. But you could still do it.”

Though her tone had the intent of a joke, Michael could still hear it, her hesitation and fear that let him know she was still concerned he would abandon her. He knew she would not truly believe him until they were moved in and settled but he was genuinely excited to go with her. Not just to support her and provide her with some sense of safety while she was there, but to witness this next stage in her career. This was her dream and he saw no better use of his time than watching her fulfill it. He knew why she was hesitant, they had only been dating for mere months. However, when he looked at Charlotte, he saw a perfect glittering gold path to a future he had never given much thought to because he had always been too focused on the hustle, a marriage and a family like the one his parents had built. To him, this was one step down that path and he would never regret taking it. Part of him was annoyed he would have to return to LA in June for another project before her time in New York ended but he decided he would savor the initial six months of uninterrupted time together.

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy, honey bee. And after living with me in New York, maybe that’ll convince you to move in with me when we get back?” He asked as she washed her hands.

She poked her head out into the room to look at him, finding that his face matched the seriousness of his tone and words.

“What? Y-You want me to move in? Here?”

He continued to surprise her with his level of commitment and dedication overall. However, just as she was about to doubt he truly meant it, his mother’s words floated back to her mind.

"Well, it wouldn't be here forever. Just till we found a new spot… something that's ours," he emphasized. “We’re gonna live together for at least 6 months in New York… if it works out and you don’t absolutely hate me by the end,” he joked, “Why not? What? You don’t think we should?"

She shrugged as she climbed back into his bed. “No, no, I’m not saying that at all. I mean I basically live here as it is,” she admitted. “I g-guess I just didn’t think about what living together in New York would mean for when we got back? Of course, you thought of it though. You think ahead and have a plan for everything.”

Michael was glad she could not see his face as she settled against his chest. She truly had no idea how far ahead his planning went when it came to her.

“Well, I just know what I want and I don’t believe in wasting time. But I’m not sayin’ you gotta decide now or anything. Let’s see how New York goes. I just wanted to see if you’d be interested in it.”

“Yea, I’m interested.”

He nodded. “Now are you gonna tell me what you and my momma were talking about earlier? You looked upset?”

Charlotte chuckled, she turned over so her chest was against his, her ear pressed against his chest. The light thumps of his heart filled her ear like a soothing drumbeat. “I should’ve known you weren’t gonna let that go… I wasn’t upset. She j-just said something I needed to hear.”

She felt his lips press against the top of her head, her eyes falling closed for a moment. She appreciated that he did not press any further for information.

“Yea, I don't know how she does that. It's kinda creepy, honestly… that mother's intuition."

“Yea, its like she sees into your soul or something." Her last words turned into a mumble as she yawned and her eyes fell closed.

All Michael could do was chuckle before kissing her forehead and falling asleep himself, her gentle snores filling his ears.

***

Charlotte glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window of their new apartment on the edge of the Upper West Side. It was as beautiful and pristine as the pictures Michael had shown her. They were high enough to have a great view of the city from their balcony. It was in the perfect location too for work and there was so much around for her and Michael to do. The furnishings were perfect, the exact mix of her and Michael’s individual interior style. She knew he hired a designer but it was clear the person knew their shit. The house already felt warm, cozy, and safe, all the things Charlotte needed, and they had only been in it for an hour.

“What are you thinking?” He asked from the couch as he scrolled through his phone, both of them avoiding the dreaded unpacking they had to do.

“I’m thinking about my crappy little studio apartment when I first graduated… and my two bedroom with one of my college friends for those few months…” she paused, that apartment was a graveyard of bad memories. “Before I moved. I’ve j-just come up in the world, I guess.”

Bakari beckoned her to him, the young woman leaving her perch against the window to join him. The moment she was in arm’s length, he gently pulled her down onto his lap, Charlotte nestling into him with ease.

“This place is insane, Bakari. I mean I love it but I still think it’s too much,” she remarked, she raised her hands as if to surrender, knowing she was bringing up a touchy subject for them both.

“Aht aht. We came to an agreement on that,” he lightly kissed her bare shoulder.

She nodded, neither of them wanting to fall back into their first true argument of their relationship a few months earlier.

“So what do you think?”

Charlotte laughed. “I think I could fit 5 or 6 of my first apartment in that place,” she gestured toward his laptop as he flipped through photos of a high-rise three-bedroom apartment. “I mean it’s gorgeous but I don’t think I can afford it.”

“Yea but I can. It’s perfect. Really solid security, there’s only one apartment on each floor so it’s pretty private. And it's only 15 minutes from the theaters so when you finish up evening shows, it’s not a long drive. It’s perfect for us. Don’t think about the cost. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I love it but,” she chuckled. “Creed was my first real check in two years, babe. And I still gotta pay for my apartment here. I don’t really have the luxury of not thinking about the cost of things.”

“Ok but I’m sayin’ you don’t have to think about it cause I got it.”

“Well how much do you want me to contribute a month? If we go 50/50, it would be tight but I could swing it then, I guess.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “ I wasn’t expecting you to contribute anything. We ain’t roommates, Els.”

She shook her head, pushing off of the couch to pace in his living room, her annoyance officially rising. Finances continued to be a touchy subject for the pair. However, usually, Charlotte only put up so much of a fight before she gave in. But she could not give in on this, not today.

“It’s one thing for you to always pay for dinners and shit like that but you can’t pay all of our rent while we’re there. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why can’t I?” He asked, his tone signaling that he did not understand the seriousness of the conversation for Charlotte in the slightest. He still did not quite understand her hang up with finances. He knew it was part of the cycle of abuse but he had no problem spending money on her if need be. She had only just stopped fighting him on paying for dates. Though he was not the type of celebrity who blew all of his money on frivolous things, Michael also did not pretend money was a significant consideration in his decisions because it just wasn’t. And he would never apologize for wanting to spend his money on her, for wanting to support her.

“B-Because I…” Charlotte stopped herself from finishing the sentence, Don’t want you to be able to control me that way. But she knew that was not his way.“T-then it’s y-your house a-and not mine. I-I would just feel more comfortable i-if you let me contribute something. L-Let me pay for half? Besides, you’re gonna be in LA sometimes, full time in the summer. You shouldn’t pay the full amount every month like you’re gonna be there the whole time.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Charlotte. I don’t need your money and I don’t want it.” His tone signaled that he hoped to get the final word in and end the discussion.

She could not help but feel frustrated like he was not hearing her. But she understood why he did not see this situation through her eyes. “I-It’s not about you n-needing it!” She cried out, Michael suddenly realizing her unexpected outburst meant more simmered beneath the surface than her just wanting to contribute. She took a deep breath, not wanting to start an argument with him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

He rubbed her shoulders and nodded, “Ok just breath for a second, babe. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would bother you this much. I just.. I wanted you to have a serene, safe place to live and work while you’re there a-and I wasn’t gonna ask you to pay because money wasn’t a factor when I chose it. I just want you to be comfortable while we’re there.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She knew she shouldn’t push him on the finances piece so much. But she refused to ever let a man hold her livelihood over her head again. Where she laid her head was important and even though she stayed at Michael’s most of the time, she could at least retreat to her home if she ever needed it. She did not want the only place she had to lay her head to be not in her control at all.

“Look, I-I appreciate it. That place is beautiful a-and perfect. I love it, truly. But… t-this is the first time I’m living with a guy since Shaun a-and the a-amount of times he held t-the fact that it w-was his h-house instead of mine o-over me…” she exhaled deeply as if she could release the memories into the air with her breath. “I-If I d-don’t contribute something then it’ll be your house and not ours. I k-know you don’t need it o-or want it. But I need it. I need it to feel like I have an equal claim to it. Please.”

At that, Michael decided not to push any further. He understood her triggers were real and legitimate and if it gave her a sense of autonomy and control to pay him, he would not let his ego get in the way of that.

“Understood. I’m sorry,” he kissed her cheek. “I didn’t think about that. This’ll be our home and I want you to feel like it. How about you deal with all the utilities and I get the rent?”

She could not help but laugh a bit at his “compromise.” “Those things aren’t comparable at all, babe,” she muttered.

“Monetarily? Nah. But what’s the point of an apartment without lights, wifi, gas, water?” he listed. “All of those are necessities too and without them, this would be a pretty terrible apartment.”

They squared off for a moment before she nodded, realizing he budged about as far as he was willing to on the subject.

“Deal.”

“We came to an agreement, yes. But don’t think for a second I like it. Anytime you wanna accept that 50/50 split, let me know.”

Michael gave her a peck on the nose.

“Not gonna happen. Let me treat you to this one thing, baby. But what could happen is us christening some of this furniture?” His eyebrow raised suggestively, his intentions clear in his words.

Charlotte smiled slyly. “I like the sound of that… if we start with the counter.”

***

“Charlotte. Baby. Stop eating your breakfast like it’s a drive by. Sit, relax, and eat. You got plenty of time. Don’t have to be there for another hour.”

Charlotte nearly catapulted out of bed that morning, a wrecking ball of nervous energy flitting around their apartment. Michael did not know how she was moving so quickly and chaotically, since all she did was toss and turn the night before. And as soon as the Sun was up, she was out of bed and out on a run through the neighborhood. And when she returned, their bed quickly turned into a wreckage of clothes, the young woman changing her outfit no less than 10 times.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Michael asked as Charlotte forced herself to sit at the island and eat Michael’s apple cinnamon pancakes, her favorite, and a couple pieces of bacon. Though this was her favorite breakfast meal, she found it difficult to eat, believing her time would be better served practicing or running her lines again rather than just sitting there.

She scratched her head as she stuffed her face quickly, her eyes zooming across her sheet music. “Couple hours. Lots of tossing and turning before I just gave up and reviewed the music again.”

Michael laughed, “You know every song by heart, even the ones that aren’t yours. You’re gonna be great today.”

She shrugged. “I don’t feel like it.” She glanced at her watch and bit her lip before abandoning her half eaten breakfast. “Thanks for this, Bakari, but I think I should go practice the songs one more time. The run in the Act I closer is fuckin’ killing me. I can’t get it just right a-and if Chris has us practice that part today, I don’t want to look stupid.” She paused her ranting to practice the chorus and run right there as she paced by the counter. She sounded flawless in Michael’s opinion but he could tell she hated it the way her whole face scrunched up in frustration. “See? Can’t get it. But you know… maybe I should practice my ballad first though… it would make sense he’d want to start there since it’s earlier in the show. Do I have time to do both…” She was no longer talking to Michael, only rambling and muttering to herself as her questions about which song to use her precious last few minutes to practice started to become inter spliced with actual lyrics from the songs as she studied the music while she walked through their home. “Babe! Have you seen my script?? Maybe I should run through all my lines for Act 1?” She checked her watch. “I s-should’ve used the time last night to do that. UGH.”

Her incoherent stream of consciousness and half singing were interrupted by Michael who put himself in the path of Hurricane Charlotte and their bedroom. Her favorite room to practice in was the bathroom because the acoustics were the best in the house. Imagine his confusion and slight amusement when, the first thing she did when they arrived after throwing her bags down, she started singing her ballad in every single room to test the sound quality before deciding the bathroom was the best option.

It had not been 24 hours yet and he already learned one critical thing about her: she was a perfectionist chaotic nutcase. He had never seen this “behind the scenes” look into her process and work ethic. When they worked on Creed, she showed up to set every day the picture of an actor, in the zone, focused, and ready to work. He had never seen what it took to get to that picture and it was a perfect frenzy that he could not hope to understand or follow if he tried.

And still, he found that her perfectionist nature that drove all the practice and ramblings only made him fall deeper in love with her. He imagined this is what he looked like to his friends and family when he was prepping for a role, so much energy and time spent to become someone else and embody their souls and personas. So much attention to detail and time rehearsing to give each moment in front of the camera your all. This was so much like that, and yet so much harder because Charlotte could not just yell cut to redo something. Every night she got on that stage, she had one opportunity to show her talent at its fullest. He could completely understand why she pushed herself as hard as she did.

“Honeybee… you gotta calm down. No more practicing,” he grabbed the sheet music out of her hand, Charlotte offering mild protests as he walked to her bag and slid them inside, secretly adding a little card of his own. “You still have weeks of rehearsals. Keep doing this and you’ll lose your voice,” he warned, his lips twitching from the laugh he forced himself to stifle at the look of objective horror on her face, as if she had never even considered that was a possibility. But he imagined for her, losing her voice was the worst type of illness she could have. “Exactly. Rest the vocals for a bit. Sit, finish your breakfast and we’ll drive to the theater together.”

With his hands on her hips, he steered her back to the island for the third time that morning and watched her sit down to resume eating, this time far slower and more measured.

“You don’t gotta take me like a child headed to kindergarten for the first day, dad,” she bemused with a soft smile. “I’ll be good.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

She nodded, talk of Michael’s plans for the day filled the rest of breakfast before she grabbed her bag, filled with her script, sheet music, and mid-day snack. Michael had to stop her from triple checking her bag before he slid a perfectly made chai in her hands and ushered her out the door.

He kept his hand on hers as their driver took them the short ride to Abernathy Theater. She had not told Michael but she had performed in this very theater in her very first Broadway production out of college. It felt like a full circle moment to be back there.

“Ok, this is it, babe. You got this,” he kissed her on the lips. “Can’t wait to hear all about it tonight.”

“Thanks, love. See you tonight.” She took a deep breath before gathering her things and exiting the car.

Charlotte glanced back at the black car before she opened the theater door, the window rolled down, to find Michael giving her a thumbs up as if he knew she would need an extra push to walk through the door. She knew her nerves were somewhat foolish. She had spent the better part of her life in theaters and on the stage. And yet, she still felt like a fish outta water. So much time had passed, so much life had happened. Chris thought she still had what it took but would everyone else? She had given up this dream. And though she had never admitted this out loud, she felt so much shame for how easily she had casted it aside and resigned to leaving it to die behind her. As she walked through the theater, her first time in one in over two years, she questioned whether she even deserved this second chance at it after she had squandered the first one, regardless of her reasoning for doing so.

But now as she walked through the theater, taking in the opulence of the insanely tall ceilings and their perfectly preserved murals, the dazzling gold arches and trims, and the sea of ruby-colored seats, she knew one fact to be true. No one and nothing would tear her away from this dream this time. She had breathed new life into it and she would not lose it again.

“Charlotte!”

Her visual survey was interrupted by Chris who waved at her from the stage. She smiled and made quick work of making her way to the stage where he waited.

“It’s so good to see you,” he mused, pulling her into a tight hug. “The rest of the cast is trickling in. But I wanted to show you around personally and introduce you to everyone. I’ll take you backstage.”

He looped his arm around hers and led her backstage, the two laughing and chatting like old friends as he took her around and introduced her to everyone. He was showing her her dressing room when a familiar man’s voice filled her ears.

“The prodigal daughter of Broadway returns… You know I took bets on when you’d be back.”

Charlotte whipped around to find Malcolm Roberts, one of her costars, leaning against the doorway, his usual sly smirk etched on his face.

She sauntered up to him, a similar smirk falling on her face. “And? Is the Tony award winning Malcolm Roberts poorer or richer these days?”

“Richer…” At her surprised expression, he shrugged. “I learned a long time ago to always bet on you.”

She laughed and immediately pulled him into a tight hug, the man lifting her feet slightly off the ground.

“It’s so good to see you. I owe you dinner so you can catch me up on everything,” he said as they hugged. “You look amazing, still as gorgeous as ever.”

Malcolm had been in her last production before she moved. She followed his career after leaving theater and his star had only risen higher and higher, as he deserved. And now, he would be playing directly alongside her and she couldn’t have been more pleased. If there was one person she trusted undoubtedly to act alongside, besides Michael, it would be Malcolm.

“Thank you! Should’ve known Chris would call in the heavyweight champ,” she laughed.

He merely shrugged. “A friend calls and I answer. That's how he got you outta hibernation too?” He asked as they walked to the practice room for rehearsal, their banter drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the team as they worked to build the set and gathered props around them.

“Naturally. One day you’ll have to tell us how you convince everyone to do whatever you want?” Charlotte told Chris who merely smiled slyly.

“Win me another Tony and I’ll tell all my secrets.”

The two actors glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. “As if you need anymore!”

“Does your house even have room for another one and that big head of yours?” Malcolm teased as Charlotte snorted.

“Well, my partner says I can’t convert the kids’ room to a trophy room. So I guess when you two are done sweeping, I’ll have to buy a new house.” He winked at the both of them before grabbing his assistant director to chat, leaving Malcolm and Charlotte alone.

“How was the move?” He asked as he interlaced his arm with Charlotte’s as they walked.

“Oh totally fine. Michael took care of everything, of course. All I did was say yes or no.”

“Ah yes, the new boyfriend, aka my wife and sister’s celebrity crush. Remind me never to invite the two of you over for dinner?” Charlotte let out a deep belly laugh. “But I’m glad to hear it. Looks like you found yourself a good one?”

“Yea… I think I did.”

She raised her eyebrow as he stopped walking to study her for a moment, his face drawn up in a look of pride and something else she could not place. Understanding? Knowing? She could not read it. However, before she could ask him, he merely patted her hand, which rested on his arm and said, “Well no one deserves that more than you.”

Before she could inquire more, they arrived at their rehearsal space, each of them settling into their spots. Chris did quick work of introducing Charlotte to everyone else who she hadn’t met and embarrassing her with his praise. She was thankful when it was all over and everyone started to pull out their scripts and sheet music to run through Act I.

As she pulled out her materials, a small card fell out of the stack and onto the table. She picked it up and examined the card, Honey Bee written out on the front in Michael’s handwriting. She half listened to Chris share notes and information from the last rehearsal as she slid the stationary out of its envelope.

I would say good luck but I know you don’t need it. You’re gonna kill it, as you always do, and remind everyone there today and in this world, who you are. Take a deep breath and remember you, not only deserve this moment but, you were made for it.

Love,

Your biggest fan

If she had not been in a room filled with people, she would have bursted into tears. She slid the note back in her bag after reading it once more and taking the deep breath he instructed her to. She grabbed her phone as the cast started the table read and sent a quick but simple text.

Thank you ♥️♥️

She knew she did not need to elaborate and that he would recognize the meaning. Not a whole minute passed before her phone buzzed with a similar simplistic response.

Anytime.

***

A month later

“Oof, that’s it. That’s the right spot,” Charlotte moaned as Michael massaged her aching limbs. “You got the magic touch, baby.” Her eyes lulled closed as he did the Lord’s work, kneading and massaging the tense spots on her legs and back after another long day of rehearsals. "First show is in two days and I can barely feel my legs.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of her spine before continuing his work.

Though Charlotte did not mind the quiet, the silence that settled over them both as he worked, she found it odd. Most evenings, she and Michael never stopped talking, the pair catching the other up on any and everything from the moment she walked into the door until the moment they fell asleep. However, today, Michael’s head seemed to be elsewhere.

“You ok?” She inquired.

“Y-Yea, yea. I’m good.”

She laughed. “I know you well enough to know when you’re good, Bakari. What’s wrong?” She gestured for him to move so she could sit up. She slid her robe over her nude body and slid into his lap.

“I just had an interesting call with Ryan today.”

“Oh? Got another project for you?”

“Actually, yea.”

She motioned for more details, unsure why he was being so coy and secretive. “Ok… you gotta give me more than that, babe. What’s the role? And why are you acting like he threatened to kill you?”

“It’s a Marvel project.”

Her eyes immediately grew wide. She gracefully tumbled out of his lap and onto her knees, excitement filling her previously lethargic body. While she had only just started to get into anime thanks to Michael, both of them bonded over their love for comics. Growing up with her brother, she and Jackson spent far too much time in the comic book store and she made a point to see every Marvel movie that came out.

“It’s Black Panther, isn’t it??” She squealed, her excitement radiating off of her.

“How’d you guess that so fast??”

She scoffed and smiled. “Marvel’s been talking to Black directors for months for that project. A-and Civil War is coming out soon with Chadwick. Ohh,” she shook his shoulders. “You HAVE to do it, baby.”

He laughed, getting up to go into their in-suite bathroom. “You don’t even know what the role is, love.”

She shrugged, following behind him with an extra pep in her step. She did not understand how he wasn’t more excited about this.

“I mean I could sit here and go through all the Black Panther comic lore if you’d like and guess. But that’ll just make you horny,” she teased, knowing Michael got a little too excited when she put on her nerdy hat and talked comics. “And my legs hurt too much for acrobatics with you today. Why aren’t you excited? You said yes, right?? He wouldn’t’ve called unless the role was yours.”

He pushed himself up to sit on the bathroom counter. “I want to say yes, the role is fantastic a-and his vision is spectacular. I s-spent the whole day reading up on the character and everything. It would be a game changer for sure.”

“Of course it would. But I sense a but coming?” Her hands inched up his warm bare chest and wrapped around his neck as she stood between his legs.

“I’d have to go back to LA for a couple days to screen test with Chad and a couple of the other confirmed actors, meet with the execs… and between Kevin Feige’s schedule, Ryan’s and Chadwick’s… only one week before like June works for everyone.”

At the annoyed and guilty look on his face, Charlotte immediately understood. “Opening weekend of the show?” She prayed she was wrong but at the small nod, she let out a disgruntled sigh.

“Yea. A-and I don’t want to miss that, Els. It’s such a big deal and I moved here to be all in on us and support you. I asked Ryan if we could find a different date or if we could do something out here instead but I dunno yet. I didn’t want to mention it because I didn’t want to disappoint you if it’s not a sure thing.”

“Babe. I so appreciate you and that you even thought to consider me and the show before saying yes. But you can’t put your career on hold for me. This is the MCU, babe, I would miss opening night of my own show for Kevin Feige. You have to go.”

Michael’s jaw almost unhinged at her statement. That was not what he was expecting at all. And when he searched her face for a hint of disappointment or sadness, he failed to find any. Her joy for him was natural and authentic, not the forced type people give when they are trying to hide their own emotions.

“What??”

“I’m joking,” she amended but she quickly shook her head. “Actually I’m not. I would totally ditch schmoozing investors and the nausea of waiting for reviews for Marvel,” she laughed. “Seriously though, I’m gonna be doing 8 shows a week for months. You’ll see me on stage so many times, you’ll get sick of my voice and the show. You don’t have to be there opening night to support me. Honestly, I’d rather have you there the first night of previews in a couple days so you can see me on stage for the first time anyway. Opening night is only a big deal in that critics can finally review the show. And there’s a party for the cast and producers and investors and all that shit. You moved across the country to support me. That’s all I need.”

She walked back into their bedroom and grabbed his phone, her slippers shuffling lightly against the floor as she went.. She held it out to him. “Call Ryan.”

“Babe… I just don’t feel right abandoning you on such a big night.”

She tilted her head to study him. She found that she was not just saying those words because she knew she should not stop him from pursuing an opportunity. She actually meant it. Now that she was back in the swing of things, her anxiety had eased quite a bit. It had only been a few weeks but she had not seen or heard a peep out of Shaun, her promo for the show being reduced to one mention in a Broadway.com article, thankfully. And she knew she would have to handle a few days here and there without him before they got there. It was still early so she was still beyond thankful to have him there, but she could survive a couple days without him if he was needed elsewhere.

“You aren’t abandoning me. You’re following your dreams, you’re moving your career forward. Ryan picked you, the role is yours. Meeting with the execs and a couple screen tests are the only hurdles you gotta clear. And you shouldn't put that off. Would I love to look out into that crowd and see you opening night, sure. But would I prefer to see you snag a killer role in what is already a highly anticipated project, 100%. I know you’ll be there in spirit.”

“You sure you aren’t gonna secretly hate me?”

“I could never hate you. Besides, shit like this is gonna happen… we’re both two busy body ass actors. We aren’t always gonna be able to be there physically but I know you’ll be cheering me on as I will for you.”

His phone still hovered in her hand between them, Charlotte giving him an cocky grin before unlocking it and finding Ryan’s number for him.

“You sure?”

“I’m giving you the push you gave me. Call him and tell him he’s got his Killmonger. Hopefully he doesn’t bust your fuckin’ ear drums like Chris did mine.”

His eyes grew wide. “How’d you do that shit?? I never even said his name.”

She chuckled as she turned to walk back into their room, her shoulders shrugged. “It was a lucky guess… that you just confirmed,” she smirked at him. “Now…” she sexily allowed her robe to open and slide off her shoulders, the silk fabric pooling to the floor around her feet. “Don’t stay on the phone with him too long.”

He raised an eyebrow suggestively, his thumb hovering over the call button. “I thought you were too tired?”

She shrugged. “Consider it the last bit of encouragement you need to make that call.” She winked at him before sauntering off to their bed, delighting in the way his eyes followed her perfect ass as she climbed onto their bed.

***

“Well, I think that part could use a bit more emotion from both of us?” Charlotte remarked as she and Malcolm reviewed their notes from earlier in the day.

The stage was filled with chaos as many in the company practiced off to one side while the staging and lighting folks tried to get everything ready for their last rehearsal before previews started the next evening. Rebecca and Jonathan, the supporting actors in the play, were tucked in a corner just like Malcolm and Charlotte reviewing their lines.

“For sure. We shouldn’t hold back. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years. All that pent up aggression and anger and hurt… it really should feel like something is simmering beneath the surface and then an explosion on stage before the number.”

Before Charlotte could agree with him and practice a bit more, Chris’s voice grabbed their attention.

“Heads up, everyone! So don’t hate me. But a lot of the investors can’t make previews tomorrow night but they want a peek before opening night so they asked if they could sit in on rehearsal after the producers’ meeting happening upstairs. Should be wrapping up in about 15 minutes. So we will have a small but mighty,” he emphasized, “Audience today. So everyone should give this their all and we’re gonna do it in our costumes. Go get changed. Sorry for the change of plans.”

Light mumbles and grumbles could be heard through the company as everyone filed back into their dressing rooms. Charlotte and Malcolm merely shared a smirk, the actor whispering to Charlotte, “The investors and producers say jump…”

“And we say ‘how high?” she grimaced with an eye roll before shutting the door to her dressing room. This was the only part of her job she hated, schmoozing people whose only credentials for being there was the hefty check they wrote. Charlotte’s outfit was quick work, a simple dress, cardigan, and heels so it did not take long for her to change.

She sang a few chords to herself, warming up her voice, while she waited for the backstage cue to return to the wings of the stage. When the lights flashed, she made her way to the wings, stopping by Malcolm who had his face drawn up in a grimace. She was thankful to find another actor who also hated the politics of it all. She followed his line of sight to the parted curtains, revealing center stage where Chris stood with a group of men in suits. They quickly reminded her of all of the men she met at Shaun's office parties and events, her distaste had not changed. Most of their backs were turned to them until Chris noticed the entire company was assembled and waiting and waved them over.

“Let the jumping begin,” Malcolm moaned lightly as they all started walking toward the group of powerful and wealthy men.

“And these are the stars of our show, Charlotte Bennett, Malcolm Roberts, Rebecca Sloan, and Jonathan Rivers,” Chris gestured toward all of them, the group turning around to greet them.

However, the bright smile that Charlotte put on as she pulled on her dazzling actress persona immediately fell as her eyes locked with one of the men. Her movements halted, her entire body going cold and rigid as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on her.

Everything around her went silent as if someone had pressed the mute button, she could not even hear her pounding heart in her ears. But she could feel it, beating against her rib cage as it threatened to burst out of her chest. She forgot where she was, who she was, as he offered her a menacing and knowing smirk.

Instinctively, she took a step back, increasing the distance between them as the rest of the cast continued forward to introduce themselves. Only one person noticed her change in demeanor, her low, shallow breaths that were drowned out by pleasantries and greetings.

Malcolm touched her shoulder, Charlotte almost jumping out of her skin with shock, finally taking her eyes off of a man she never expected to see here of all places, in her safe space.

“You good? Look like you saw a ghost,” he chuckled nervously, though his eyes were filled with concern.

Her mouth felt bone dry, the words caught in her throat but she forced them out anyway.

“No, no. Not a g-ghost. J-just…” she shook her head. “I… um, just need a minute? Tell C-Chris I’m r-running to the b-bathroom. N-not feeling great.”

She turned and rushed out of the theater, her legs carrying her as fast as they could without breaking into an all out run until she found herself near a concession stand in the deserted lobby. She needed as much distance as she could between herself and him. She stopped and leaned against the counter, her hand pressed into her chest as she tried to calm herself. She wondered if she would have rather seen an actual ghost. That would have been less terrifying than what awaited her back in that theater, a different monster haunting her from her past.

Shaun Parker.

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A/N: So good news… we got some fluff!! Bad news… some niggas we don't like have found their way back. Thanks for reading! *drops this off and runs away*

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