#Projector for Backyard

[disorganizedkitten]

Purely because I’ve seen you reblog fanart for it before and I am Curious: ever heard of Casino Cups?

the only knowledge I have of casino cups comes from @xshimaeraxx who's in two of my discord servers and rambles in the writing channels about their aus.

So I can recognize about 6 characters, I believe, and catch enough on sight to go "oh if that was reblogged by someone other than xshimaeraxx I should tag them"

[marinetti-dinner-party]

the njp imploded and the tiktok teens have found alfred alfer

emily youcis it looks like you gotta be the breadwinner of the haushold now. your rosacea cretin husband will no longer be able to pull his weight.

[kayyteea]

Late night, good friends, stellar vibes.

[reiding-writing]

cold!reader used to work with VCAC? the idea that she's good with children despite just hating everyone is so funny to me

would you consider writing a fic where the BAUs main witness is a kid and cold reader is the only person to get through to them? and then the kid becomes like super attached and the rest of the team is just like 'hm, strange' because they never expected her to be good with kids? thank you!

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

A family annihilator who's killed three families in two months makes a fatal mistake. He leaves behind a witness, a child, and she's the only one that can help solve the case.

s10!cold!reader ❅ 10.0k ❅ series masterlist. ❅ main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, violence against children, mentions of trauma and ptsd, you do not know how tempted i was to kill this child but i didn’t

The scent of burnt coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the sterile chill of the air conditioning.

The conference room is dim, the overhead lights casting a dull glow against the crime scene photos spread across the table. Three families, their faces smiling in old photographs, juxtaposed with the horror of their final moments.

You sit stiffly in your chair, arms crossed, watching as Hotch stands at the head of the table. His expression is unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders speaks for itself.

The team is silent as he clicks to the next slide on the projector, displaying the most recent crime scene. Blood splatters across beige carpet. A broken picture frame. A child's shoe, left in the doorway.

“This is our unsub's third family in six weeks,” Hotch says, his voice steady but heavy. “All killed in their own homes, in the middle of the night. No signs of forced entry, no clear connection between the families. Each time, he’s managed to evade security cameras and forensic evidence. He’s methodical, careful, and fast.”

“Spree killer tendencies, but controlled,” Spencer interjects from across the table. His fingers drum against the tabletop as he speaks. “He escalates quickly, but there’s no erratic behaviour at the scenes. He’s not disorganised—he knows exactly what he’s doing,”

“Until now,” JJ murmurs. She leans forward, her brows drawn together, eyes fixed on the next image—a little girl. The survivor.

She’s small, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, pressed into the corner of what looks like a hospital bed. A police officer stands nearby, talking to her, but there’s no recognition in her eyes. She looks… empty.

“She got away,” Emily says, glancing at Hotch. “How?”

“The unsub killed her parents and older brother before she managed to escape through a back door,” he explains. “The neighbours called 911 when they heard screaming. By the time officers arrived, the house was quiet, and the suspect was gone. She was found hiding in their backyard shed.”

“A survivor,” Morgan says, shaking his head. “That changes things. This guy has a pattern—he wipes out the entire family unit. That means she wasn’t supposed to make it out alive,”

“Which means he might try again,” Rossi adds grimly.

A beat of silence. The weight of the statement settles over the room like thick fog.

“Local PD has had no luck getting her to talk,” Hotch continues. “She hasn’t said a word about what happened. Refuses to answer questions. She’s traumatised, barely verbal, and right now, she’s under police protection until we can confirm if she has any extended family who can take her in.”

You shift in your seat, already sensing where this is going. A slow dread creeps up your spine as Hotch’s gaze flickers toward you.

“We need to get through to her,” he says. “She’s the only witness we have, and if the unsub left anything behind—a name, a face, a detail—she’s the only one who can give it to us.”

His words hang in the air for a second too long. You feel everyone’s eyes move toward you.

And then Hotch says it.

“I want you to talk to her.”

You inhale sharply, jaw tightening. "Hotch—"

“You have a PhD in Psychology,” he cuts in smoothly, as if he already anticipated your pushback. “And your time in VCAC makes you the most qualified person here to work with child victims.”

The mention of VCAC makes your stomach twist. You fight the urge to grimace.

“I moved to the BAU for a reason,” you remind him, keeping your voice measured. “Children can be… difficult. Especially ones dealing with trauma this severe. She’s not just going to start talking because I ask her to.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “But if anyone can get her to open up, it’s you.”

Silence stretches between you.

You don’t want to do this.

You hate working with kids. Not because you don’t care, but because they feel too much.

They cry, they panic, they cling, and their emotions are messy—unpredictable in ways adults rarely are.

You spent years in VCAC, watching helpless children break apart under the weight of their own trauma, and it wore you down in ways you never admitted.

That’s why you left.

You’re not the nurturing type. You don’t coddle, you don’t reassure with empty promises, and you don’t have the patience for endless sobs and incomprehensible explanations.

And yet.

You glance at the image of the little girl again. She looks so small. So completely alone.

No one else in this room is going to be able to reach her. And if she doesn’t talk, if she doesn’t tell you what she saw—

The unsub will keep killing.

You exhale slowly, forcing the tension out of your shoulders.

“Fine,” you say finally. “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Hotch nods. “Wheels up in 30.”

The meeting disperses, chairs scraping against the floor as the team gathers their things. You stay seated for a moment, staring at the blurred-out image of the girl on the screen.

A hand brushes against your arm.

You look up to see Spencer standing beside you, concern flickering in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You almost say yes, but stop yourself. Instead, you shrug.

“It’s just… not my favourite thing to do,” you admit, voice quieter than usual.

He nods, as if he understands. Maybe he does.

“You’ll be good at it,” he says. No hesitation. No doubt. Just quiet certainty.

For some reason, that makes your chest tighten.

You swallow, push back your chair, and stand.

“Let’s hope so,” you mutter, grabbing your case file.

And then you follow the team out the door.

—

The jet touches down in Minnesota under a dull, overcast sky, the kind that promises rain but never quite delivers. The air outside is biting, cold enough that you pull your coat tighter around you as the team steps off the plane.

The local PD is already waiting for you on the tarmac, their unmarked cars idling, exhaust curling into the frigid air. Hotch exchanges quick introductions, then splits the team without hesitation.

“Rossi—you’re with me at the latest crime scene. JJ, you’ll work with the department’s media liaison to handle the press. Morgan, Prentiss, you’re going to the ME’s office to go over autopsy findings.”

His gaze lands on you. “You’re going to the station to talk to the girl.”

You nod, ignoring the way your stomach tightens at the assignment.

“I’ll go with her,” Spencer says, stepping forward.

Hotch gives him a brief look, then nods. “Keep me updated.”

You don’t say anything as you and Spencer break off from the group, climbing into the backseat of a waiting squad car. The officer driving doesn’t speak much, just gives you a curt nod before pulling out onto the highway.

You spend the drive flipping through the case file, rereading the details you already know.

The survivor’s name is Madelyn Carter. Eight years old. No prior history of abuse or neglect. No suspicious activity leading up to the night of the murders. A completely normal kid—until the night she lost everything.

The police reports are frustratingly sparse. Non-verbal. Unresponsive to questioning. Won’t engage.

You tap your fingers against the file, jaw tight. She’s just a child, but already, you can feel the weight of the challenge ahead of you.

The police station is small, tucked into a sleepy suburban district, the kind of place that probably never sees much worse than drunk and disorderly charges.

But today, it’s buzzing with quiet tension.

You and Spencer are led to a small interview room at the end of the hallway. The walls are a washed-out shade of blue, meant to be calming, but the effect is ruined by the harsh fluorescent lighting.

And there, curled up on a chair too big for her, is Madelyn.

She’s impossibly small, arms wrapped around herself, knees drawn up to her chest. Her hair is tangled at the ends, her clothes a size too big, probably donated by someone at the station. A stuffed rabbit sits limply in her lap, its fur worn and patchy.

She doesn’t look up when you walk in.

The officer standing in the corner—a middle-aged woman with tired eyes—gives you a look that’s equal parts sympathy and frustration.

“She hasn’t said a word since we brought her in,” she murmurs.

You nod, but your focus is on the girl.

You know better than to overwhelm her right away, so you take your time settling into the chair across from her. No sudden movements. No clipped, authoritative tone. Just careful, deliberate quiet.

“Hi, Madelyn,” you say gently.

She doesn’t acknowledge you.

That’s fine. You expected this.

You shift slightly in your seat, keeping your posture relaxed as you introduce yourself to her. “I’m a Doctor, I’m going to try and help you,”

Still nothing.

You glance at Spencer, who watches the interaction closely, hands tucked into the pockets of his cardigan.

“That’s a nice bunny,” you say, nodding toward the stuffed animal in her lap.

Madelyn doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flick her eyes toward you. She just tightens her grip on the rabbit, her small fingers curling into its worn fur.

You exhale slowly, adjusting your approach.

“I used to have one kind of like that when I was little,” you continue, keeping your voice soft, conversational. “Mine was a bear, though. His name was Theo. I took him everywhere.”

Nothing.

Not surprising, but frustrating nonetheless.

You lean back slightly in your chair, glancing at Spencer, who watches the exchange with quiet patience.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs under his breath, just for you to hear. “Just be patient,”

You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “She hasn’t said a word, Spencer.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not listening,”

You don’t respond, but his words linger in your mind as you turn back to Madelyn.

She’s still curled up, still silent, but you notice the way her fingers twitch slightly against the rabbit’s ear. It’s a small movement, but it tells you one thing, she’s aware of you.

That’s something.

You decide to change tactics. Instead of talking, you lean forward, resting your arms on the table between you. Then you take out your notepad and a pen, clicking it open.

Madelyn doesn’t look up, but you catch the smallest flicker of movement in her posture—curiosity.

Good.

You start to doodle. Simple things. A flower, a star, little patterns in the margins.

Still nothing from her.

But when you glance up a few minutes later, her eyes are on the notepad.

Just for a second. But she was looking.

You resist the urge to smile. Instead, you gently slide the notepad across the table toward her, placing the pen on top.

“You can draw something, if you want,” you say simply. “You don’t have to, but sometimes it helps.”

Madelyn doesn’t react immediately. But then, slowly—so slowly—her fingers twitch again, and she reaches out.

She doesn’t grab the pen. But she touches it.

Your heart stutters slightly in your chest.

Progress.

You let her take her time. You don’t push, don’t rush. You just watch as her tiny fingers trace the edge of the pen absently.

You glance at Spencer again, and his expression is warm. Encouraging.

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice gentle.

“Do you like stories, Madelyn?”

She doesn’t answer.

But after a moment, she nods. Barely. But it’s a nod.

You share a look with Spencer, and for the first time since walking into this room, you feel the smallest spark of hope.

She’s in there.

You just have to find a way to bring her out.

—

You don’t know how long you sit there, watching Madelyn’s fingers trace absent shapes against the edge of the pen. Time moves strangely in moments like this—slow and thick, like wading through molasses.

Spencer stays quiet, offering his presence but not overwhelming the space. You appreciate it more than you’d ever admit.

Madelyn doesn’t speak. But she nods. And she touches the pen.

That’s more than you had ten minutes ago.

So you build on it.

“You like stories,” you say, keeping your voice soft. “What kind of stories?”

No response.

You lean back slightly. “I like mysteries.” A pause. “Not the scary kind, though. More like… puzzles. Things that make you think.”

Nothing at first. But then—so subtle you almost miss it—Madelyn shifts. It’s small, just the faintest movement of her shoulders, but it’s acknowledgment.

Encouraged, you try again.

“I think you might be really good at puzzles,” you say casually. “The way you were looking at my drawings earlier—that was you figuring things out, right?”

She still doesn’t answer, but this time, you catch the way she avoids your gaze, like she’s fighting the urge to react.

She’s engaged. Even if she won’t admit it yet.

So you take another risk.

“Do you want to play a game?”

That gets her attention. Not fully, but her head tilts just slightly—like she’s listening more closely.

You grab the notepad again, flipping to a fresh page.

“It’s really simple,” you tell her. “I draw something, and you guess what it is. If you guess right, it’s your turn to draw something for me.”

You don’t expect an immediate response, so you keep moving. You draw a cat. Just a simple, messy sketch, the kind a kid might do. Then you slide the notepad back toward her and wait.

Silence.

You don’t push.

Then, after an agonising pause—Madelyn reaches for the pen.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at you.

But she writes one word in the space beneath your drawing.

Cat.

Something in your chest unclenches.

“Yeah,” you say, voice even softer than before. “It’s a cat.”

Madelyn’s fingers tighten around the pen.

Then—hesitant, almost reluctant—she starts to draw.

It’s shaky, unsure, but after a moment, you recognise it.

A rabbit. Her stuffed animal.

You don’t rush to answer. You let the moment sit, giving her control.

Finally, you say, “Is it your bunny?”

Madelyn nods.

Not small. Not hesitant. A real, full nod.

Your breath catches. Spencer’s posture shifts beside you, like he can feel the significance of it, too.

You’ve got her.

—

It takes another hour before she agrees to talk.

You don’t push her. You keep playing, keep gently pulling her out of the dark space she’s been locked in. She tells you her bunny’s name is Milo, that he’s red because it’s her favourite colour, about things that don’t hurt to answer.

She tells you her friends call her Maddie. You ask if you can. She agrees.

And slowly, carefully, she leans into it.

Finally, when the moment feels right, you set your pen down.

“Maddie,” you say gently. “I need to ask you about what happened that night.”

Immediately, she shrinks in on herself.

You don’t reach for her. Don’t move too fast.

“I know it’s scary,” you continue. “And I know it hurts to think about. But you’re the only one who knows what he looks like.”

Her grip on Milo tightens.

You lean forward slightly. “I want to stop him,” you say. “I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. But I can’t do that without your help.”

She’s trembling. But she’s listening.

Spencer speaks for the first time in a while, his voice quiet but steady.

“We can do it in a way that’s not so scary,” he tells her. “You don’t have to remember everything at once. We can do it piece by piece, and you can stop whenever you want.”

Maddie hesitates.

Then, after a long, agonising pause—she nods.

You take a slow breath.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Let’s do this together.”

—

The cognitive interview is exhausting. For her, for you, for everyone in the room.

You guide her through it carefully—asking her to picture the house, to focus on what she remembers before things got bad.

She whispers about the TV being on. About how her brother was playing a game on his tablet. About how her dad was in the kitchen, and her mom was upstairs.

Then—the noise.

Something breaking.

Screaming.

Maddie shakes violently, curling in on herself, and you immediately pull back.

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “You’re safe. You’re here with us.”

She nods, but her breath is coming too fast, her body trembling too much.

Spencer places a gentle hand on your arm, meeting your gaze. You understand what he’s asking. Back off. Give her a moment.

So you do.

You wait.

Finally, she whispers, “He—he was big,”

You go still.

She’s talking about him.

You nod encouragingly. “Okay. Big. Can you tell me anything else?”

A shaky breath.

“H-he had a… a hat.”

You glance at Spencer, who’s already jotting this down in the case file.

Maddie’s voice is barely audible.

“I think it was red.”

Your heart pounds.

Piece by piece, she tells you more. His height. His clothes. A scar on his arm.

By the time she stops, she’s crying.

You reach forward, gently—so gently—and brush a piece of hair from her face.

“You did so good, Maddie,” you tell her. “So, so good.”

She hiccups, her tiny body wracked with exhaustion.

And then—before you can react—she throws herself into your arms.

You freeze.

You’re not the nurturing type. You don’t know how to do this.

But right now, this kid trusts you in a way she doesn’t trust anyone else.

So you let her cling.

You let her cry.

And for the first time in a long time—

You don’t pull away.

—

The interview is over, but somehow, it feels like the work is just beginning.

Maddie doesn’t leave your side.

Not even for a second.

You’d thought that once the interview was done, you’d be able to hand her over to someone else—maybe the police, or someone from her extended family who was supposed to arrive soon. But instead, Maddie just… clings.

After the interview, she refuses to let go of your hand. You try to tell her she can go with one of the officers to get something to eat, but her grip tightens.

When you tell her it’s time for you to go back to work, she just looks up at you, her eyes wide with that quiet, vulnerable desperation that makes you want to soften, but you can’t.

Her tiny fingers dig into your sleeve when you stand, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You can’t blame her.

You’ve been the one who’s been there for her, the one who’s gotten her to speak, the one who’s made her feel safe for the first time in days.

But the child is persistent.

Everywhere you go, she follows. To the small break room where the team is gathering, to the bathroom when you briefly step away, back to the conference room where they’ve gathered for a case update.

She’s your shadow now.

And the team notices.

You try not to make it awkward, but it's impossible when she insists on sitting at your side, her tiny body almost engulfed by the chair next to you. Her stuffed bunny sits in her lap, its fur nearly as frayed as her nerves, but she holds it tightly. It’s like her last link to some semblance of safety.

Morgan raises an eyebrow as he walks in. “I thought we were done with the interview?”

“We are,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. “She just… she doesn’t want to leave me.”

No one teases you—at least, not directly—but there’s a quiet amusement in the air as they all take in the sight of Madelyn curled up in her oversized chair, the edges of her blanket practically touching the floor, with you sitting across from her.

Hotch is the only one who doesn’t seem particularly surprised. He’s worked with children before—he knows how attachment works, especially after trauma.

But the others? They’re bemused.

JJ glances over at you as she sips her coffee, a smile pulling at her lips. “She seems to have taken quite a liking to you,”

You tilt your head, barely acknowledging her. “I’m just doing my job.”

Maddie, of course, doesn’t let go of you, even as the case discussion begins. She stays glued to your side, her small hand clutching the sleeve of your jacket, her eyes darting from one agent to the next as they go over the details of the unsub’s pattern.

You keep your voice even, answering questions when necessary, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to focus when you feel the weight of her gaze fixed on you, like she’s waiting for something.

Spencer notices.

He’s been watching the whole scene unfold with quiet fascination, his arms crossed, his head slightly tilted, like he’s trying to puzzle out the situation. Finally, when the meeting breaks up, he sidles up next to you as you get ready to leave the conference room.

“She’s really latched onto you, huh?” he says, his voice low, but the smile tugging at his lips is evident.

You glance at him, your expression unreadable. “It’s nothing. Just transference.”

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push.

Maddie hasn’t let go of you once during the discussion, and now that it’s over, she’s still following you around, pressing close to your side as you move toward the exit.

“Are you hungry, Maddie?” you ask her gently, glancing down at her with a touch of exasperation. “You haven’t eaten, and I’m pretty sure there’s a café close to here.”

Her head nods almost imperceptibly.

Spencer watches, his eyes softening slightly as he observes the quiet bond that’s developed between the two of you. It’s not obvious at first—just the way the girl clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering her to some kind of reality.

“Maybe we can grab lunch,” he suggests, his tone more teasing than anything. “I mean, you’ve earned it. Getting the kid to open up like that? Not easy.”

You roll your eyes, though there's no malice behind it. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“You’re good at it.”

You mutter something under your breath about it not being a permanent situation, but Spencer just chuckles.

He walks with you as you lead Maddie toward the small café a few blocks away. As you cross the threshold of the restaurant, you notice the oddity of the whole situation.

It’s strange to have someone at your side like this. A small, vulnerable child who insists on being with you despite everything that happened.

The waitress gives you an odd look when you request a secluded booth, but she doesn’t say anything. You slide in, Maddie immediately beside you, her fingers still clutching your sleeve.

Spencer orders for everyone, giving Maddie a soft smile as he does. You can’t help but notice the way his expression softens around her.

“She seems to like you,” Spencer comments as you sit, his voice light but carrying a certain warmth.

You cross your arms and shoot him a glance. “What can I say? I’m just a magnet for clingy children.”

Spencer laughs quietly, but it’s warm. “You’re good with her. I think she feels safe around you. And you are good at what you do.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, but there’s something unsettlingly genuine in your voice.

Spencer raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t press you. Instead, he changes the subject, discussing the case with you as if nothing’s out of the ordinary.

But in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed.

As you eat, Maddie picks at her food, her gaze flickering from you to Spencer and back again. She looks at you with a certain familiarity, like she trusts you completely, like you’re the one person who’s made her feel safe in the whirlwind of everything that happened.

After a while, she speaks.

“Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Your fork stops halfway to your mouth. Spencer looks at you from across the table, just as surprised.

You freeze. How do you explain the whole weird mess that is your and Spencer’s relationship to an eight-year-old? How do you explain the not-together-but-kinda-together situation that doesn’t even make sense to you half the time?

So you side-step the question.

“No, sweetie,” you say, “Not quite.”

Maddie doesn’t seem disappointed by that answer. She just nods, although a little confused.

You glance at Spencer, who’s trying to hide a smile behind his cup of water.

“It’s okay to be curious,” he tells her gently.

You roll your eyes and take another bite of your food. “It's just complicated,”

Maddie shrugs, her focus shifting back to her plate. She doesn't press any further, and for a brief moment, you almost feel normal again—just two adults eating lunch with a kid. Like a proxy family.

But normal doesn’t last long. The reality is that she’s still attached to you, and you're still the one she turns to. For now, at least.

And despite all your reservations, there’s a part of you that’s starting to understand why.

—

The evening sets in with an oppressive stillness that mirrors the tension in the air.

Maddie has been tucked into a small cot, an officer stationed outside her door to ensure her safety. She’s asleep now, her face still flushed from the day’s events, her small form curled tightly under the blankets. The moment she closed her eyes, a quiet kind of peace settled in the room, but the unease in your chest hasn’t subsided.

The case isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The team has reconvened, sitting around the large conference table in the BAU’s temporary Minnesota office. The maps, photos, and notes are all spread out before you, the room filled with the usual quiet hum of focus.

They’re all working with urgency now—calculating, piecing together information, and drawing conclusions. But none of them, not even Hotch, seem willing to speak the one truth you’re certain of.

Madelyn is in danger.

It’s only a matter of time before the unsub comes back for her.

“Based on the pattern,” Hotch begins, his voice steady, “we can assume the unsub is going to strike again. He’s methodical. The way he works suggests he’s already been planning this next move. We have a window.”

You listen, but you’re not really hearing him. Your eyes are fixed on the girl’s picture—the innocent smile frozen in time, the eyes full of unspoken fear. She’s just a little girl.

“And our best bet,” Morgan continues, leaning forward as he studies the information in front of him, “is to get her back into her old house. Lure the unsub out with a setup that looks weak—something that’ll convince him to make his move.”

Your stomach churns.

“That’s what we’re doing,” Hotch affirms, his eyes briefly meeting yours. “We need to make sure he’s brought to justice, and we’re running out of time.”

You can feel it—the tension rising in your chest, suffocating you. It’s not just the decision they’re making. It’s the plan. It’s the idea that they’re considering putting Madelyn in danger again.

You can’t stay silent.

“Are you serious?” Your voice cuts through the conversation like a knife. “We’re going to use her as bait?”

There’s an edge in your tone, one you rarely let genuinely show. The room goes still, and all eyes turn toward you.

Hotch looks at you with that ever-steady gaze of his, the kind that’s usually so impenetrable, but you can see the frustration beneath it. “We don’t have many options here. If we can’t draw him out, we risk losing him completely.”

“By using a child?” You repeat the word like it’s a poison, something that doesn’t belong in the same sentence as the word justice. You stand, unable to keep still, the anger making your pulse quicken. “This isn’t some game, Hotch. This is a real little girl. She’s already been through enough. We can’t just—”

“You’re overreacting,” Morgan interjects, his voice quieter now but firm. “We’re not putting her at direct risk. The setup will be controlled, and we’ll have backup in place,”

You shake your head, the words slipping from you before you can stop them. “Controlled? How do you control something like that? How do you control what he does to her when he finds out she’s there?”

Spencer speaks up from across the room, his voice calm but carrying an underlying note of empathy. “We’re not doing this blindly. There’s a risk, yes. But we’re also talking about a chance to stop him, once and for all. This is what we do,”

You turn to him, frustration boiling in your chest. “This is not our mission. She’s not just some tool to help us find a solution to our problems. She’s a child!”

Spencer’s eyes flash for a moment, but he softens his tone, lowering his voice. “I know, but we’re doing this to protect her. We can’t just sit back and wait for him to come to her. That’s not an option anymore,”

The conversation swirls around you, their voices growing distant in your ears as the weight of the decision begins to settle over you.

The plan, the baiting, the manipulation of this little girl’s already broken world—none of it feels right. The thought of putting her in harm’s way, even with all the precautions in place, is enough to make your stomach turn.

But no one is listening to you.

And you know, in the back of your mind, that it’s already decided. They’re going to go through with it.

Hotch gives you one last look, his gaze unreadable but firm. “I understand your concern, but this is the best option we have.”

You hold his gaze for a beat, the frustration still burning in your chest, but you can’t push it anymore.

Instead, you take a breath and step back, your voice tight. “Fine. But don’t expect me to like it.”

The rest of the team doesn’t speak up—no one challenges the decision. They all know what needs to be done, even if it isn’t easy. Even if it feels wrong.

And in that moment, you realise just how far this has gone. You’re not just part of the team anymore. You’re now complicit in something that you can’t reconcile with the woman you thought you were.

—

That night, you sit at your desk, staring at the case file in front of you, though you’re not really looking at it. Your thoughts drift back to Madelyn—her fragile, trusting eyes, the way she’s clung to you all day.

You didn’t sign up for this.

Spencer walks past your desk, pausing when he sees the way you’re hunched over the case files.

“You’re really not okay with this, are you?” he asks quietly, his voice soft but knowing.

You don’t answer at first, focusing on the photo of Madelyn. Her smile, her bunny clutched tight in her hands, all of it makes you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely a whisper. “I just—I can’t believe we’re doing this to her.”

Spencer’s silence speaks volumes. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and you don’t expect him to. Finally, he leans in, his tone steady but sympathetic.

“Sometimes, we have to make hard choices,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean we forget who we’re doing it for,”

You glance up at him, meeting his eyes. There’s something in his gaze—a quiet understanding, a recognition of the struggle.

“You’ll be okay,” He hesitates before setting a hand against your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “And so will she,”

—

The silence in the room is almost oppressive. Madelyn has been tucked into her cot for the night, her small body curled into the covers as if trying to make herself as small as possible.

You’ve been avoiding looking at her, because every time you do, the weight of what you’re about to ask her presses down harder on your chest.

You know that this is necessary. You know that this is the only way to stop the unsub and give her a chance at safety. But that doesn’t make it feel any less wrong.

The plan is set. Tomorrow, they’ll use her as bait. And you, the one person she trusts in the world, are expected to stand by and watch.

It doesn’t matter that you’ll be there to protect her. It doesn’t matter that you’ll be the one closest to her. The thought of her being used like this leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that no amount of logic can cleanse.

But there’s no getting around it. The team has made their decision.

So you sit at the edge of her cot, trying to steady the storm of conflicting emotions swirling inside you. You’re the one who has to make her understand, and that terrifies you.

Maddie is lying on her side, her bunny tucked into the crook of her arm. She looks so small in the dim light, so fragile, and it hurts to see her like this.

The trauma she’s endured is still written on her face, though the interview was a step forward. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready for what’s about to happen. None of you are.

“Maddie?” you say softly, your voice quieter than usual. She doesn’t respond at first, her wide eyes flicking from her bunny to you. She’s so still, almost as though she’s bracing herself for something worse.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me,” you coax gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She hesitates for a moment, but then she turns, her face a mask of anxiety and exhaustion.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to hold her gaze. “I need to tell you something important. Do you remember what I told you earlier, about keeping you safe?”

She nods, her lips trembling. “You’re gonna stay with me?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, like she’s afraid of hearing the wrong answer.

Your heart aches. You can feel the weight of what you’re about to say hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But you can’t lie to her. Not now. She deserves the truth. Even if it breaks you to say it.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” you promise, trying to keep your voice steady. “But tomorrow… tomorrow’s going to be a little different.”

She furrows her brow, her small hands twisting the edges of her blanket. “How?”

You take a slow breath, carefully choosing your words. “Tomorrow, we’re going to do something to make sure that bad man never comes back. Something that will keep you safe. But it’s going to be a little scary, and I need you to trust me, okay?”

She looks up at you, eyes wide with apprehension. You can see her processing, the fear bubbling under the surface, trying to break through. But she doesn’t pull away. She stays there, watching you, waiting for the rest of it.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you continue. “We’re going to go to your old house, the place where all this happened, and we’re going to make it look like it did before. We’re going to have people watching from close by, and I’ll be right outside. The whole time, okay?”

Her lips tremble again, and you can see that she’s struggling to understand. The idea of going back to that house—where so much horror happened—is almost too much for her to process. You don’t blame her. You’d feel the same way.

“I won’t leave you,” you say again, making sure she hears the sincerity in your voice. “You’ll be safe, Maddie. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The trust in her eyes is palpable, but the fear is too. Her small body stiffens for a moment, and she looks down at her bunny like it’s the only thing holding her together. “What if… what if I’m scared?” she asks, her voice barely audible.

You lean in, your heart breaking just a little more. “It’s okay to be scared, But we’ll make all the scary things go away.”

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you almost feel like you’re breaking. The responsibility is too much, the pressure too great. You want so badly to pull her out of this situation, to find another way. But you can’t. You have to do this, not just for her, but for everyone who’s been affected by this unsub.

Madelyn bites her lip, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “You promise?”

You nod, your voice thick with emotion. “I promise.”

She looks at you for a long moment, as if weighing your words, trying to decide if she can trust you. And then, just as you’re starting to doubt yourself, she nods, barely perceptible. “Okay. I trust you.”

The words settle between you both, and for a moment, you feel the quiet weight of the promise you just made. This isn’t just a case anymore. It’s her. It’s her safety, her future, and you’re the one who has to make sure she’s protected.

“Good girl,” you say softly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her forehead. “You’re so brave, Maddie. I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes flicker up to you again, and this time, there’s a faint smile. It’s small, but it’s there. “I’m not scared if you’re with me.”

That’s the moment you realise: she’s not just trusting you to keep her safe. She’s trusting you to give her back a sense of control over her own life, something she hasn’t had since the night her family was taken from her. And you can’t let her down. Not now, not ever.

“I’ll be with you,” you repeat. “Every step of the way.”

And as you watch her settle back into the covers, her bunny tucked tightly under her arm, you make a silent vow to yourself that no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what you have to do, you will keep that promise.

Because no one else is going to.

Not like you will.

—

The air inside the old house is heavy with tension, each creak of the floorboards under the team’s feet amplified in the stillness.

The plan is simple. Madelyn is placed in the house, under the guise of a minimal police presence, to lure the unsub into taking the bait.

Everything has been carefully orchestrated, right down to the smallest detail. Outside, the team is positioned in hidden locations, all eyes on the house. They’re watching for any signs that the unsub is approaching, but you know they’re all thinking the same thing—you hope this works.

You’ve spent the entire day getting Maddie ready, talking her through the steps again, reassuring her that this is the right thing to do, that she’ll be okay. And, despite your own misgivings, you’re trying to convince yourself of the same thing.

You’ve promised her that you would stay by her side, and you have to see that promise through.

The door to the house is left slightly ajar, a weak police presence positioned just inside. You take your position on the floor below Maddie’s bedroom, staying close, but not so close as to be obvious. Your heartbeat is a loud thrum in your ears as the time ticks by, every minute stretching into what feels like an eternity. The silence inside the house feels like a storm waiting to break.

Then, it happens.

The motion sensor outside the house triggers, and you hear it—the unmistakable sound of someone breaching the perimeter. Your stomach lurches. The unsub is here.

It’s go-time.

The team moves in quickly, and in that same instant, you spring into action, your focus singular. Your only thought is Maddie. The unsub can be handled by the others. They’ve got it covered. But you can’t take your eyes off the one person you promised to protect. You know exactly where she is, and you don’t even hesitate to run toward her.

—

You burst into her room, your heart pounding. The light is dim, casting long shadows across the space. Maddie is standing by the window, looking outside with wide, fearful eyes. The moment she hears the door open, she turns to you, her face a mixture of confusion and terror.

She doesn’t say anything, but you can see the fear etched into her small features, the tremor in her hands as she holds the bunny close.

Without thinking, you move towards her in two quick steps. You scoop her up in your arms, holding her tight to your chest, pressing her small form into you as though you can shield her from all the horrors in the world. The weight of her trust feels heavier than ever.

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice as steady as you can make it, though it cracks just a little. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m right here. See? I told you you’d be okay.”

She clings to you, her fingers curling into your shirt. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t pull away. In this moment, she’s not just the scared little girl caught in a nightmare. She’s the child who trusted you with her safety—and that trust is all that matters.

You stroke her hair gently, trying to soothe her with the rhythm of your hand.

Your heart is racing, but you can’t afford to let that show. She’s looking up at you now, her wide eyes full of questions, full of fear that you can’t quite banish. But she trusts you. That’s enough.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you say again, even though you can’t promise it. You hold her tighter, wanting to shield her from everything outside this room, from the danger lurking just beyond the walls. You’re not thinking of the unsub anymore—only of Maddie. She’s the only thing that matters.

For a moment, everything else fades away. The outside world is a blur of movement and sound, but you are anchored in this small, dimly lit room with this little girl in your arms.

You don’t hear the team’s voices anymore, don’t hear the chase or the shouting, don’t hear anything except Maddie’s breathing against your chest. She’s calm now, her body still trembling but no longer with fear—more from the shock, the exhaustion of the night.

It’s a strange thing, the weight of her small body in your arms. There’s something deeply instinctive about it, something that stirs in you like an echo from a past you thought you’d finally buried alongside your Professor.

In this moment, holding her like this, you can’t help but think of what might have been. If you’d had that child, if you’d stayed.

What would it have been like? To raise a child of your own? To care for someone who needed you as much as she does?

The thought catches you off guard. It’s a brief moment of reflection, one that passes as quickly as it comes, but the weight of it lingers, like the fading scent of something once held close. It’s not the first time you’ve thought about it, but it’s the first time it’s felt so… real.

You quickly push the thought aside, focusing again on Maddie’s presence. Not now.

This isn’t about you. It’s about her. Always her.

“Hey,” you murmur, pulling her back slightly to look into her eyes. “You did great. You were so brave. You’re okay. It’s over now.”

Her eyes are wide, still searching your face for reassurance, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. You know that she’s still processing everything, still trying to make sense of the danger, of the chaos, of everything she’s been through in the past few days. But she’s safe now. She’s in your arms, and you’ll keep her safe for as long as it takes.

“Do you trust me?” you ask softly, even though you already know the answer.

Maddie nods, her small hand clutching tighter onto her bunny.

“Good,” you say, giving her a small but sincere smile. “Then we’ll get through this together.”

—

The storm has passed. The danger is over. Madelyn is safe. The unsub is in custody, and the team is in the clear. You’ve done your job. You’ve kept her safe, just as you promised.

But now comes the hardest part.

Her grandparents are here, having arrived just after the house was secured, the paperwork signed, and the chaos of the operation settled.

They’re older, frail but warm, and there’s a visible relief on their faces when they see their granddaughter—safe, unharmed, and sound, despite everything she’s been through.

They approach her cautiously, with a tenderness that is obvious in their every move, but it’s clear that Madelyn isn’t ready to leave yet.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to you, staring down at her hands, her bunny still clutched tightly in her grip. Her eyes flicker toward the door every now and then, but she doesn’t look up.

She can hear the voices outside—her grandparents—her family—but she’s frozen. The transition from being with you, the one person she’s come to rely on, to a completely new environment is more than she’s ready for.

You move closer, kneeling beside her. Her head doesn’t turn, but you can tell she knows you’re there. The silence between you is comfortable, not awkward, but weighted with the realisation that this is the end of the road for you both. This is where you have to let her go.

“Maddie,” you say softly, your voice a little hoarse from the long hours. “Your grandparents are here. They’re going to take you home. You’ll be safe with them.”

She doesn’t say anything, but you can see her shoulders tense, just a little. Her fingers flex against her bunny’s fur, as if trying to hold onto some sense of control, some last shred of the familiar. She’s scared. You understand that, even though she’s made it through the worst of it, she’s still just a little girl. And little girls need security. They need the things they’ve trusted, and right now, that’s you.

“I know it’s hard,” you continue, gently brushing her hair back. “But you’re going to be okay now. You’re going to be with your family. You’re not alone anymore.”

Madelyn stays quiet, but this time, she finally turns her head to look at you. Her eyes are wide and vulnerable, and it’s all you can do to hold back the swell of emotion threatening to break free. She’s asking with just a look—Can I stay? Can you keep me safe?

But you can’t. You’ve done what you promised. You can’t be her protector forever, and you both know it. She needs her family now, the people who can be there for her in ways you can’t.

“I’ll always be here if you need me,” you say, your voice steady, though your heart is anything but. “But you’ve got your grandparents now. They love you, and they’re going to take care of you. You’ll be safe with them, just like I promised you.”

Maddie looks down at her bunny again, as if deciding whether to give it up. For a long moment, she just holds it, her fingers tracing the worn fabric. You don’t push her. She needs to come to this decision herself, in her own time. But eventually, she looks up at you, and her face is as serious as it’s ever been.

“I want you to have him,” she says quietly. “He keeps me safe. Maybe he can keep you safe too.”

Your throat tightens at the simple, honest offer. The bunny—her constant companion, the thing that has been with her through every terrifying moment, every flash of panic—is now being entrusted to you. You can feel the weight of it, of the trust in her small hands as she holds it out to you.

For a brief moment, you hesitate. You weren’t expecting this. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to accept anything from her, to make it feel like a goodbye, like this was the end. But the way she’s looking at you—her eyes filled with the kind of vulnerability that only a child could show—it’s a gift. A gesture of complete trust.

You reach out, slowly, your fingers brushing against hers as she places the stuffed animal into your hands. You don’t say anything at first. You don’t need to. The weight of the moment says it all.

“I’ll look after him,” you say finally, your voice soft. “I promise,”

Maddie gives a small nod, her lip trembling slightly, but she doesn’t cry. She doesn’t need to. She knows she’s safe now. She knows that the danger is over, even though it’s going to take a long time for her to truly feel like it. But she trusts you. That’s what matters most.

Her grandparents step forward now, gentle and patient. Her grandmother reaches out, her hand trembling slightly, but Madelyn doesn’t move. She looks up at you one last time, and it’s like she’s asking you for permission. You nod, brushing a hand over her hair one last time, offering her the comfort and security she’s going to need in the days to come.

“You’re going to be okay, Maddie,” you repeat, knowing it’s true. You’ve done everything you could for her, and now it’s time to let go.

Madelyn doesn’t look back as her grandparents gently lead her out of the room. She doesn’t cry, though you’re sure the tears will come later. For now, she’s holding herself together, with the knowledge that she’s safe, and that she’s going to be okay.

—

The hum of the office is soothing in its familiar monotony. You step inside, the heavy weight of the case finally lifting from your shoulders. It’s strange—part of you feels relief, the other part feels like an echo of something left behind. Something you didn’t quite expect to feel, but there it is, nestled in your chest, quietly tugging at you.

You take a deep breath and walk to your desk, setting down your bag and the files you’ve been carrying all day. Then, without really thinking about it, you place the stuffed animal on the corner of your desk, the soft bunny now a permanent fixture in the workspace that’s been both home and battlefield for so long.

It’s a small thing, but it’s a thing that means something. And as soon as you set it down, you feel a soft exhale escape your lips. A sense of finality, of closure, as if everything has settled into place.

The case is over. Madelyn is safe. But something about this—about the stuffed animal—feels like a piece of you that will always remain in that small room with her, in the moment when you promised to keep her safe.

You don’t realise Spencer is watching you until you hear his soft voice.

“She gave it to you,” he says, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.

You glance over at him, momentarily surprised. His gaze is soft, understanding, and there’s a certain warmth in his eyes that you’re not sure you’re ready for.

You glance back at the bunny and then back at Spencer. It’s an odd feeling—the way he’s looking at you, almost as if he sees more than just the case, more than just the professional side of you. He sees the part of you that changed over the past 36 hours.

“She did,” you say, your voice low, not quite sure what to say after that. It’s true, but you hadn’t really thought it through. You hadn’t thought about what this moment would mean.

“You didn’t have to take it,” Spencer offers gently, taking a step closer. “But I think it’s... a good thing. That you did.”

You swallow, unsure how to process the mix of emotions stirring in your chest. It’s strange, this feeling. The feeling of having kept a promise, of having kept someone safe. You’ve done this kind of work before, but never like this. Never with this kind of personal connection.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice thick with something you can’t quite put into words.

Spencer steps closer, his posture relaxed, yet there’s an unspoken care in his movements. He looks at you—softly, steadily—and you feel the warmth of his presence settle around you. He reaches a hand out, his fingers brushing over the edge of your waist. It’s a gesture that’s comforting, gentle, not pushing, just there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid of breaking the moment. His touch is subtle, yet you can feel the tenderness in his gesture.

You nod, but the answer feels incomplete. How do you explain that you're fine, but also changed? How do you explain that the girl who clung to you, who trusted you with her safety, left something inside you that you hadn’t expected to find?

“I’m fine,” you say finally, because it’s easier to say than to explain.

Spencer doesn’t press, doesn’t ask for more details. He just gives a soft nod, his fingers still lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he steps back slightly. He doesn’t push. He’s always been good at giving space when needed.

“Want me to take you home?” he asks, his voice gentle. “Or… we could just go somewhere. Get some food. Something to relax.”

The offer is simple, but you can tell that it’s more than that. It’s his way of letting you know he’s there for you, not out of obligation, but because he wants to be. Because he sees you in a way that not many people do.

The soft affection in his voice, the quiet care in his words—it’s enough to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you’ve felt in the past.

You glance at him, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. For a moment, the world outside the office fades, and it’s just the two of you. He’s standing there, so patient, so steady, and the weight of the last 36 hours begins to feel a little less heavy with him around.

“That’d be nice,” you say finally, surprising yourself with the answer. You don’t know why, but you do. You could go home, retreat into the silence of your apartment, but there’s something about the idea of being with him—of having someone there, someone who understands, someone who’s seen the way you’ve changed—that feels better.

Spencer smiles, a quiet relief crossing his face. He steps forward, offering you a hand, and you take it without hesitation. His fingers close around yours, warm and comforting. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels like a promise, like something new is beginning.

“Let’s go then,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

[goingpublic212]

Look at this... 👀

Look at this... 👀 https://pin.it/4kSisnx

[playingwithapparel]

Summer Vacation Ideas

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

[makeyuomine]

written in the stars // part 1

Summary: (Y/N) was hoping for a quiet evening under the stars at the Griffith Observatory — a chance to clear her mind. But something shifts when she spots Harry, a graduate student in Planetary Science, during the planetarium show. What begins as a few curious glances soon turns into lingering conversations, shared stargazing, and a growing connection neither of them saw coming.

Tropes: Slow burn, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, academic/nerdy bf x grounded gf

Author’s Note: Hi readers ⭐️ This is a work of fanfiction inspired by the public persona of Harry Styles. All characters, events, and scenarios are entirely fictional and are not intended to reflect real-life individuals, situations, or relationships. This story was written purely for entertainment and creative expression — nothing here is based on real events.

Also please note this is my first time writing a fanfic in literal years, so I’m a little rusty.

Thank you so so much for taking the time to read. I hope you all enjoy.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

(Y/N) had grown up with the Griffith Observatory practically in her backyard, but it felt brand new tonight. She had decided to attend a showing at the planetarium that evening.

Maybe it was the mist drifting in from the hills, softening the sharp lights of Los Angeles like a veil. Or perhaps it was how everything had started feeling a little off lately—like her life had tilted half a degree on its axis, except no one had noticed. She wasn’t looking for an answer tonight, just a reason to keep going.

The planetarium dome smelled the same as it always had—clean, slightly metallic, like old projectors and cool air. She chose a seat in the center row, her favorite spot since childhood. When the stars would swirl and expand across the ceiling, it felt like she was floating.

"I should’ve gotten high first," she muttered under her breath.

(Y/N) adjusts herself in her seat, getting comfortable. A few seconds later, someone slid into one of the seats beside her.

Not right beside her, but close enough to notice.

She glanced over, expecting some bored couple or a tourist with a camera.

The man beside her was quietly silencing his phone, settling in for the show. He sat alone, entirely absorbed in his own world—and looked absolutely, maddeningly gorgeous.

He wore black jeans, scuffed Vans, and a button-up shirt, with a navy blue cardigan draped casually over his shoulders.

His hair fell in loose, tousled waves near his collar—like he'd been running his fingers through it all day without realizing. A soft leather notebook rested on one knee, a pen poised in his hand, like he was treating the show more like a study session than a casual outing.

He noticed her looking.

"You don’t strike me as someone who’s here for an Instagram post," he whispered, a half-smile playing at his lips.

(Y/N) arched a brow. "And you don’t strike me as someone who’s here for fun."

"That's right," he laughed, offering a hand. "I'm Harry."

She shook it. "(Y/N)."

There was a pause, the kind that crackled with the promise of more.

“I'm a grad student at the university here,” he said, eyes flicking up to the domed ceiling. "I study Planetary Science."

Her brows lifted. "That's amazing. So you do this for a living?"

"Well," he said, shrugging modestly, "I try to make sense of celestial chaos. Planets colliding. Moons forming. Rings collapsing into dust. Romance, really."

(Y/N) smiled and raised her eyebrow. "That’s your idea of romance?"

"Well, what's yours?"

Her eyes met his, lingering a second too long.

"I... I don't know, actually."

She felt slightly flustered. (Y/N) didn't expect to be talking about romance, let alone being asked what she considered to be romantic.

"I'm sure you do. We’re alive in the blink of cosmic time, and somehow, here we are."

The lights dimmed.

The dome came alive with light—stars unfurling in spirals and flares above them. (Y/N) tilted her head back, chest rising and falling slowly. She found herself unable to focus on the show—despite having seen it more times than she could count. Her thoughts kept drifting to the handsome grad student beside her, and the way he managed to make astronomy feel like poetry.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe the universe had timing. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all chaos.

Next to her, Harry was silent. Still.

He watched the stars with quiet intensity, occasionally scribbling notes into his notebook. How he managed to write anything in the dim light, she had no idea—but she couldn’t look away. There was something about him that felt effortlessly poetic, like he belonged to the stars he was studying.

Sensing her watching him, Harry turned his head.

And when she turned—drawn by the same invisible thread that had pulled her to come here alone, he looked away, like he’d been caught in something intimate.

The narrator’s voice filled the dome again. Soft, reverent.

"Venus spins backwards, did you know that? Her sun rises in the west and sets in the east. No one knows exactly why, but she defied gravity and expectations."

She.

(Y/N) swallowed. She wasn’t sure if it was the narrator's words or the way Harry tensed, just a little, as if he felt them too.

When the show ended, the crowd shuffled out in a hush, like worshippers leaving a chapel. Outside, the night was velvet and full of echoes. The Observatory loomed behind them, glowing like a crown on the hillside.

She lingered at the edge of the terrace, arms crossed, watching the smog-shrouded city glitter below.

Harry joined her quietly.

"You didn’t ask why I came alone," she said.

"I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would."

(Y/N) turned to look at him and chuckled, "That’s surprisingly respectful for someone who called planetary destruction romantic."

He grinned, then grew more serious. "Why did you come?"

She hesitated. Then: "Everything’s changing lately. People, plans. It’s like…I don’t recognize anything I used to count on."

He nodded slowly. A few seconds passed before he spoke up, "Sometimes I look at Jupiter’s Great Red Spot and think about how it’s a storm that’s been raging for centuries. Longer than any of us will live. But even that’s starting to fade."

"Hm, is this your version of a pep talk?"

"I’m just saying," he smiled, his voice softer now, "even the most chaotic of things can’t last forever."

She didn’t mean to stare at him again. She didn’t mean to want more.

But she did.

He was brilliant and magnetic and too much for the moment she was in. But he’d made her feel something—for the first time in months.

They stood together in silence, the kind that felt less awkward and more like a pause the night was holding its breath through.

(Y/N) stared out at the city lights, scattered like fallen stars across the hills. Beside her, Harry did the same. When he wasn’t looking, she stole quiet glances—drawn to how composed he seemed, how effortlessly he carried himself, like he belonged in some other era.

After a long breath, Harry pulled out his notebook and jotted something down, his brow furrowed in thought.

“I should get going,” he said finally.

He tore a small slip of paper from the notebook and held it out to her—edges rough, his number written in a looping, deliberate hand.

“In case you ever want to talk stars again,” he said. Then, after a beat, his mouth curved with mischief. “Or chaos.”

(Y/N) took the paper, fingertips brushing his.

“It was really nice meeting you, (Y/N),” he added, extending his hand with that same steady warmth.

She shook it, and for a second, neither of them let go.

“Call me,” he said, his voice low as he took her hand, brushing a soft kiss against her palm.

He let her hand slip from his, the touch lingering just a little too long. She stood there, utterly speechless, only able to offer a small nod and a shy smile.

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

She watched him go, lost in the sea of people, but something told her—he wouldn’t be gone for long.

And somehow, she knew she would stay with him, too.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A/N: Thank you to everyone that took the time to read the first post of Written in the Stars! Please let me know your thoughts. Also make sure to drop any recommendations for other one shots, blurbs, etc.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

[wchswift]

── tipping point

pairing! beau arlen x best friend fem!reader

summary! a movie night turns heated when teasing turns to kissing, and tension finally snaps between you two.

contents! sexual tension, suggestive content, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, flirting and teasing,

word count! 1.1k

Beau’s backyard is bathed in the soft glow of the projector, the movie flickering across the makeshift screen he’s rigged up behind his trailer. The air is warm, laced with the scent of pine and the distant sounds of crickets. You’re both kicked back in your chairs, legs stretched out, the space between you comfortable—familiar.

It’s always like this. Easy. No pressure, no expectations. Just Beau, a good movie, and the kind of playful teasing that makes the time slip away too fast.

“You know,” you murmur, stretching your arms behind your head, “you’ve got terrible taste in movies for a guy who thinks he’s a cowboy.”

Beau scoffs, tilting his beer bottle toward you. “Excuse me? This is a classic.”

You snort. “It’s a disaster.”

“You’re a disaster.”

You nudge his boot with yours, smirking. “Really? That’s your comeback?”

“Yep.” He pops the p and takes a long sip of his beer, watching you over the rim of the bottle with that smug, easy confidence that always makes you want to push his buttons.

The teasing flows naturally, lighthearted jabs back and forth, your laughter mixing with his. It’s what makes this whole thing work—the constant banter, the way you both toe the line without ever fully crossing it.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

Because at some point tonight, something shifts.

It’s subtle at first. The way Beau’s eyes linger on your lips when you smirk at him. The way your knee brushes against his, and neither of you pulls away. The space between you isn’t as wide as it was when the movie started, and you’re both noticing it now.

The credits roll, but neither of you moves.

The projector hums in the silence, casting flickering light across Beau’s face. His gaze flicks to you, lingering, something unreadable in his expression.

He shifts in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head, and the way his shirt tightens across his chest shouldn’t make your breath hitch, but it does.

“You ever think about it?” His voice is low, rougher than before.

Your stomach tightens. “Think about what?”

His lips quirk, but it’s not a smirk this time. It’s something else—something slower. “Us.”

The word hangs heavy in the air, thickening the tension that’s been simmering under the surface for way too long. Your heartbeat kicks up, but you force a smirk, trying to keep it light.

“Us? You saying you got a crush on me, Sheriff?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Think we’re past the crush stage, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches. His voice is different now—low, warm, intentional.

And suddenly, you’re aware of everything. The way he’s watching you like he’s finally letting himself see you. The way your palms are starting to sweat. The way your body is leaning just a little closer without you meaning to.

It’s a choice. Right now, this is still a choice. You could laugh it off, break the moment, go back to what’s safe.

Or you could do what you’ve wanted to do for months.

Slowly, you push yourself up from your chair, your heart pounding harder than it should. Beau’s brows lift in surprise, but he doesn't react. He just keeps watching you with a raised brow, with something unreadable in his eyes—something waiting.

You step between his legs, but instead of grabbing his shirt and yanking him up, you do something worse.

You straddle his lap.

Beau tenses under you, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist, but he doesn’t pull you closer. Not yet. He just stares, his pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“The hell are you doin’, sweetheart?” His voice is rough, but he doesn’t sound like he wants you to stop.

You smirk, but it’s shaky. “Testing a theory.”

And then you kiss him.

It’s slow at first—deep, warm, deliberate. Beau lets out a low sound, something between a sigh and a growl before his hands tighten on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin through your shirt. You sink into him, letting the weight of it pull you both under, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips, the way he tilts his head to take more of you.

It’s soft, but it’s intense. Like you’ve both been waiting for this without realizing it. Like something inside you clicks into place the second your lips touch.

He kisses you like he’s been starving for it. Like he can’t believe you’re finally letting him.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, tangled together, kissing slow and deep, getting lost in it. When you finally pull back, both of you breathless, foreheads brushing, Beau swears under his breath and you realize this was never just a friendship.

“Shit.” His hands flex on your waist, like he’s trying to get himself under control. His breath is warm against your lips while he murmurs, “You got any idea what you just started?”

And just like that, it snaps.

Beau surges up, kissing you harder, rougher. His hands slide under your shirt, fingertips pressing against your back as he pulls you flush against him. The second kiss is nothing like the first—it’s messy, desperate, and hungry. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, and he groans into your mouth, his grip tightening as he rolls his hips up against you.

It’s not enough.

You can feel it in the way he grips you, the way his breath stutters when your teeth graze his bottom lip. The need is thick between you now, burning hot and fast.

Beau momentarily breaks away, his thumb brushes your cheek, slow, deliberate. His voice is rough when he murmurs, “You gonna let me take you inside, or you just wanted to knock me on my ass?”

Your stomach flips, heat curling low in your spine.

You don’t answer. You just grab his hand, pulling him up with you toward the trailer.

His chuckle is low and filthy while he follows—his body pressed close, his lips brushing against your jaw as his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt as you step through the door.

It starts slow.

And then it doesn’t.

The door clicks shut behind you, but you barely register the sound—too lost in the way Beau’s lips find your neck, in the heat of his hands as they slide under your shirt, in the way the tension that’s been building between you for so damn long finally, finally breaks.

And as his mouth claims yours again, and again, so rough and deep... and you know—

There’s no going back from this.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

𖤐 masterlist

lina's notes: soo, I wasn't going to post this so soon, I even made a schedule to post only on Wednesdays and Sundays, buttt I wrote this at 2am and I just couldn't resist to post it lol I just love this sheriff sm what can I do??

tagging my favs beau writers <3 @daylighted @jasvtsc @figthoughts @deansbeer @couturewinx @waynes-multiverse @soldiersgirl @honeyryewhiskey @zepskies @rositaslabyrinth @blossomingorchids @cowboysandcigarettes

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3)

[electronic-devices]

Reasons the HAPPRUN Mini Projector Outshines Standard Monitors for Movie Nights

[magical-reid]

The Things He Doesn't Know

Pairing: Stiles Stilinksi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Stiles Stilinski has always been hyper-aware of every little detail about you, from your food preferences to the way you hum when you're focused—something your boyfriend, Nick, has failed to notice. As Stiles’s unintentional corrections begin to create friction in your relationship, the truth about Stiles’s feelings emerges, leading to a confession neither of you were prepared for.

Stiles was a walking encyclopedia of your quirks and preferences, an unintentional archivist of every detail about you that others—including your boyfriend, Nick—seemed to miss. It wasn’t something you’d thought much about, at least not until recently. Not until Stiles’s persistent corrections started poking holes in what should’ve been your perfectly fine relationship.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The First Instance: Movie Night

The tension started small. One evening, the pack was gathered at Lydia’s house, half-researching supernatural threats and half-goofing off. Nick leaned in beside you on the couch, nudging your shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured, “I was thinking we could do something cool this weekend. How about a movie night? I could set up a projector in my backyard, hang some lights, maybe grab a cute rom-com for us.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, unsure how to respond. Before you could, Stiles spoke up from across the room, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“Yeah, great idea—if you want her to be miserable.”

Everyone looked at him. Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Stiles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “First of all, she doesn’t like rom-coms. She prefers horror—like, the really messed-up, keep-you-awake-at-night kind. Second, she hates sitting outside after sunset because mosquitoes love her. And third, if you’re going to grab snacks, make sure you get Twizzlers, because she doesn’t like popcorn.”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even—”

“You mentioned it once,” Stiles said with a shrug, avoiding your eyes. “It’s not rocket science.”

Nick’s frown deepened, his tone defensive. “Okay, well, I didn’t know. Excuse me for trying to plan something fun.”

You interjected quickly, trying to smooth things over. “It’s fine, really. I mean, I do like the idea of a movie night… maybe we could do something inside?”

Nick nodded tightly, but you could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#2: The Flowers

A few days later, Nick showed up at your place with a bouquet of red roses. You smiled politely as you accepted them, but the strong, cloying scent made your nose crinkle.

“They’re beautiful,” you said, trying not to sneeze.

Nick beamed, but before he could respond, Stiles walked into the room carrying an armful of books. He froze when he saw the flowers, his brow furrowing.

“Roses?” he said, his voice laced with incredulity. “Seriously?”

Nick’s expression darkened. “What’s wrong with roses?”

“She hates roses,” Stiles said bluntly, setting the books down. “They give her headaches. If you’re going to bring her flowers, go for white peonies. They’re her favorite.”

You turned to Stiles, your mouth falling open. “How do you even know that?”

Stiles shrugged, his face carefully neutral. “You said it that one time in junior year. You know, after the whole Nogitsune thing? You were talking about how roses make you feel sick, and I just… remembered.”

Nick stared between the two of you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Good to know,” he muttered before turning and walking out of the room.

You groaned, glaring at Stiles. “Do you have to keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” he asked innocently.

“Correcting him! It’s like you’re trying to make him look bad.”

“I’m not trying to make him look bad,” Stiles retorted. “I’m just stating facts. It’s not my fault he doesn’t know these things.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#3: The Club Date Idea

Nick’s attempts to salvage the relationship continued. One evening, as the pack hung out at Scott’s house, he leaned over to you, his voice low.

“Okay, so hear me out,” he said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “What if we go out this weekend? Like, really go out. There’s a new club downtown—loud music, dancing, drinks. It could be fun.”

You hesitated, wrinkling your nose. “A club?”

“She hates clubs,” Stiles said from his usual spot on the couch, not even bothering to look up from his notebook.

Nick exhaled sharply. “Of course she does. Why am I not surprised?”

“She doesn’t like crowds,” Stiles continued, his tone infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “Too loud, too chaotic. And she definitely doesn’t dance unless she’s had exactly two margaritas. On the rocks, salt rim—not sugar.”

You gawked at him. “Okay, seriously, how do you know that?”

“Because I pay attention,” Stiles said, his voice softening as his eyes briefly met yours.

Nick stood abruptly, his frustration boiling over. “You know what? Forget it. I’m done with this conversation.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#4: The Actual Date

Despite the mounting tension, Nick eventually planned a surprise date. He picked you up and drove to a small clearing in the woods, where he’d set up a picnic beneath the stars. The blanket was spread out neatly, fairy lights strung through the trees, and a bottle of wine chilled in a bucket.

It was objectively romantic. You tried to enjoy it, smiling and laughing as Nick poured you a glass of wine and offered you a chocolate truffle. But as the night went on, something felt… off. The date was fine—better than fine, even. So why did it feel wrong?

By the time you got home, you were frustrated with yourself. You sat on the couch at Scott’s house later that evening, recounting the date to the pack. Stiles listened quietly from across the room, his expression unreadable.

“It was a nice date,” you said, your voice tinged with guilt. “Really. He put so much effort into it. But… I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.”

Stiles spoke up, his tone carefully measured. “That’s because it wasn’t you.”

You turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, leaning forward. “You don’t like wine. You drink it to be polite, but you’d rather have a Coke or peach tea. And chocolate? You don’t like it outside because it melts too fast. Plus, sitting on the ground for hours? Your back probably hurt the whole time.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke, every word hitting uncomfortably close to home. “How… how do you even know all that?”

Stiles shrugged, his voice quieter now. “I just do.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Breakup

Nick broke up with you two days later. He showed up at your door, his expression heavy with guilt.

“You deserve better than me,” he said quietly. “Someone who knows what makes you happy without guessing. Someone who already loves you. I can’t compete with that.”

“Nick,” you said, your voice breaking. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s Stiles,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “It’s always been him. I just hope you realize it.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Confession

At Scott’s house, you walked in, feeling hollow. “Nick broke up with me,” you said quietly. “He said someone else could love me better.”

The pack exchanged knowing glances. Stiles shifted nervously before bursting out:

“I didn’t mean to know those things about you, okay? Like how you like the edges of brownies more than the middle. Or that you hum that stupid song when you’re concentrating. Or that you hate when people mix the red and yellow Starbursts together because it ‘ruins the taste.’ How was I not supposed to know? I’ve been holding on to every word you’ve said since the third grade.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” he continued, his voice breaking. “But I did. And I don’t know how to stop.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped forward, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to.”

And then you kissed him.

[starbabyg]

Picture Perfect Jack throwing parties on New Years just so he can kiss you.

Jack throws the party every year. It started as a joke—a way to avoid the overcrowded frat houses, to give everyone a place to be when the bars were too packed and the dorms too dull. But this year is different. This year, he’s planned every detail himself.

The lake house is strung with golden fairy lights, their reflections dancing on the dark water. A bonfire crackles on the shore, where people gather in clusters, laughter and warmth thick in the air. Music hums from the speakers, blending with the occasional pop of a champagne bottle. In the backyard, a massive white sheet is pinned between two trees, a projector casting the time in bold numbers for the midnight countdown.

And Jack? Jack is waiting.

He’s been near you all night—not in a way that’s obvious, but in the way that matters. Refilling your drink before you notice it’s empty. Laughing at your jokes even when they’re bad. Resting a hand on the small of your back when you weave through the crowd. He’s not nervous, exactly, but there’s a weight to this night that he’s never felt before.

Because this party isn’t just about celebrating the new year. It’s about you. It's the first New Years you're spending together. And he wants it to be perfect.

At 11:58, the energy shifts. The excitement builds, people grabbing their drinks, finding someone to hold onto as the final minutes of the year slip away. You’re standing near the bonfire, the warmth licking at your skin, the golden glow making everything feel softer, hazier—like something out of a dream.

Jack finds you easily, like he always does. He doesn’t have to push through the crowd or call your name; you’re already looking for him, too. When your eyes meet, he feels it—that pull, that quiet certainty that this moment, this night, is something more.

You smile up at him, cheeks flushed from the cold or the champagne or maybe just the way he’s looking at you. “Almost midnight,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

"C'mon, let's go watch the countdown," his arm snakes around your waist, leading you front and center in front of the projected countdown. Trevor is nearby, holding a bottle of champagne that he's mischievously shaking vigorously. Quinn is sat in one of the lawn chairs, seltzer in one hand and a joint in the other. And Luke is somewhere trying to find some pretty girl to kiss.

The countdown looms closer, the numbers on the screen flickering in sync with the anticipation humming through the air. You and Jack stand right in the middle of it all—the laughter, the chaos, the warmth of friends and firelight. But for him, everything else fades into the background.

Trevor is still shaking the champagne bottle like he’s preparing for battle, grinning wildly. Quinn takes a slow drag from his joint, watching the scene unfold with his usual lazy amusement. Somewhere in the crowd, Luke is on a mission, scanning for a last-minute New Year’s kiss.

And Jack? Jack only has eyes for you.

The numbers tick down.

Ten… nine…

You shift closer, the space between you shrinking, your arm brushing his. He wonders if you can feel his pulse pounding, if you know this is the moment he’s been waiting for all night. Maybe longer than that.

Eight… seven…

You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly, and Jack knows. Knows that this isn’t just some party, just some kiss at midnight. It’s the start of something.

Six… five…

The speakers crackle with voices overlapping, Trevor is way too close with that champagne bottle, and someone accidentally kicks over a drink. But Jack doesn’t care.

Four… three…

His fingers brush against yours, barely a touch, but enough to send sparks up his spine. You don’t pull away.

Two… one…

And then it happens.

Jack cups your face, his touch gentle but confident, and leans in. Your breath hitches, but then your lips meet his, and the rest of the world disappears. The cheers, the fireworks, the pop of champagne spraying everywhere—it’s all background noise to the feeling of you melting into him.

You kiss him back like this is exactly how this night was always meant to end. Like there was never any other possibility. When you finally pull away, the new year stretching out in front of you, Jack lingers close, his forehead resting against yours. He exhales a soft laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“Happy New Year,” he murmurs, so enthralled in this moment, so in love that his body thrums with electricity,

You smile, hands still resting against his hoodie, holding him close. “Happy New Year, Jack.”

And just like that, everything feels picture perfect.

✧˖°――♡――✧˖°✧˖°――♡――✧˖°✧˖°――♡――✧˖°✧˖°――♡――✧˖

yesss bringing back the picture perfect au. I missed it ngl. this one is superrr late lol but idc.

[inmyglenpowellera]

Bad Reputation Part 3 | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Taylor Swift inspired!OC

Request: Requested by @akornsworld

Word Count: 10,505 words

Summary: There's that saying for some people, “You can't go home again.” When you grow up and leave, that's it, you don't go back home. Presley Joann Benjamin (stage name Presley Jo) believed that was the case for her. Never did she think she would be right back where she started. But her Aunt insisted it was the best for her. She thought for sure her life and career were over until she meets a certain cocky aviator.

Warnings: Alcohol use, cursing, fluff, Jake being an absolute gentleman, Rooster and Coyote being supportive besties, smut (if you are not 18+ do not read), protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering

A/N: As promised, here is the sexuals. The tag list will be at the end of each chapter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

It has been about a couple of months since Jake and I’s first date, and things couldn’t have possibly been better. As promised, he texted me goodnight and good morning after our first date, to which I replied he left his jacket. His response? Keep it, he’s gotta mark his territory somehow.

Ever since the night of our first date, he has been so understanding of my anxiety about going out in public on our dates. Since then, he’s been trying to find ways to have dates from home.

We went on a second date a week later, which consisted of us just sitting on the couch at his house eating takeout, and playing board games. Something so simple but felt like everything between us. We just sat around eating and laughing before I left and went home with a simple good-night kiss that I was wishing would turn into more. However, I held myself back because I owed Jake the same respect he was giving me, no matter how badly I wanted to climb the blonde godlike aviator like a tree.

Our third date was amazing. Jake told me he was going to pick me up and take me to the movies. My anxiety couldn’t help but spike again at his words and I reluctantly agreed to his idea. I dressed in comfy clothes as he asked and rode in the car with him to our date, only for him to pull back up at his house. My obvious look of confusion towards him caused him to laugh and help me out of the car before leading me through his house and into his small backyard. My confusion turned to immense shock at the sight in front of me. Jake had fairy lights strung across his backyard to light up the area, a tent set up with a mattress, pillows, and blankets, and a projector and screen set up.

“Jake,” I said in shock.

“I said I was going to take you to the movies,” Jake shrugged at me, looking down at me smugly.

I scoffed at him and shook my head. “How did you-”

“Coyote,” Jake said simply.

I nodded at him in understanding before looking down. “He doesn’t-”

“No, he doesn’t know about you specifically. He just knows that there is a girl I’m trying hard to impress,” He answered quickly, cutting me off again.

I smiled up at him softly before wrapping my arm around his neck. “Well, if you keep trying as hard as you are, things will begin to sway in your favor,” I told him smugly before bringing him down into a kiss.

That night was spent under the stars, watching movies, or at least partially watching movies, there was a lot of kissing that led to some touching. Jake asked me to stay that night, and as much as I wanted to tease him and say no like he did to me on our first date, I decided not to happily stay. The two of us slept in the tent cuddled up together under the stars and listened to the ocean in the background.

It was after the third date and spending such a great night with Jake that I decided I wanted to pull the trigger on finding a place in Fightertown. I realized how much I loved all of our time spent together and that I never wanted to go back to New York. I wanted to be wherever he was. Penny and I started looking everywhere around the area when the two of us had free time, occasionally Bradley and Maverick would join the two of us. Sometimes Jake and I went by ourselves if nobody else was free. Thankfully, money was not a problem so it was fairly easy to find a place I liked, my only stipulations being it was on the beach and had enough space for a music room. I found a place within a month and was moved in within a week. Jake and I are now going into our third month together and this has possibly been the happiest I’ve ever been in a while.

I had been staying in my new house for a few days now, Jake had yet to come over and see it. I had finished unpacking late last night with Penny, Amelia, Mav, and Bradley’s help. Luckily no heavy lifting needed to be done thanks to the movers doing all of it. They drove all of my stuff from New York across the country to Cali after I sold my loft there.

I woke up from a dead sleep in my bed to my phone ringing. Recognizing the ringtone, I grinned and leaned up out of bed, reaching over to my nightstand to grab my phone.

“Good morning, Mr. Eastwood,” I greeted with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, beautiful. How’s the new house treating you,” He asked me curiously.

“Good, but it’s so lonely. I think it’s missing something,” I told him, trying to hint at him spending some time with me.

Jake chuckled at my words before speaking. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Oh, you know, just spending time at home, all by my lonesome, watching the sunset from my balcony while I wait for my knight in shining flight suit to come and save me,” I sighed, picking at my blanket.

“Well, your knight is also free tonight and has a big surprise for you,” He said smugly.

“Oh, really,” I asked curiously.

“Mhm,” Jake said as I heard a jet taking off on his end of the phone.

“What is it,” I asked again.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise,” He said in amusement. I groaned at his words and heard him chuckle again. “Just wear something fancy.”

“Jake…,” I trailed off in a warning tone.

“Just trust me. I’ll pick you up at 7,” He told me before hanging up.

I scoffed at his words and shook my head at him, leaning up out of bed to get moving for the day.

“What are you going to wear,” Amelia asked me over Facetime as I dug through my walk-in closet.

“I don’t know. He just said it was a surprise and to dress fancy,” I shrugged at her.

“Well that’s helpful,” She said sarcastically as she petted Theo.

I was going through my dresses when I paused at the last one on the rack.

“Amelia, I think it’s time,” I said simply, causing the young girl to gasp.

“You mean-”

“Yes, the third date dress,” I told her, pulling it off the rack and holding it in front of me.

“But this isn’t your third date. It's like your 5th or 6th,” She pointed out.

“No, but tonight that doesn’t matter,” I told her simply before moving to change.

“So, are you going to wear the third date bra too then,” She asked me curiously.

“Um, yeah…,” I trailed off, knowing there was no wearing a bra with this dress.

“You never did tell me what this big surprise was,” I hummed to Jake, turning in my seat to prop my head on my hand resting on the middle console.

“That's precisely what you just said it is. A surprise,” Jake said with a smirk, briefly looking over at me.

“Well, I’d like to know what to expect so that I can have an escape plan from whatever fancy restaurant you are taking me to when the paparazzi inevitably show up,” I informed him, gesturing to the dress he told me to wear and the nice clothing he was also sporting.

“You won’t have to worry about the paparazzi showing up,” Jake reassured me.

“Jake, seriously, it’s going to happen. No matter where you take me-”

“It’s not going to happen tonight, Pres. Trust me,” Jake reassured me, placing a hand on my knee.

I sighed and nodded before shifting in my seat again. We remained silent for about 5 more minutes before Jake told me we were about 5 minutes away and asked me to close my eyes. I give him a look in response causing him to laugh out a “please.” I sighed but did as he asked. We continued driving to the restaurant before we stopped. I felt Jake get out of the car before walking around to my side and opening the door for me. He helped me out of the car before telling who I’m assuming is a valet not to scratch his truck. I scoffed and rolled my eyes before allowing him to lead me into the restaurant.

“Can I open my eyes now,” I asked.

“No, keep them closed until we get to our table,” Jake told me, leading me to the back of the building and out the back doors.

“Oh, we’re eating outside,” I asked with a bright grin.

“With an ocean view. Nothing less for you Pres,” Jake said before pulling a chair out for me and helping me sit down. “Okay, you can open now.”

I opened my eyes and looked around me to see the back deck of the Hard Deck. “The Hard Deck, Jake seriously?”

“It’s not the Hard Deck,” Jake denied, shaking his head in denial and moving to sit across from me.

“Yes, it is. I think I recognize the bar my aunt owns and that I used to work at,” I argued with him, gesturing around me towards the deck.

���We aren’t at the Hard Deck. We’re at Il Mazzo Duro,” He shrugged at me smugly, a smirk on his lips.

I hummed the name to myself in confusion before realization came across my face. “That’s The Hard Deck in Italian,” I pointed out in frustration.

Jake’s smirk immediately dropped and he looked at me in shock. “You know Italian?”

“Of course, I know Italian. My father was Italian,” I argued with him.

Jake continued to look at me in shock before humming and nodding. “Huh, you learn something new every day.”

I shook my head at him in disbelief before looking to my left when somebody walked up the table.

“Hello, and welcome to Il Mazzo Duro. My name is Penny and I am the owner of this fine establishment. Here are your menus, your waiter will be with you soon,” My aunt told the two of us with a smile, a fancy black dress, and high heels donning her body.

I scoffed and shook my head at her in disbelief, accepting my menu and laughing at her wink she shot me before leaving me and Jake on the deck by ourselves. I shook my head and looked over at Jake who had his nose in the menu before him.

“I’m thinking of getting the lobster, what about you beautiful,” Jake asked me curiously, looking over the menu and raising his eyebrows at me. “You haven’t even opened the menu yet. You better figure out what you want before our waiter gets here.”

“What is going on right now,” I asked him, shaking my head in disbelief.

Jake stared at me for a few seconds before he sighed and leaned forward, placing his menu down on the table and placing his hand palm up and open on the table. I looked down at his hand before leaning forward and placing my hand in his own.

“On our first date, you were talking about how you wish you could be normal. You wish you could go out to eat at a crowded restaurant just like every other person and not be completely mobbed by paparazzi or fans. So that’s what we’re doing,” Jake told me, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“But that’s not what we’re doing. We’re completely alone,” I said, gesturing around me.

“Are we,” Jake asked with a smug smirk.

Right after his words, the back door of the Hard Deck opened and I watched as Maverick led my aunt to a table, followed by Amelia and Theo (who was wearing a bow tie), and Ice and Sarah. I watched them all move to sit at different tables in the area and shook my head in disbelief as tears rose.

“Jake,” I whispered out, sniffling slightly.

“When we first met, before I even knew who you were, I promised myself that I was one, going to get your name, and two, I was going to do everything in my power to keep you happy because that is what you deserve. So let me try and give you this one thing,” Jake told me, squeezing my hand.

I squeezed his hand back before nodding. “Okay.” I took my hand back and opened my menu, looking down at it. “So you got my aunt and her boyfriend, my surrogate aunt and uncle, and my little cousin and her dog in on this. Who else?”

“Well, Coyote was the valet, and don’t worry he didn’t see you,” Jake informed me with a shrug.

“Of course he was,” I said with a chuckle.

“And there’s also-”

“Good evening beautiful lady and average-looking gentleman my name is Bradley and I will be your waiter tonight,” Bradley greeted the two of us, dressed in black slacks with a white button-up, black vest, and black bowtie.

“Of course,” I said in amusement, looking up at my best friend.

“Rooster,” Jake greeted with slight annoyance at his calling him average-looking.

“Can I get the happy couple started with any drinks,” Bradley asked the two of us.

“Bring us the best bottle of wine you have,” Jake told him.

“Thank you, Killer,” I said with a grin and a shake of the head.

“You’re welcome, Queenie. I’ll be back for entrees,” Bradley told the two of us, shooting me a wink before leaving our table.

I shook my head and laughed before looking over at Jake. “You went all out, didn’t you?”

“Like I said, only the best for you Pres,” Jake shrugged at me with a smile.

After his statement, Bradley returned to our table with breadsticks and a bottle of wine, which he showed to Jake, who examined the label before nodding. I shook my head at my two goofballs before accepting my glass of wine with a thank you.

“Have we decided on entrees,” Bradley asked the two of us, pulling a notepad out of his pocket.

“Yes, I will have the lobster,” Jake told him, handing him his menu.

“And for the lady,” Bradley questioned, looking towards me.

“The chicken alfredo, please,” I told him, handing him my menu as well.

“Coming right up,” He told the two of us before walking away.

Jake lifted his wine glass and held it out towards me in the form of cheers. “To being normal for one night.”

“To be normal,” I said with a smile, clinking my glass against his before taking a sip.

Jake did the same and set his glass down before leaning forward onto the table and looking at me curiously. “So you know Italian?”

“Mhm, my father was Italian. My grandfather met my grandmother in Italy while he was stationed there. He married her and brought her to America where they had my dad,” I told him, placing my wine down and resting my head on my hands.

“Tell me something in Italian,” He told me with a bright grin.

“Anything,” I asked him, a smirk building on my face.

“Anything at all,” He nodded.

“Are you sure,” I asked again.

“Positive,” He confirmed.

“Okay, um… Sei il mio bel cowboy, e non vedo l'ora di portarti a fare un giro speciale più tardi,” I said with a smirk, grabbing my wine from the table and taking another sip afterward.

I watched Jake’s lips curve into a smirk and his eyes clouded over with lust before he released a breath and shook his head. “Damn, baby girl. I think that was just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” He breathed out, his accent thicker than usual.

“You don’t even know what I said,” I pointed out.

“Well, you could always tell me,” He offered up.

“Hm, I could. Or I could also let you wait and find out what I said later,” I said seductively, biting my lip.

Jake's eyes were immediately drawn to my lips and his eyes darkened even more when Bradley came over to our table and placed our food down in front of us. I thanked him with a bright smile and began to dig into my pasta as Jake started on his lobster. We continued a light conversation, talking about how work has been for him and how moving into my own home has been for me. He scolded me for moving heavy furniture by myself and I reassured him that I had the movers doing all of the work. We then moved on to the topic of his family. He had his mom and dad and three sisters, one older and two younger. All of them have settled down and had kids of their own. His oldest sister has two little girls, his middle sister has a daughter and son, and his youngest sister has two girls and two boys. He went on to tell me about how all of his nieces love me and my music and one of them just had a Presley Jo-themed birthday party.

“I didn’t know that was a thing,” I chuckled, thinking of all the little girls running around dressed as me at a children's birthday party.

“Well, my sisters and Mom made it a thing,” Jake told me, a fond grin on his face.

“I’d love to meet them someday,” I told him with a soft smile.

Jake looked back at me and grinned softly as well before giving me an adamant nod. “And you will. One day. When you feel safe and comfortable enough to let the world know, I’ll let the other important women in my life know.”

“You don’t have to keep me a complete secret from them, Jake. You can at least let them know you’re seeing somebody,” I reassured him.

“I know that… Now. I just didn’t want to make you feel pressured or feel forced into anything,” He argued with me.

I reached out and placed my hand on top of his arm and rubbed it soothingly. “You aren’t forcing me into anything. I’m all in. Willingly.”

Jake moved his arm to grasp my hand and began rubbing his thumb across the back of it before a soft smile overtook his face again. “All in, huh?”

I nodded at him and gazed into his eyes as Bradley came walking up to our table again. “I hope you guys saved room for dessert.”

Jake broke our gaze and looked up at Bradley to reply, but I cut him off. “We did. We’ll just take it to go.”

Bradley raised his eyebrow at me and I sent him a look with my eyes that helped him catch on.

“Oh! I will get that to go. I will go do that right now. As soon as possible,” Bradley nodded at me in understanding, rushing off to grab our dessert.

Jake turned and watched Bradley rush into the Hard Deck before turning and looking at me with raised eyebrows.

“What do you say we go back to my place and you find out what I said earlier,” I questioned him with a seductive smirk.

A smirk broke out on Jake’s face as well before he nodded in agreement. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jake refused to take his hand off my leg the entire drive back to my house. He alternated between squeezing my knee and running his hand up my thigh before resting it on my knee again. My left hand remained resting on the forearm of his hand, rubbing my thumb along his arm as he drove. When we reached my house, he pulled into the driveway before throwing his truck into the park. He looked over at me and softly told me to wait before climbing out of the car and moving around it to open my door for me. I turned to the side and Jake moved his way in between my legs, looking up at me with a soft smile. I smiled back at him and ran my hands from his shoulders and up into the back of his hair.

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight, darlin’,” He asked me softly.

“I’ve never been more sure about something in my life,” I told him softly before placing a kiss on his lips.

Jake hummed and deepened the kiss, placing his hands on my thighs and slowly moving them up to my waist, bunching my black dress up as he moved his hands. I released a breath and briefly skimmed my tongue along his lips before gripping his bottom lip in my teeth and tugging at it, releasing it after. Jake groaned and squeezed my hips before pulling away.

“I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me beautiful,” Jake rasped out to me.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” I whispered to him, giving his hair a soft tug before releasing.

I reached behind me and gripped our dessert in my hand before hopping down from my seat in the truck. I grabbed my clutch from the floorboard and reached into it to grab my keys before walking around Jake to walk up to my house. I looked behind me to see Jake closing the door to his truck, but not taking his eyes off of my form. I smirked at him before looking back forward and swinging my hips as I walked up my front porch to my front door. I unlocked my door and walked in, hearing Jake following close behind me. I took my heels off as Jake took his shoes off as well. He reached forward took dessert from my hands and moved toward my kitchen and I moved toward the stairs to go to my bedroom. I walked down the hall to the last room on the left and walked inside. I walked over to my vanity and placed my clutch down. I then moved to stand at the end of my bed and waited for Jake to join me.

“Last chance to change your mind, beautiful. Because once I get started, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop,” Jake said softly as he walked into my room, standing behind me at the foot of my bed.

I smirked before repeating what I said earlier. “Sei il mio bellissimo cowboy e non vedo l'ora di portarti a fare un giro speciale.”

“What does that mean,” Jake breathed out, moving my hair from my shoulder and beginning to run his nose softly along my neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake.

“You’re my handsome cowboy, and I can’t wait to take you for a special ride,” I breathed out, leaning back into him.

Jake let out a growl before gripping my waist tightly in his hands and pulling me back against him. He used one hand to hold my hair out of his way and the other wrapped around my waist. I reached up behind me and wrapped my arm around the back of his head, threading my fingers in his hair while my other hand gripped his arm wrapped around me. I gave soft tugs on his hair as Jake began devouring my neck, leaving kisses and love bites up and down the expanse of it. My grip became tighter and I tugged harder when Jake attacked the sweet spot at the back of my ear, causing him to release a groan of pleasure. I released a moan of pleasure in return and tightened my grip on the arm around my waist that was now holding me upright. Jake released his hold around my waist and slowly let his hand trail across my abdomen and around my back. He then brought his hand up to rest on the tie that was holding my dress up on my shoulder.

“Can I,” Jake breathed out in my ear, gripping my earlobe between his teeth after, and tugging at It.

“Yes, please, Jake. I want you to touch me,” I breathed out in response, nodding my head eagerly.

Jake released my hair and brought his other hand to rest on the zipper on the back of my dress. He pulled it down before placing his hands on both ties on my shoulders. He released the knots of both, causing my dress to slide down my body and rest around my feet on the floor. I spun in my spot, kicking my dress out of the way in the process. I looked up at Jake and bit my lip nervously as he stared down at me, taking in my bare breasts and my black lace underwear.

“You’re beautiful,” He breathed out before leaning down and kissing me.

I eagerly returned the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck, entangling one of my hands in his hair again and continuing to tug at it. Our kiss quickly became even more heated and I allowed Jake's tongue to invade my mouth. Jake placed his hands on my waist and moved them slowly down my sides, over my butt, and down to my thighs.

“Jump,” Jake breathed out against my lips, causing me to do so without breaking my kiss with him.

Jake placed one arm around my back to keep me pressed against him and another on my thigh to keep my legs wrapped around his waist. He stepped forward and placed a knee on the bed before leaning forward and laying me down. Our kiss did not break as my back gently came in contact with the bed and Jake slotted himself between my legs. I released a moan as his pelvis grinded down against mine and I rutted against him to try and feel the friction again.

“Oh, god, Jake,” I moaned out against his lips, breathing heavily as he began trailing kisses down my neck again.

I reached down and gripped Jake’s hand resting on my waist in my own and began guiding it up my chest until it rested on my left breast, my chest heaving up and down in his palm. Jake groaned and trailed his kisses down in between my breasts where he rested his forehead for a moment.

“You are going to be the death of me,” He breathed against my chest before moving his head to my right breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth as his other hand began playing with my breast.

“At least you’ll die a happy man,” I moaned out, gripping his hair in my hands and pulling.

Jake let out a groan of agreement as he continued paying attention to my right breast. He sucked and licked at the skin before gripping the nipple between his teeth and giving a slight tug. He smirked up at me when I released a borderline pornographic moan at his actions.

“Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t been touched by anyone in so long,” I breathed out to him.

“Well then, let’s change that shall we,” Jake said before switching breasts and repeating his previous actions on my left breast, his hand playing with my right and eliciting more moans from me.

“Jake, I need you to touch me,” I moaned out.

Jake released my left breast with a pop and began kissing his way back up my chest, to my neck, and my jaw, then placing a breathless kiss on my lips.

“How do you want me, Darlin’,” He breathed out against my lips.

“I just need to feel something, please,” I begged him, connecting my lips back to his and removing my hands from where they were tangled in his hair.

I trailed my hands from around his neck and down to his button-up to begin working on removing it. My hand fumbled down the length of his shirt as I tried to unbutton it as quickly as possible. Once I reached the last button, I brought my hands to Jake’s shoulders to remove the currently offensive fabric. Jake assisted me in my endeavor and wasted no time in pulling the fabric down his arms and tossing it haphazardly across my room. With the fabric no longer in the way, his dog tags were able to hang freely from his neck and run along my chest. I let my hands run down the toned plains of his chest and down to his abs, feeling the rock-hard muscle beneath my fingers. I then let my fingers trail down farther to his dress pants, letting my fingers hook in the belt loops and give a tug, causing Jake’s pelvis to once again come in contact with my own. I released a moan at the contact and allowed my hands to trail lower past Jake’s belt and to the growing member straining against his pants. I let my hands trail over the shape and squeezed slightly, causing Jake to break from our kiss to release a groan of immense pleasure. Jake reached down and grasped my hands in his own and pulled them up to place a kiss on each of them.

“This is all about you Darlin’,” He told me softly, taking both of my hands and placing them back on his neck.

I smiled softly up at him at his words and gripped his chain in one of my hands, pulling him down to connect my lips back to his. He placed a chaste kiss on my lips before trailing his kisses down my neck, to my chest, down my stomach, before stopping at my black lace panties. He looked up at me with a questioning look, and all it took was a soft nod from me for him to grip my underwear in his hands and slowly tug them down my legs. He trailed kisses in the fabric's wake until they were completely removed, tossing them over his shoulder. He then trailed kisses back up my legs, leaving some on the inside of my thighs, before placing another one just above where I wanted him the most. He raised himself from the bed and away from me, causing me to whine in protest and reach for him.

“Let me see all of you, Darlin’,” He said breathlessly, looking down at me with adoration.

I smirked at him before opening my legs wide, allowing him to see everything I had to offer him. Jake groaned at the sight and ran a hand down his face.

“All of this for me,” He breathed out.

I nodded at him wordlessly before reaching forward and gripping his hand in my own once again. I looked up at him and stared into his eyes as I guided his hand down to where I needed him most. Jake released a groan when he felt how wet I was and I released his hand to let him do as he pleased. Jake ran his fingers along my folds, gathering my wetness as he did. I couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of him touching me so delicately, feeling like I could combust right now and he hasn’t even properly touched me yet.

“Jake, please,” I breathed out, looking up at him desperately.

Jake listened to my pleas and delicately slid a single finger into my entrance, bringing his thumb up to rub at my clit at the same time. Jake leaned back forward, holding himself up with his free hand, and brought me into a searing kiss. I couldn’t help but arch my back up into him and grip the bedsheets tightly in my fists. I broke away from Jake and brought my hands up to cup his face. 

“Jake, I need more,” I breathed against his lips, desperate to reach my first high.

I felt Jake nod before sliding one more finger in with his first and resuming our desperate kisses. The pleasure was so blinding that I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like when he was actually inside of me. Jake began pumping his fingers in and out of me, spreading me wide with his fingers occasionally. I couldn’t help myself and began grinding myself against his hand, feeling the cool metal of his graduation ring occasionally graze against my heat. Jake, seeing this, began curling his fingers while inside of me, searching for that sweet spot I desperately craved for him to find. When he finally came in contact with it, I reached down and gripped his arm tightly in my own, breaking our kisses once again.

“Fuck, right there. Don’t stop, please, I’m so close,” I told him, feeling my climax beginning to come quickly.

Upon hearing my words, Jake removed his fingers from their current location. I gasped in shock and looked up at him in disbelief before I watched him bring his hand up to his lips and suck his fingers clean of my arousal. My skin burned like fire at his actions and I couldn’t help but reach for him, pulling him back to me and bringing my lips to his, tasting myself in our kiss. Jake broke the kiss himself this time and trailed kisses down my neck, and my chest and paid special attention to my breasts briefly, before trailing his lips down my abdomen and stopping above my clit. His breath fanned softly across it as he looked up at me with a smirk. I raised myself onto my elbows to look down at him, lifting one of my hands to run through his hair.

“Don’t worry Darlin’. I’ll get you there again,” Jake reassured me before diving in like a man who didn’t just have dinner less than an hour ago.

“Oh, god,” I moaned out, falling onto my back and tightening my grip on his hair.

I couldn’t stop the mewls and moans as Jake licked a stripe from my entrance to my clit before focusing on my sensitive bud. He sucked and lapped at the bundle of nerves as he threw both of my legs over his shoulders and yanked me to the end of the bed so he could have proper access. He placed a hand on my abdomen to prevent me from moving and used his other to hold my thighs open properly. I felt the distinct pinch of his teeth tugging on my clit and felt myself jump briefly, Jake struggling to hold me down at my unexpected jolt.

“Fuck, Jake.”

Jake let his tongue trail down to my soaking entrance and delved in with his tongue, letting it poke and prod at my entrance a few times before returning to my clit and sliding his fingers back inside of me. I felt myself begin to tingle with anticipation of my release, the coil inside of my belly beginning to tighten with every swipe of his tongue and every insertion of his fingers.

“Jake, I’m close,” I told him, my legs beginning to tighten in his grip.

“Let go, Darlin’. Don’t hold anything back,” He breathed out against me before continuing his work.

“Oh. Oh, god,” I moaned, gripping his hair tighter with one hand and bringing my other hand to grip my breast, kneading and pinching the mound.

The coil became tighter and tighter until- 

“I- I’m,” I didn’t get to finish my statement before I released on Jake's tongue and fingers, feeling the aviator lap up my juices until I was finished.

He raised from his position and hovered over me, wiping his chin with his hand and looking at me smugly.

“How was that, Darlin’,” Jake questioned smugly.

“I think you’re the first guy to find my clit without any sort of guidance. That was so hot,” I breathed, reaching forward and gripping his dog tags in my grip.

I pulled him down to me and placed my lips against his again, him placing his hands back on my waist. I let my hand trail down his body once again and began pulling at his belt, releasing the item from the buckle and pulling it from his pants. I then unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down before finding the waistband to his boxer briefs. I gripped the waistband briefly before releasing it, letting it snap back into place against his waist and smirking against Jake’s lips when he flinched slightly. I returned my hand to its previous position and slipped it past the waistband of his underwear, gripping his hard member in my hand. I brought my thumb to the tip and gathered the precum at the end, swirling it around the head and using it as lubrication to begin pumping Jake’s cock. Jake bucked into my hand briefly before breaking our kiss and reaching down to grab my hand in his own, pulling it from his underwear.

“Darlin’, as much as I love having my dick in your hand, and trust me, I do, I would much rather be inside you right now,” He breathed out against my lips.

I nodded at him in acknowledgment. “Okay. I need you inside of me.”

Jake groaned and nodded back. “Lay down.”

I quickly moved to lie down on my back at the head of the bed, resting my head against the pillows. I watched as Jake stripped himself of his pants and underwear, standing before me at the end of the bed, in all his glory. I moaned at the sight of his cock, and felt myself grow even wetter at the thought of it filling me up completely. Jake slowly crawled up the bed until he was hovering over me and placed a delicate kiss on my lips before pulling away.

“Are you-,” He started, but I cut him off.

“I’m on birth control. But I would still much rather use a condom. It’s our first time together and you can never be too safe,” I told him.

Jake nodded at me in understanding. “I have one in my wallet,” He started, moving to go to the end of the bed.

“Don’t worry about it. I have some in my bedside table,” I told him, gesturing to the table on the right side of my bed and not wanting him to move too far away from me.

Jake smirked at me before reaching for my drawer, pulling it open, and reaching in to grab a condom from the box. Jake ripped the package open and withdrew the rubber, throwing the package to the side and moving to slide the condom down his length. When he had it placed properly, he leaned back over me, resting on his forearms, and looked into my eyes. He brought his hand up and tucked some of my hair behind my ear.

“I’m going to go slow. Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay,” Jake whispered to me.

I nodded at him and leaned up to bring him into another kiss as he positioned himself at my entrance, letting the tip of his cock run up towards my clit before trailing back down. I moaned at the feeling and brought my legs up to wrap around his waist. I tightened them, causing Jake to move closer to me and his cock to poke even more at my entrance. Sensing my urgency, Jake let the head of his cock enter me, giving me a moment to acquaint myself with the stretch. I moaned as he waited a moment before pushing further in until he was about halfway inside me.

“You can go all the way, Jake. I can take it,” I reassured him, wrapping my arms around his neck and threading one of my hands into his hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Darlin’,” Jake expressed.

“You won’t. I promise,” I reassured him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Jake nodded before pressing himself completely inside me. The two of us simultaneously released moans of pleasure followed by a breathless expression of “You’re so big” and Jake’s  statement of “You’re so tight.” Jake rested his forehead against my own as he waited for me to adjust to his size, occasionally placing a kiss on my nose and cheeks.

“Are you okay, Darlin’,” Jake asked me softly.

I nodded, wrapping my arms under his own and around his shoulders, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips.

“Can I move,” He asked, beginning to breathe heavily due to his restraint.

I took a deep breath myself and focused on the feeling of Jake inside me. I moaned softly, and bucked my hips, nodding at him.

“Yes, please.”

Jake nodded back before he started moving. He withdrew himself briefly before pushing back in and beginning a torturously slow pace. I moaned at his movement, feeling him move in and out of me, my walls fluttering and squeezing him as he moved. Jake thrust two… three more times before adjusting his position, raising himself to rest his weight on his hands in an attempt to reach my sweet spot. I couldn’t help but clench at the new position, causing him to groan in pleasure and stutter his hips.

“If you keep squeezin’ me like that, I’m not going to last long.”

“You haven’t had sex with anybody but your hand since you met me, I didn’t expect you to last very long anyways,” I breathlessly said to him, a smirk taking over my face.

Jake looked down at me in slight shock before smirking back at me. “You little…”

Jake trailed off and began thrusting inside of me again, immediately hitting my G-spot with his quick, unexpected thrust. My back arched off the bed in response and I tightened my legs around his waist. Jake continued his quick thrusts instead of returning to his torturously slow pace from before. I moaned at the feeling of him inside me, feeling him fill me up totally and completely before receding and repeating the process. Jake leaned down and began an assault on my breasts once again, placing kisses on the mounds before taking the pert nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling as he pleased. I moaned in pleasure at the combination before I took his distraction to my advantage. I tightened my legs around his waist and wrapped my arms around his neck before trying to gain leverage and flip Jake onto his back, myself now on top. Jake remained inside me throughout my actions and I felt him twitch inside me at the new position, placing one hand on my thigh and the other on my waist as a smirk formed once again.

“What the hell is this, Darlin’? I said tonight was about you,” Jake reminded me.

“And I told you I couldn't wait to take you for a ride if I remember correctly,” I responded to him breathlessly. 

I adjusted my position above Jake, still not removing him from inside me as I did so. Jake bucked his hips up into me at my movements, causing him to hit my G-spot once again with his actions. I paused in my movement and briefly clenched, causing the two of us to moan in unison, Jake's hands tightening their grip slightly on my waist. I paused for a moment and stared down at the pleasure on Jake’s face before moving again. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and braced myself on his chest before leaning down to capture his lips with my own again. It was a chaste kiss that had Jake chasing me for more as I pulled away, fully sitting up with me and looking up at me with adoration. I placed another peck on his lips and smiled at him softly, running my fingers through his hair before remaining tangled in the hair on the back of his head. Jake smiled back at me, bringing his hand resting on my waist up to brush some of my hair back behind my ear before resting it on my cheek and pulling me into a kiss that quickly became all teeth and tongue. Jake trailed his hand from my cheek, down my jaw and neck, across my chest, stopping briefly to knead my breast in his hand before wrapping his arm around my waist instead of placing his hand where it was previously. I wrapped one of my arms around his neck and began moving my hips, bouncing up and down on him. He tightened his arm that was wrapped around my waist to bring me closer and brought his other hand up to grip my ass, helping me with my movements on top of him. We broke our kiss, our foreheads pressing together as our breaths intermingled with strangled moans escaping from the both of us.

“You’re taking me so well Darlin,” Jake groaned out, not stopping with his assistance in my movements.

I breathed out a moan in response, letting my forehead fall against Jake’s shoulder as he placed kisses along my shoulder. I continued bouncing on him, feeling myself slowly build up to release.

“I’m getting close,” I whimpered into his ear, letting my tongue dart out and lick along his neck, nipping lightly at his shoulder.

Jake nodded in response, bringing one of his hands down to rub at my clit. I moaned at the added stimulation, lifting myself from his shoulder and staring down at him. Jake looked up at me and brought his head forward to take my breast in his mouth, sucking on it and biting my nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed out, feeling the knot in my stomach grown tighter.

I brought my other hand back around Jake’s threaded my hands back in his hair and tugged causing him to groan against my chest. I could feel the pressure in my abdomen building and building before it finally burst, causing me to release the loudest and lewdest moan I’ve ever released in my life. Jake continued to assist me in riding out my high, flipping us back over, thrusting three more times before he came as well, continuing his thrusts to help us both through our orgasm. When we both were finished Jake allowed himself to collapse onto the bed beside me, the two of us breathing heavily from our activities.

“After seeing you ride me as well as you did just now, darlin’, I can’t wait to take you back home and see you ride an actual horse,” Jake panted out between breaths, causing me to burst into a fit of giggles, him following shortly after me.

“So, I told you all about my family tonight. I think it’s only fair that you tell me all about yours,” Jake requested as the two of us rested in a hot bubble bath following our activities.

“Well, what do you want to know,” I asked him, taking another bite out of the chocolate cake that was supposed to be our dessert at the Hard Deck.

“Everything,” Jake replied, placing a kiss on the side of my head before accepting the bite of cake I offered him.

I sighed and nodded before turning so I could rest my back against his chest.

“My mom met my dad when she was 21, he was about 23. Grandpa Benjamin thought she was old enough to start attending Navy events with the family. She met my dad at the Navy ball, the first event she ever attended. He was there with my Pops and Nonna. Like I said before, Pops was in the Navy and Dad decided to follow in his footsteps, wanted to make him proud. From what I understand, he was obsessed with my mom the first moment he saw her. At least, that’s what Mav and Ice say,” I told him, leaning my head back to rest on his shoulder.

“They knew your parents,” Jake asked curiously.

“Mhm. So did Bradley’s,”  I told him, feeling tears build up in my eyes at the thought of my parents. “Anyways, he, uh, walked right up to my mom, not realizing she was the daughter of an admiral, and introduced himself, asked her to dance. Do you know why my parents named me Presley?”

“Let me guess, the first song they danced to was “Can’t Help Falling in Love”,” Jake asked smugly, wrapping his arms around me.

“No, actually, it was “Love Me Tender.” Good guess though,” I said sarcastically, giving his arm a pinch. “The two of them fell in love that night and couldn’t get enough of each other from that moment on. Then a few years later they got married and along came me. They had all the support they needed from mom’s family and all their friends. Dad’s parents weren’t a big fan though. They didn’t like how mom stuck up for dad and refused to let them treat him how they did.”

“Do you have much of a relationship with your dad's parents,” Jake asked curiously.

“No, they both passed when I was young, but that’s not the only reason. From the stories, Penny told me, Dad never got along with the two of them. Pops was pissed when he found out Dad was going to be an aviator instead of a seal. He got over it eventually, but it still was something he constantly poked at Dad for any chance he got. Dad had a falling out with them when he told them he was going to ask mom to marry him. When she got pregnant with me, Pops tried to reconcile with him for the sake of Nonna having contact with her grandchild, but it didn’t go over too well. Dad ended up telling him my last name would be Benjamin because his future child didn’t deserve to be connected to an asshole like him,” I murmured.

“How were things after that,” Jake asked curiously.

“From what I remember, Mom and Dad were great and happy. Deployments were always hard, but Mom tried as hard as she could to make it easier. We had this thing where every Friday after school she would come and pick me up, then we would stop and get takeout somewhere, then we would come home and watch “The Princess Bride.” Then, before bed Dad would normally call and read me a story,” I said fondly.

“‘The Princess Bride’? Really,” Jake asked me in disbelief.

“Hey, it was my favorite as a kid and it’s a classic. It’s still my comfort movie to this day,” I defended.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, Buttercup,” Jake said with a smirk.

I groaned at his words. “I didn’t tell you so you could come up with a new nickname for me.”

“Well too late now,” Jake chuckled, placing a kiss behind my ear. “What happened with your parents?”

“Surprisingly, Dad didn’t die while deployed. He and mom were in a car accident. They went to a friend's wedding out of town, I was staying with Penny that night. They were driving back home and were t-boned by a drunk driver who ran a red light. Their car spun out and slammed into a pole,” I explained to him, fighting back the tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered to me.

“It’s okay. Sometimes I just sit here and wonder what life would be like now if they were still around. And I wonder if they’re proud of me, wherever they are,” I said quietly.

“I guarantee you they are,” Jake reassured me.

I just hummed in response, leaning my head on his chest and letting my eyes close. Jake noticing this, decided to call it a night.

“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you to bed,” Jake whispered to me, helping me lean up and climbing out of the tub with me, drying me off and getting me into bed.

As I was drifting off to sleep I noticed that for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a problem with being called “Princess.”

The moonlight streamed through the windows and cast a glow on the couple lying with each other in bed. Presley sucked in a deep breath before turning over. Just as the clock struck midnight she shot up in bed with wide eyes.

“This ain't for the best, my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me,” she muttered to herself in deep thought before hopping out of bed.

She leaned down and grabbed Jake's shirt from the floor, pulling it on and buttoning it, grabbing her underwear and slipping them on as well before rushing out of the room. She ran down the hall and downstairs, running through the halls downstairs humming the tune to herself over and over again until she reached her music room. She continued humming as she rushed over to the closet and yanked the door open, pulling boxes out and throwing everything in them out onto the floor. Digging through a few until she found what she was looking for, her notebook. She dug in the box until she found a pen then moved to the piano, writing down everything that was running through her mind.

Jake woke up alone in bed. He furrowed his brows in his sleep and rolled over, reaching out for Presley. His eyes shot open when he noticed her side of the bed was cold. He leaned up and looked over, seeing her missing. He looked around the room and saw no sign of the girl still being present. He climbed out of bed and grabbed his underwear off the floor, pulling them on before walking out into the hallway. He stuck his head out and looked down the hall.

“Pres,” he called out.

When he received no answer back he walked down the hall and looked inside each room until he reached the top of the stairs. He stood at the top and looked down, calling out for Presley again. He strained to listen when he heard something and walked down the stairs, the noise getting louder as he went. He followed the noise through the living room and grinned when he realized it was the piano. He followed the sound to the music room and peeked in, seeing his girlfriend leaning over the piano writing quick notes before staring at them in thought and playing the piano again. He leaned against the doorway as he witnessed her process, seeing her mark words out before sighing in frustration and rewriting them.

“What's up, Buttercup,” Jake called out to her, watching her jump slightly before looking back at him.

“I'm sorry if I woke you,” she told him softly before going back to her notebook.

“You didn't,” he reassured her, moving into the room and standing behind her.

“I just had to get this written down before I forgot it all,” she explained to him, looking over the words she had written down.

“What are you writing,” he asked her curiously, leaning down to rest his head on her shoulder and placing a few kisses against her neck.

“My newest lightning strike of inspiration,” she said simply, placing her hands over the keys before playing. “Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black. Come here, you can meet me in the back. Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you. Oh damn, never seen that color green. Just think of the fun things we could do. This ain’t for the best. My reputation’s never been worse, so you must like me for me. We can’t make any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink. Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you’re in my head? ‘Cause I know that it’s delicate. Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? ‘Cause I know that it’s delicate.”

She stopped playing and Jake lifted his head from her shoulder, kissing the side of her head before whispering in her ear. “Good to know that I’m your muse.”

Presley couldn’t help but smile and blush at his words, shaking her head at him. “You’re more than that.”

“Am I? I think you’re just using me for inspiration now,”  He joked with her, kissing her neck. Presley moved her head to the side to give Jake more space. He brushed her hair out of the way and nipped and sucked at her neck as she released small moans at his actions. “Come back to bed, I’ll give you some more inspiration.”

Presley could feel his smirk against the skin of her neck, and she was tempted to say yes, but she couldn’t go back to bed yet. She shook her head and shrugged Jake off. “I can’t. I have to finish this. I’m almost done. I just have one more verse.”

Jake released himself from her neck and furrowed his brows as he pouted at his girlfriend. She ignored him as she focused back on her notebook. Jake finally took the time to look at her notebook and see all of the notes and work.

“Presley,” Jake said, gaining the girl's attention with a ‘hm?’ in response. “Exactly how long have you been up working on this,” He questioned in a tone of suspicion.

Presley released a sigh of frustration at his question. “Not that long. I’ve only been up for” She cut herself off when she looked up at the clock in the music room, seeing the hour hand on 3. “3 hours…,” She trailed off sheepishly.

“3 hours,” Jake exclaimed in shock.

“I guess I lost track of time,” She said sheepishly, turning to look at her boyfriend and finally taking the time to notice his messy hair and boxer briefs.

Jake shook his head at her before sighing. “Come on, you’re going back to bed.”

He reached to grab her but she wiggled out of his grip and moved to climb on top of the piano, knocking her notebook and pen to the ground and causing an unpleasing noise from stepping on the keys. Jake grabbed her ankle and pulled her closer to him, kicking the cover of the keys and making it snap shut.

“No, I don’t want to go to bed,” She said childishly, trying to kick Jake’s grip from her ankle.

“It’s either you come to bed or I join you on top of the piano,” He said childishly, not letting go of her ankle.

Presley stopped moving and turned over onto her back, slowly leaning up onto her elbows to look down at the blonde aviator.

“That doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea,” She said seductively to him.

Jake, hearing her tone of voice and seeing where she was going smirked at her. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Princess.”

Presley only smirked, sitting up on top of the piano and staring down at Jake seductively as she reached up to her chest and began to slowly unbutton Jake’s dress shirt she was still wearing. Jake groaned at the newly exposed skin, watching her continue down until the shirt was sitting open, exposing her chest but still hiding her breasts and showing off the black lace underwear she had placed back on.

“Oh, the things you do to me, Darlin’,” He groaned out to her before moving directly in front of her, gripping the black lace underwear in both of his hands and tugging them down her legs in one quick movement, throwing them over his shoulder before positioning himself in front of her. He then grabbed both of her legs and threw them over his shoulders before absolutely devouring her like a starved man on top of the piano.

“Oh, fuck, Jake,” She immediately moaned out, reaching down to grip his hair in her hand.

Presley allowed herself to sink back on the piano, laying across the top of it and sliding as Jake pulled her closer to the edge for better access. She tightened her grip on his hair as he ran his tongue through her folds before focusing his attention on her clit, sucking the bud into his mouth before nipping at it with his teeth. Presley brought her other hand up to her chest and moved Jake’s shirt from where it was covering her breasts. She then gripped one of her heaving breasts in her hand and began kneading the flesh, occasionally tweaking her sensitive nipples. Jake looked up at her from where he was devouring her to take in the sight before him. He felt himself grow hard as she assisted in working herself to the edge, groaning at the sight. Jake focused back on his task, letting his tongue run down her folds before fucking her hole with his tongue.

“Oh, god, keep going,” Presley moaned, releasing her nipple to run her hand down her body.

She let her fingers run down to begin stroking her clit as Jake continued his work, but the aviator was quick to slap her hand away and move one of his own in her place, rubbing his thumb over her clit in figure 8’s as he continued tongue fucking her.

“Oh, fuck, Jake, I’m close,” She whimpered out to him.

“Give me all you got, Princess,” He demanded before diving back in.

Presley’s breathing increased as she felt the knot in her stomach grow tighter and tighter before it released, a moan of Jake’s name falling from her lips. Jake continued, working Presley through her orgasm and eagerly lapping up all of her juices. She continued breathing heavily as she came down from her high, Jake leaned up from his position, wiping his mouth and laying her legs back down. He began kissing her thighs, leading up to her hips, placing kisses there before gripping them in his hands, pulling her towards him and off the piano, kissing his way up her abdomen, and across her chest. Paid special attention to her breasts, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her nipples, sucking and nipping them between his teeth before releasing them, traveling back up her chest and her neck before placing another kiss on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and moaning as she tasted herself on his tongue. Jake broke the kiss, placing a peck on her lips, nose, and cheeks before stopping and placing one on her forehead.

“Come on, Princess. Let’s go to bed,” He whispered to her.

“Okay,” She whispered back eyes already falling shut. “What about you though,” She brought up, reaching forward to the waistband of his underwear when she noticed the prominent bulge.

“Don’t worry about me Buttercup. You’re more important,” He reassured her, adjusting his shirt to cover her once again before picking her up bridal style and carrying her back upstairs to bed.

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me@hookslove1592 @smoothdogsgirl @mrsevans90

[oneforthemunny]

since @lesservillain moodboard, i’ve been thinking about summerween with eddie with very careful thought.

eddie gets an itch, a craving, an incessant need to dig out halloween decorations in the middle of the summer- during a heatwave, for whatever reason. you’re terribly confused on why he’d open the attic, bitching at him for letting all that hot air in. the air conditioner unit was hanging on by a thread as it is, and the small attic space just amplified the already sweltering room.

“babe, i’ve got a really good idea.” eddie comes out grinning, holding the plastic tub labeled ‘spooky shit’ in eddie’s scribbled writing on top. his eyes are wide, smile even wider and more erratic. you know he’s got a wild hair, an idea that has you both excited and a little apprehensive.

halloween movies in the late june seemed odd. the season was close enough, why rush it? eddie was beyond excited. excited to rig up an old sheet, snag a projector from some buddy at work. how he’s convinced gareth’s mom to let them use the backyard (after the bonfire incident of ‘85) you weren’t sure, but you’d helped him set up. sweating and placing the faux gravestones into the ground in the hot temperatures.

eddie had scrounged together a line up, a mix of classics and slashers, all ones you’d watch in the later months of fall. when the leaves were changing and days got shorter, normally cuddled on eddie’s couch to stay warm. for now, you laid on the blankets over the ground, knees touching his, sharing popcorn out of the plastic halloween bowl with all his friends.

“i gotta admit,” you hummed, looking back at eddie, the dull light of the projector illuminating over your features. “this was a pretty good idea.”

eddie grinned proudly. “yeah? i think everyone likes it.” he looked around at all his friends, some chatting, others locked in on the screen.

“they definitely are.” you smiled back, knocking your shoulder to his gently. “i am too.”

“good. ‘m glad you are.” eddie beamed, leaning closer to you. “i’ll put beetlejuice on next, just for you.” he pecked your lips gently, a sweet kiss that left you swooning.

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Movie Night

WARNINGS: Plenty of smut, mentions of alcohol. Viewer discretion advised.

PLOT: It’s party time over with the Pogues! While inside grabbing extra drinks and popcorn, JJ finds you and can’t resist himself…

Crickets chirp and decorative lights make the backyard glow as you and the Pogues get ready for a movie night.

“Hey! Over here!” John B tosses a bag of Doritos over to JJ, narrowly missing Kiara’s head.

“Watch it!” She snaps and rolls her eyes at you. “Boys.”

Chuckling, you help set up lawn chairs in front of the large projection screen in the middle of the yard.

Once everything’s ready, you turn on the projector and the movie starts rolling. Settling down in a chair next to your friends, laughter soon fills the night. Beer and soda bottles, chocolate bar wrappers, and popcorn litter the grass.

“Hey y/n, mind grabbing us some more popcorn? It’s in the kitchen.” John B says to you.

“Why is it my job?” You complain.

“Because you do it the best.” John gives you his best puppy eyes. “Oh, and could you grab us a few more beers while you’re at it?” He adds.

“Sounds like he’s too lazy to do it himself,”Pope comments. His friend shoves him playfully.

Sighing, you get up and head into the house. As you wait for the popcorn to pop, you hear someone come in the door.

“Hey, babe,” JJ says with a smirk.

When you first came to the Outer Banks, you never dreamed of dating the one and only JJ Maybank, drop-dead gorgeous Pogue with golden blonde hair and sexy blue eyes to match. But then again, you were known for being irresistible too.

“Need something, Jay?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replies lazily. “Just, you know, you.” This is nothing new. JJ is definitely the flirtatious type, but with you he does nothing less than smother you with compliments and adoration every hour of the day. You don’t mind, of course.

He steers you into the living room, where he backs you into the wall and places hands on either side of you.

“JJ…?” You ask with a slight smile. “What are you doing…?” 

“What I can’t resist doing when I’m around you.” And he crashes his lips into yours, forcing you straight up against the wall as he fills you with his heat.

As he pulls away, you kiss him again without hesitation, cupping his face in your hands.

Just then, Pope walks in, his mouth agape as he sees you two making out. You pull away quickly, blushing slightly.

“What are you-? You know what, I don’t want to know.” Shaking his head, he leaves the room.

“Oops.” You and JJ giggle at each other. “Guess we better get the snacks.” 

Outside again, John B cheers when he sees the fresh popcorn and beverages and Pope eyes you suspiciously. You ignore him and get right back to having fun, downing several shots; JJ’s arm wrapped around your shoulders.

                       ｡･:*˚:✧･:*˚:✧｡

Later that night, while the rest of the group is in the living room in their sleeping bags chatting, you and JJ sneak up to the bedroom, with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom.

Laughing quietly, you shut the door behind you. JJ picks you up by the waist and tosses you onto the bed carefully.

In a matter of seconds he’s on top of you, his lips pressed against your mouth and tongue traveling inside. You can sense his growing erection against his pants as you kiss.

Clothes are tossed aside as well as your bra and panties, and JJ begins massaging your breasts, earning a few moans from you. His mouth sucks your tender tits again and again, making them wet.

You move down to suck on his hard cock, trying to fit his entire member in your mouth at one time. You stroke the parts that remain exposed.

JJ moans out your name, eyes watering in pleasure. He slides one finger, then two, inside your wet pussy. “JJ…” you whine.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He slides himself in little by little, waiting for you to get used to his size. You arch your back in pleasure as he thrusts in and out, moaning into his mouth. 

“JJ…” you gasp. “I’m going to… c-come…”

“Go ahead, beautiful,” he responds, his words coming out strained.

You reach your climaxes at the same time, hand covering your mouth to stop yourself from full-on screaming. Coming back down, JJ’s thrusts become weaker until finally he pulls himself out, breathing heavily.

After you lay on the bed, waiting out the overstimulation, you head to the bathroom to clean each other off.

Tiptoeing cautiously back into the living room, Kiara asks sleepily, “Where have you guys been?”

“Oh, nowhere,” you say together with grins on your faces.