#and how she says she maybe wants to be an agent in the future :)

[mirrorhouse]

You did this? ...Yeah! Yeah, I did this.

[buckyalpine]

An idea!

Maybe an FWB situation with BestestFriend!BuckyxAvenger!Reader they do it mostly for Bucky after a long, gruesome, taxing mission. Bucky made it clear that no feelings must be involved. He also made it clear that he’s not into her as he is still very much inlove and hung up with his ex. Basically this FWB situation mostly benefits Bucky, even Nat thinks it’s not really a FWB, just Bucky using her. But she doesn’t mind. Bucky is a good fuck. Like damnnn good. And if she can’t have Bucky as a romantic partner, she’ll take what she can get. Besides, Bucky told her that he doesn’t want an avenger or an agent as a partner. Too much danger and chaos for his heart. He wants to love a civilian like his ex, in hopes of living a normal life after retiring.

So, she starts distancing herself when she sees Bucky slowly trying to get back with his ex. Less sex, more excuses. But for some reason? Bucky does not like it. He does not like how you were not there anymore, how you don’t need nor seek him for the “benefit,” he’s also not that happy with whatever he’s doing to win his ex back. She doesn’t necessarily reject him when he asks for sex, just avoids him all in all. Day by day though, she consumes his thoughts and mind. Did he do something wrong? Say something? Forget something? What did he do to deserve this treatment from her? Bottom line, he misses her. What’s weird is, she’s still there as his best friend when he needs either steve or her. Just less of that benefits part

Then it grows progressively worse (for Bucky) from there as he sees her bring one night stands, to consistent and stable dates in their home. He’s still happy tho Bc if the date goes wrong or the one night stand doesn’t satisfy her, she goes to Bucky for a satisfying sex.

However, what pushes Bucky over the edge was one night filled with passion. Both of them feels this sex is different. One thinks he’s doing and feeling this extreme emotion Bc he’s angry while the other thinks she’s just frustrated. But the truth is? It’s passion and connection between them. She feels so good that she can’t help but blurt out “oh god I wish my future boyfriend/husband could fuck and fill me up like you do”

That’s it for Bucky. Those words are enough to make him feral. Just the thought of another man giving her attention, affection, love, adoration, and faithfulness makes him sick to the core. So, He fucks her with all his might, all his feelings. He fucks her with all the possessiveness and the green monster inside him. He fucks her in hopes of filling her full and deep that no other man can reach and own her like he does. (Maybe even breed her so that no man would actually be with her, but him)

Bc how bold of her to think that he would let another man touch her. That he would let her wear someone else’s ring and last name? That he would let her carry another man’s babies? No. Absolutely not.

Obviously this confuses her, but she thinks of it as part of their play. Maybe heat of the moment? Whatever it is, it’s hot and made their sex better so she didn’t question Bucky as of the moment.

Come next morning, she wakes up buried in bucky’s arms tightly and securedly wrapped around her as if she would disappear any moment. She has things to do so she attempts to leave but this just wakes Bucky up. She was abt to say something but Bucky just kisses her passionately yes Bucky now admits what it is. Not letting her go and aiming for another hot steamy possessive sex. Her words from last night ringing in his ears as she tries to leave.

Idk what to do next, I just want them to be happy and together in the end (maybe fast forward to their wedding? To them having twins?) 😭 then maybe the last line was like “well my love, you’re lucky your husband could fuck and fill you just like I did when we were fuck buddies”

18+

This is so perfect, i love this and that ending line is sending me, its so angsty and steamy and fuck it's so cute. Literally had to pull out a google doc to paste the request so I could look at my draft and the points side by side cause of all the details, I’m so sorry if I missed anything 

-

“Strictly sex?”

“Strictly sex” 

Bucky’s lips smashed onto yours as soon as the words left your mouth, the both of you clawing off your tactical gear, throwing it off haphazardly. You didn’t even make it to the bedroom; Bucky had taken you right in the middle of the safe house floor, no prep, sliding into you and fucking you till the sun was up. 

Moments earlier

The mission was long. Stressful. Violent. Bloody. You weren’t even sure if you’d make it but you’d both made it out alive. You’d noticed Bucky on edge the entire time, his jaw clenched, fingers twitching while you tried to patch up a few scratches on yourself. 

“You okay Buck?”

“M’fine” He mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, resting on the wall of the jet letting out a strained groan. 

“You don’t seem fine” You gave him a pointed look, clearly not believing him. “What do you normally do to relax” You cocked an eyebrow while Bucky stared at you, his eyes turning a shade darker. 

“Fuck” His eyes bore into you, challenging you to ask more questions, his patience wearing thin. “I fuck” 

“I can help with that” 

*****

“So what’s with you and y/n?” 

“Nothin’“

“You’re saying there's nothing?”

“I- I’m not over Lauren yet” Bucky shrugged, his mind constantly clinging onto his ex. She was the first girl he had dated in years and the first girl he felt anything for in a long time. The break up was mutual; his job took up long hours and the longer he was away, the more they grew apart. The split was made sense but he couldn’t let go of the lingering feeling in the back of his mind about how things would have been if he had just tried harder. Bucky set down the mug he was drinking from, leaving the kitchen while you entered. He gave you a nod, making his way to the gym to punch his feelings away. What if he had just tried harder...

Nat shrugged, not pushing the matter further but she never believed either of you when you both insisted there was nothing more between you. She knew damn well Bucky was using you to fuck his feelings away but it didn’t seem to bother you. You were more than satisfied with some super solder dick because it was good. Damn good. Still, she was a trained assassin and not stupid. Nat could see the way your eyes would linger on him for a second longer and the way you’d lighten up as soon as he stepped into the room. 

“So you and Barnes are just friends, huh?” 

“Obviously” You looked at her with wide eyes, hoping to ignore her question while you made yourself some tea but she continued to stare at your instead. “It’s nothing more than that. We hook up sometimes but it’s just casual”

“And you’re completely okay with things staying just the way they are?”  She cocked an eyebrow, her eyes narrowed accusatorily as if she could see right through you. “You’re fine with always just being a quick fuck?” 

“It’s what we both need, honestly, I’m fine with the way things are” You nodded,  thinking back to a conversation the both of you had both had after a mission. 

“If I ever settle down, it’d have to be with someone outside of all this”

“Outside of what?” 

“This” Bucky waved his hand around, pointing to the arsenal of weapons you were putting away after yet another grueling mission. “All this avenger shit, saving the world. I just want to go home to something peaceful. normal. Leave all this behind and just exist with someone I love. I’d never date someone from the team or someone associated with this, it’s too much” 

You felt a strange tightness in your chest at his words but you shrugged the feeling off, understanding where Bucky was coming from. 

“So who do you think you’ll end up with Barnes” 

Why were you asking him this as if you’d like the answer. 

“Maybe someone like Lauren” He mumbled, “Just someone who isn’t a part of this. Normal”

You felt the tightness creep back up but you shoved it back down. After all he’d been through, he deserved a little bit of normal. 

You took your tea and made your way to your room, sipping while you thought about Nat’s question. Were you okay with the way things were? He was a good friend to you and no doubt the only person who could have you screaming till your lungs were sore. 

Still. 

He was never yours.

He never saw you that way.

You were just a good fuck.

He always loved his ex.

It didn’t help that you’d recently noticed he’d been out more often. He didn’t say anything to you directly but you could tell he was trying to get back with his ex.  Cut his hair. Cleaned up. Quietly going out and not breathing a word about where he was off to. You weren’t 100% sure what he was doing but it was enough for you to decided you had to pull back. 

A few weeks later

Bucky frowned, hearing yet another excuse from you as you made your way to your room, softly closing your door and hearing the muffled noise of your TV switch on, not going to bed like you insisted. It had been weeks since he’d spoken to you properly. He couldn’t even remember the last time you had the benefits part of your “friendship” You were usually always slinking around him like a cat, your touch, your voice, your scent, some form of you always surrounding him. 

Recently?

Nothing. 

He didn’t like it.

Not one damn bit. 

 He hated that you didn’t wrap your arms around him randomly, whispering in his ear about how badly you needed him. Or the way you’d bite your lip looking over to him in the middle of the field, a silent promise of sucking his soul out as soon as the mission was over. Or how your back would arch off the bed, your thighs suffocating him, tugging the hair from his roots when he nursed from your clit as if your arousal quenched his thirst. Or the way he’d let his cum seep down your thighs, fucking it back into you with his fingers, getting you to lick them clean afterwards-

Bucky groaned to himself, shifting uncomfortably at the hard on he’d given himself thinking about you. It’s not even like he could go to you to get you to take care of it. The few time’s he’d tried to initiate something, you were tired. Had cramps. Not feeling well. Injured. Always something, leaving him high and dry, avoiding him all together. He decided to make his way down to the gym, punching his feelings away yet again, though this time they were over you. 

A few more days had done by and Bucky was worse than before. Sure he was talking to his ex again, but he was more concerned over the growing distance between you both. You’d both agreed the benefits would stay just the same unless either of you got into a committed relationship and while he had reconnected with Lauren, they weren’t official....

Why did you avoid him so much?

Was it because of Lauren?

Why did he even try to reconnect with her...

How come you didn’t let him get close to you anymore?

He started to wrack and pick at his brain wondering where it all went down hill. Did he say something to you? He didn’t forget your birthday, he’d gotten you everything you’d ever mentioned, even the littlest things you figured he hadn’t paid attention to. So what did he do to deserve this? He’s pent up like never before and it’s not just sexually. It dawns on him that he needs more than just sex, he also needs your friendship, your softness, your laugh. 

He missed you. 

All of you. 

Of course you were there for him when he needed you, patching him up after missions, keeping his favorite snacks always stocked up, listening to him vent about Sam. It wasn’t the same though. As soon as you did your job taking care of him, you were out of his hair and off to do something else that had nothing to do with him. 

*****

Bucky thought it was bad before but now he was seeing red. He was silently seething, seeing yet another handsome stranger drop you off, kissing you and giving your ass a playful squeeze before letting you make your way inside. The worst was when your stupid dates would actually make it inside the compound and all the way up to your room, Bucky had never been more thankful for sound proof walls. He watched you carefully, your smile dropping as soon as your date drove off, kicking your heels off and making your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. 

Though Bucky despised seeing you after dates (unable to understand why he felt so strongly about them in the first place) there was one benefit to your rendezvous. One he wouldn’t openly admit to enjoying. A twisted part of him was happy when you didn’t enjoy yourself because while you would keep your distance from him on a regular basis, there were a few select times you’d relent and give into your needs. Like right now. 

“Bad date?” He cocked his head while you downed the dark liquid in one go, slinking over to his side, the warmth of your skin radiating off you. You nodded, letting your arms drape around his shoulders, standing between his legs. 

“Wanna help me forget?” 

It happened often and left Bucky more tormented than before. He hated that you only came to him when you needed to forget your shitty date but what could he say when you were supposed to be just friends with benefits anyway. You have a hold on him he can’t even explain. A hold no one else had ever had on him before. Not even his ex. 

His ex.

Bucky isn’t even sure why he had tried to reconnect with her. He realized there was nothing between the day he met her again after months. He remembered the relationship differently; rose coloured glasses making him forget that there wasn’t ever a strong connection between them. Now he was struggling to figure out why all of his thoughts were consumed with you. If that was the only way he’d get to have you then he’d take what he could get. 

*****

Bucky smiled to himself when he heard the a soft knock at his door, opening it to find your semi disheveled state, your hair a mess, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. 

“Need something doll?” Bucky smirked while you rolled your eyes, pushing past him, walking right into his room. You were there for one thing and one thing only. He knew it and you knew it.

“You know what I need Barnes” You huffed, unsatisfied from your date who rubbed you like a scratch lottery ticket, asking if you had finished 30 seconds after. “He couldn’t find my clit” You shook your head, tossing your tshirt off, leaving you bare moving laying on his bed “Not that most guys can”

Bucky felt all of his blood rush down south, it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen you naked, how many times he’d had you spread out for him, he’d forever be taken with how perfect you looked wearing absolutely nothing. He palmed his boner as he made his way over to you, stripping all his clothes off before giving his cock a few tugs. 

“Pretty sure I can” Bucky murmured, crawling onto the bed and spreading your legs in front of his face. “And if I remember correctly...” He nipped your inner thigh making, smiling to himself at the soft gasp that slipped form your lips, pressing a sloppy wet kiss right onto your clit “It’s right there, isn’t it baby”

You let out a whimper, nodding while he hummed, a cocky smirk curling on his lips. He pressing his hard cock against the mattress for some relief, the feel of your soft silkiness making him leak. “I know exactly where my pretty doll’s clit is, don’t worry your pretty head baby” 

“He didn’t know how to touch you, huh” Bucky cocked an eyebrow when you silent shook your head, his thumb coming to rub soft circles around your clit, “You like it slow and gentle at first, hm? Barely touching you, teasing you a little before getting faster?” Bucky watched you carefully, your chest rising up and down faster as he started to apply more pressure, his blue eyes locked with yours. “Then you like it faster, just like this” He removed his thumb, twitching to his two fingers', coating them in your arousal before using his fingers tips to rub you making you moan louder, “That’s right, sing for me baby, sing for me while I play with your pretty little clit” 

“I remember you loved when I did this...” He gently sealed his lips around your sensitive nub, suckling with the lightest pressure, his hands holding your thighs apart, loving the way you moaned just for him. He pulled off so he could use his tongue, lapping and twirling around your clit, groaning at the sweetness that coated his tongue. 

“Need-need more” You moaned, getting louder as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them and speeding up his pace, grinding against the bed, his balls growing heavy. “Need your cock Bucky! Please fuck me” You grabbed at his shoulders, too desperate for just his fingers, needing to feel all of him. 

“Okay, okay baby, m’here” Bucky cooed, as he came up, kissing your neck, jealousy creeping through his veins smelling the remnants of your dates cologne still lingering on your skin. 

Another man. Who touched you. Felt your body. 

Unacceptable. 

“Need you” You moaned again, feeling his cock nudge against your soaked entrance, your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your eyes were practically pleading with him, rolling back when you felt him start to press into you, moaning into your neck. 

“You have me” Bucky groaned as he shoved his cock into you, not giving you a second to adjust, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and pounding you right into the mattress. You cried out from pleasure, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs from his cock hitting your sweet spot, his cock starting to drip inside you. You could feel him all over, his body weight heavy on top of yours, the scent of his body wash, the scent of him, the heat off his body, the way he tasted when he smashed his lips against yours. 

You’d hooked up plenty of times before but none of them were like this. 

Bucky’s face was tucked into the crook of your neck, sucking dark bruises, gently licking and kissing them right after. His arms were holding you tight against him, rolling his hips so that he’d still be pressed against every inch of your body the entire time. It felt like he was trying to fuck the deepest depths of your soul, unrelenting, the bed post steadily thudding against the bedroom wall.  

 Bucky felt it too. Something more. He didn’t know what, maybe you were frustrated, pent up from being unsatisfied but he’d never had you like this before. Your legs squeezed his sides, your nails scratching down his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You were begging him for more, nearly crying, tears clouding your vision as he braced himself up slightly on his knees, fucking you even deeper. He savored your sweetness on his tongue, the smell of your shampoo, how silky and soft your body was. His cock was throbbing, threatening to blow sooner than he’d like, your pussy sucking him back in every time he fucked you. 

Your hands went to card through his hair, your nails grazing through his scalp, drawing the sluttiest moan from Bucky, his eyes rolling back, fucking you even harder. You could feel your arousal squirt out of you at how desperate and delicious he sounded, squirming under him, feeling the wiry hair at the base of his cock rub against your clit. 

No one else had ever satisfied you the way he did, touching you in a way that made your body light on fire. He felt so good, fucked so good, tasted so good, made you feel things everywhere. Your heart was screaming, wanting to making the night last forever, but forever wasn’t something either of you agreed on. He wasn’t yours. If only. If only you could always have this. You needed this. Exactly this. You tried to bite your tongue, your voice needy and broken, unable to stop the words from tumbling out as your mind swirled. 

“Fuck Bucky I wish my future husband would fuck me this good, oh god-

You cried out as he growled, grabbing you and bringing your knees up, angling his hips till his thrusts made your belly bulge. He felt feral hearing your words, knowing you needed more of what he was giving you, what only he could give you. No one else would ever make you feel this good.

“Yeah? That what you want? Another man to fuck like me?” Bucky felt another surge of jealously course through his veins at the thought of another man having you the way he did. Another man touching you. Making love to you. Fucking you. Filling your tight cunt with their cum, breeding you till your belly was round and swollen. He snarled against your neck thinking about you carrying someone elses name. Someone else making you feel good, making you moan, putting their cock in you, it was supposed to be just him. Only him. 

Huh.

Why was he so possessive.

He tried to shake off the thought but the image seared into his brain. 

He couldn’t stand the image of you in your wedding dress, saying I do to a man that was someone else, your soft lips kissing theirs, sealing the both of you together forever, taking you away from him. 

Fuck that. 

Bucky fucked you like his life depended on it, the green monster of envy and jealous possessing his very soul, pouring all his feelings into the way he fucked you. He marked your neck, your shoulders, your breasts'. 

“Need-need this Bucky” You cried out, feeling pressure and tightness growing through your body, your orgasm desperate to spill over. He grunted, his balls growing heavy, his own climax at the tip of his cock. 

How could you think of letting someone else have you this way. 

To have you so vulnerable, hearing how beautiful you sounded when you were lost in pleasure. 

How could you think of wearing another mans right? Taking his last name?

How the fuck could you think of carrying another mans child, giving birth to his babies, having a family with someone that wasn’t him. 

How could you. 

Bucky’s mind felt muddled, he felt sick at the thought of you belonging to someone else, not when you had him. Not when he could give you what you wanted. He couldn’t push away the thought of how you’d look if you were carrying his babies. The way your tummy would be so round. How tired you’d look, a little super soldier baby growing inside you. 

The way you’d be pouty, your breasts leaking, your swollen belly perfect evidence that you belonged to him. No one would look at you twice, knowing who your baby daddy is. Who would dare look at the pretty thing the winter solider knocked up, thinking twice before they even looked your way. 

Fuck, you’d look so perfect, pregnant with his baby. He’d take such good care of you, massaging your sore feet, rubbing your belly, doting on you every second of the day. He’d spend hours worshipping your pussy with his mouth, knowing you wouldn’t even be able to see him over the swell of your tummy but your satisfied moans would be more than enough for him. He’d carry you everywhere, treat you like a queen, make love to you, drink your sweet milk when you felt heavy and sore, you be all of his-

“F-FUCK I’M CUMMING” Bucky bit hard onto your shoulder, moaning loudly as he started to cum, thoughts of your leaking nipples and firm belly making his whole body jolt, his cock sensitive, spurts of his seed endlessly pouring into you. “Y/n, look at me” He panted, still rutting his cock into you while your eyes rolled back into a silent scream, cumming around his throbbing length. 

“Look at me” He grasped your cheeks, making you look at him, sweat beading at his forehead, his skin flushed “I’m gonna get you pregnant” You gasped, moaning against his mouth as he continued to sloppily grind into you, his cock still some how hard. “You’re all mine, understand?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough, his grip on your cheeks tightened, desperate to hear your voice. 

“Say it” He pleaded with you, panting and grunting, overstimulated but too deep in wanting to fill you again to care. 

“I-I’m yours James!” You could feel pleasure creep up you again, working yourself up to a second high just off his words alone. 

“Keep saying it, keeping saying it, m’gonna cum again, don’t fuckin stop, keep telling me” He almost sounded like he was going to cry, his balls throbbing, still full and heavy.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, get-get me pregnant daddy” 

“FUCK YES”  That did it, his second orgasm spilling into you, his cock finally starting to soften. You panted, your mind reeling over the what had just happened, too fucked out to formulate words. He had taken you apart, cumming in you twice, his seed still deep inside you as he stayed inside you, slowly drifting off to sleep. As much as you wanted to ask him about what had just happened, you figured it was just the heat of the moment. You melted into his hold, letting sleep take over instead, what just happened wasn’t a big deal anyway....

*****

You blinked awake, heat engulfing you, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your body keeping you tightly and securely right against him. You squirmed, only to feel him hug you closer, whining, as if you’d disappear if he let go. You tried to gently wiggle free, not wanting to deal with the fact that you’d stayed the night, but your attempts to leave only woke him up. You blinked at his soft blue eyes gazing down at you, his strong arms still clinging onto you like no tomorrow. 

“Bu-

You were cut off by his lip smashing onto yours in a breathe stealing kiss, your eyes growing wide before melting and kissing him back. You both reluctantly broke away for oxygen, your face heating up as he tucked your hair behind your ear, still holding you close. 

“Stay”

“But-”

He rolled over, pinning you down onto the bed, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Stay, please” All Bucky could think about was your words from last night, the thought of anyone else other than him having you making him sick. He needed it again. Needed more. Wanting the same passion from the night before, his heart yearning and aching for it. “Y/, doll please” 

You shook your head, a sudden surge of anger fueling you when you remembered he wasn’t even yours and his heart was elsewhere. 

“James, let me go- 

“No” He stayed in place, bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning you further, “Doll, I know I have no right but-but I need you”

“You had me last night, that’s all you need anyway” You scoffed, while he shook his head, regret clouding his eyes.

“No baby, it’s not enough. It was never enough. It’s always been you” 

“James, you were just trying to get back with your ex-

“It was a mistake. I learnt that the same day I met her. There wasn’t anything between us, truthfully there never was. I guess I remembered things differently from how they actually were. A stupid memory that never even existed. She never made me feel the same way you did. Not even close” 

You stayed silent, while Bucky continued to nervously ramble, his feelings coming out scrambled, fear making it difficult for him to focus. He couldn’t lose you. He adored you. Needed you. Couldn't stand the thought of someone else other than him being by your side. 

“It’s all you baby, always all you” He whispered, giving you his best puppy eyes, his heart hammering against his chest. You spread your legs slightly, letting his cock rest against your core, your nose bumping against his. 

“Show me you mean it” You whispered against his lips, gasping as he filled you, moving slowly so you could feel every bit of him. Him. The only person you truly every wanted. The person you imagined your future with. The person you wanted it all with. 

“M’gonna show you for the rest of my life doll” 

A few years later

You yawned, handing off your little one to Bucky, giving him a quick kiss before he was carried off to bed. Bucky rocked his son in his arms for a moment before setting him down in his bed, kissing him goodnight before switching the night light on. He made his way back to the bedroom, his heart swelling when his eyes settle on you, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“How are my babies” Bucky smiled, laying in front of you and pulling your shirt up over your swollen belly, his two little angels fluttering inside. 

“Kicking and causing a ruckus, just like you a Steve” You huffed, giggling when he laid his head on your tummy, kissing the area where he felt the little ones moving. 

“Let mama sleep” He soothed, rubbing your skin,  smiling when he felt the babies settle down. “Be good for mommy, she’s sleepy, carrying you both around all day, keeping you warm and cozy” 

Bucky continued to coo and whisper to your belly, lulling you in and out of sleep, listening to his soothing voice. He had done the same thing when you first son Steve Grant Barnes Jr. was born, doting on you every second of the day. You had sworn you needed time to recuperate, exhausted from carrying his enhanced little one though both of you struggled to keep your hands to yourselves. 

“You just had to get me pregnant with twins, didn’t you” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him, gently stroking his hair while he continued to cuddle with your tummy. Bucky grinned, taking your hand and kissing your palm, the ring on your finger glinting softly under the glow of the table lamp. 

“Not my fault, you were the one who had your hands down my pants when we got back from that mission. I didn’t hear you complain when I made you cum three times in a row” He wiggled his eyebrows while your face heated up, biting your lip, remembering the way he had taken you apart in the jet, the safe house and then your home, the both of you insatiable as always, “Aren’t you lucky your husband fucks you like I did, Mrs. Barnes” 

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[multifandomgirl08]

Mini Verstappen

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max's apartment

Warning(s): Slight angst (if you squint), child from a past relationship (Max), reader coming to terms with her feelings (on screen), ambiguous ending

A/N: I may add more to this in the future. Right now it's just a stand-alone.

Words: 1.3k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

From the moment you met Max, you knew that he was complicated. From his busy schedule, to the people he surrounded himself with when it came to his job. You knew it would be hard to keep up with a guy like him. But you had gotten the greatest shock of your life when you had showed up at Max’s Monaco apartment.

Max knew that you were going to be visiting him, he was the one who invited you to stay with him. And given that you had been doing long distance for about 8 months it only recently seemed like things were turning serious. Max had been very secretive about his apartment, he never invited you over when you had initially met him, and given that you were doing long distance, you only got to talk to him in the morning your time.

You had knocked on his door before he opened it to see him holding a toddler. Your hand dropped from your luggage. This was the last thing you were expecting. “Hey.” He muttered.

“Hi.” You said back. It was all you really could say looking at the child sleeping on Max’s shoulder.

“You should come inside.” He pushed the door open with his free hand. You could hear the light curse in Dutch that he let out under his breath.

As you made your way into Max’s penthouse, you started to internally connect all of the dots. This was why he normally answered you only at night, this was why all of his social media accounts only had work-related things posted on them aside from the few sporadic pictures of his family.

You set your bags by the door, turning to Max to see him place the child on the couch before covering him with a blanket with little F1 cars making up the pattern.

“I normally don’t do this,” He said, his accent coming through.

You furrowed your brows together in question. “Do what?”

Max looked at the couch as if he was pointing to the child. “I don’t normally introduce people that I don’t work with to my son.”

You honestly just felt awkward standing there. You had only really been on a number of dates with Max that weren’t phone calls. You traveled often enough for work that you got to see each other a few days every month or so, but it seemed like things were going rather well between you, you hadn’t expected this however.

“Normally, the women that I start to see don’t last more than 3 or 4 months, then they start to expect things. Getting invited to races and being invited to my apartment.” He offered up. That was maybe one of the reasons why you were here, you never pressured Max into inviting you over. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give.

Max moved to sit on the couch brushing his hair to one side like he couldn’t help but fumble with something given how strange this whole thing was for both of you.

“I’ve never gotten this far with someone since I’ve had him in my life.” It made sense why. He didn’t want someone around his son only for them to leave soon after, not a lot of people could handle taking care of a child as well as being in a relationship with their parent so early on.

“How long have you had him?” You asked wondering how long Max had been a part of his son's life.

“Almost 2 years. My last long-term girlfriend ended up pregnant. At first, she was going to keep him. She gave him up at the last second. She contacted my agent since we ended things not long before she found out.” He seemed to be answering in short sentences, almost as if he was afraid that his English couldn’t keep up with him.

Max was giving you a lot of information, probably because the only people he really got to talk to about this were the guys on the grid - guys who although they were around Max’s age didn’t have a child to take care of by themselves.

You couldn’t help but walk closer, almost dragging your feet but didn’t want to wake the little boy up by doing so. He looked like Max, like he was his little copy, down to the wide smile and the slight quiver in his brow as he slept. You couldn’t help but lightly smile seeing the little boy fist the blanket in his small grip.

You moved to sit next to him waiting to see if he’d say anything else. He didn’t, he just stroked the little boy’s hair away from his forehead. You looked to Max to see his blue eyes turn stormy like he was waiting for you to leave him alone with his son.

Was he waiting for you to run?

“I’m not leaving Max.” You said.

Any other person may have run, but Max having a son from a previous relationship although a little like a wake-up call didn’t make you want to run. It just made you more aware of how serious this would be. It wouldn’t just be the two of you, there was also someone else to consider.

You saw him drop his head into his hands, seeing his shoulders shake as you heard the unmistakable sounds of him sobbing. You hadn’t seen Max cry before. He was just one of those people who knew how to keep his emotions in check. It probably had to do with all the time he spent in front of reporters. He only really let go when it was the two of you, he was all smiles. His eyes would squint when he smiled wide at you, you loved looking at him when he smiled at you over candlelight. His shoulders were relaxed, and he couldn’t stop smiling at you. That was how you knew that he was really happy.

Max didn’t look like that now, his back was stiff. He was hunched over in a way that could possibly hurt his back if he kept it up. This just showed you how uncomfortable he was in the situation.

“You’re the only one who’s stayed long enough to meet him.” He sputtered out.

Hearing that just made your stomach turn uncomfortably.

You laid your head against his shoulder wanting to say something to comfort him, but thought it would be better just to stay there with him.

“He looks like you.” You muttered.

You could feel Max’s shoulders shake again, not sure if he was still crying.

“Victoria said the same thing the first time she saw him.” He said clearly. 

You had only met Max’s sister a few times before. She seemed to like you from the conversations that you had.

“I understand why you waited to tell me about him.” You would like to find out his name, instead of referring to him as Max’s son.

“I didn’t want to drop it on you, I just didn’t know how…” Max’s eyes shifted once again to the sleeping boy.

“Well, I am a little bit shocked, and this wasn’t what I was expecting when you invited me to come spend the week with you but I’m up for it,” Max telling you he had a son wasn’t a part of your plans, however, given that you had almost been together a year. It felt nice that he was finally letting you into his world a little more.

He looked up at you, and you could see that he was shocked. His face was completely slacked, his plump lips open. His eyes were still red from crying but could see that they were getting clearer.

“His name’s Nico,” Max offered up.

You felt really tempted to reach over and move Nico’s hair from his eyes but instead just dropped your hand to Max’s lap and whispered against his cheek, “It suits him. Nico Verstappen.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tell you something, instead he just reached for your hand. Clasping them together in his grip he said, "Thank you, for not leaving."

[fangirl-dot-com]

what does mitch look like? like does she have a face claim?! and vito?? (i couldn’t tell which one was which in imola)

ok so here we go! - thank you to whoever asked for this!!

this was a tag worthy post I believe :)

face claim - Amal Clooney

Meet Michelle "Mitch" Walker - Y/n L/n's race engineer

She has been at Red Bull since 2020, but was an actual engineer for the cars. She graduated with a Masters in Engineering and interned under Adrian Newey. She is currently in her late-30's and not married.

She was a bit skeptical when she was told by Christian that she'd be a rookie's race engineer, but when she saw you and your times on the sim, she was hooked.

She can be seen wearing her favorite big sunnies during race weekends and carries her gray notebook everywhere she goes. As a part of a ritual, she always drinks an iced Americano before a race.

For future references, she stays Y/n L/n's race engineer until said racer retires. She will have served under two different team principals by the end of her carrier (but I'm not saying who the second is hehe).

no face claim - Italian, short beard, and a whole lot of love for Y/n

Meet Vito Accardi - Y/n L/n's manager

Vito had been a part of an organization of people who lend out unofficial managers to younger racers who don't already have one. He was assigned to Y/n L/n in 2018 when she first joined F4. He, like most people, thought that she had raw talent and he wanted to stay with her.

Fast forward to 2019 and F3, Vito was officially Y/n L/n's manager, hired by her godfather Lorenzo. He has no plans to leave anytime soon.

He has a Public Relations Degree along with degree in Business. On the side, he runs his own line of go karts. He has mentioned that he was only able to start it due to the kindness of Y/n and Lorenzo.

For further references, Vito stays with Y/n until her retirement. After that, he ends up being asked to be godfather of her second child. Of course he agrees and tears are shed.

face claim - Brendan Taggart

Meet Lorenzo "Enzo" Alessandrino - Y/n L/n's Godfather

Lorenzo had been Y/F/N L/n's best friend growing up after meeting at boarding school, but distanced himself after he saw how awful he truly was. Only came back into his life after the birth of Y/n. Surprisingly, he was named godfather and he took that to heart.

Being a major business man and influential figure in karting and Formula racing, he couldn't possibly be near the girl all the time. But after finding out what you had been going through, he wishes that he would have fought for custody. Maybe then you could have grown up with other kids such as Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, Mick Schumacher, and Arthur Leclerc. But, he couldn't dwell on the past.

Everyone thought he was pretty poor as he didn't like to flaunt his wealth everywhere, but they were wrong. Pretty much one of the wealthiest persons the time of his death.

Gave Y/n L/n a second chance at karting and formula racing as he fought for sponsors to agree on the younger girl (most said no due to age and gender, but he never gave up).

Late in 2019, he caught pneumonia, which turned into a fatal respiratory tract infection. He died in early 2020 after falling into a coma. The only person to ever show up was Y/n L/n

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

[adascore]

OUT OF THE BLUE | J. FLEMING

pairings: jessie fleming x chelsea!reader

warnings: angst. swearing. crying. jessie’s transfer.

author’s note: inspired by @pixiesfz (fic: moving on) and @jflemings (fic: inevitable), I definitely recommend checking out their versions of the transfer!

masterlist

•••••••

January, 2024

''Yeah, that does sound great. I'll, uh, think about it and call you tomorrow… Okay, thanks… Bye bye.'' Jessie hung up the phone, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She sighed as she glanced back into the living room, her girlfriend sitting on their couch, blissfully unaware of anything.

Y/N wasn't entirely oblivious to Jessie's agent researching new clubs. It had been an ongoing discussion for a while now, fueled by Jessie's frustration with her dwindling game time at Chelsea.

Jessie quietly sat back down on the couch, not wanting to disturb her partner's tv-show.

''Everything okay?'' The Canadian turned her head, finding Y/N's eyes on her.

She nodded, biting her lips. ''Yeah, good… just my agent.'' She replied, trying to mask the turmoil in her voice.

''Any news?'' Y/N asked.

Bless her heart, Jessie thought. Despite not being the biggest fan of no longer getting to be teammates, Y/N had been very supportive of her girlfriend's search, believing her talent was indeed being wasted at Chelsea.

''Uh, nothing new,'' the midfielder lied, ''she's still in talks with a few clubs.''

''Oh, okay.'' The forward smiled, redirecting her focus back to the series she was watching.

Jessie didn't want to lie, she really didn't. However, telling the love of your life that you received a great offer from an American club and that you're really considering it, isn't an easy thing to do. The Canadian tried telling herself she should only tell Y/N when it's official, but Jessie knew from the moment her agent informed her of the option, that this was the right direction for her to go.

Her game time would improve compared to Chelsea's, and Janine and Christine would become her club teammates- she'd be stupid not to accept. But Portland was far from London, and Portland was far away from Y/N, her true home.

She promised herself she would tell her when the time was right, when the offer from the Thorns was official and her future was certain.

''I think she might stay until the end of the season, and then see what her options are.'' Y/N responded to Erin, after the Scot asked about Jessie's future.

Erin nodded. ''Nice, we can give her a proper sendoff then.''

''I'd say a party, but I don't think she would want to be the center of attention.'' Millie chimed in, thinking about how they could celebrate the younger woman's time at Chelsea.

''She'd look more like a tomato than she already does.'' Erin laughed, imagining her fellow midfielder's reaction.

''But it's good that we'll have at least this last season with her. The last match is gonna be emotional, Emma leaving, Jessie leaving…'' Millie said once the laughter had died down.

Y/N nodded her head. ''Yeah, but I just want to see her happy, you know? She loves the team, but, you know, with the game time and everything.''

Both women nodded, understanding Jessie's reasons for wanting to play somewhere else.

''Do you know where she's maybe going?'' Millie asked, curiously.

The younger woman shrugged her shoulders. ''She has plenty of options,'' Y/N grinned proudly, ''I think she's staying in Europe, though- Champions League and all.''

''She's gonna become a rival.'' Erin teased, rubbing her hands together in feigned mischief.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the thought, but the underlying sadness of Jessie's departure lingered in the back of her mind.

''I also see her staying close by, at least near you.'' Millie lightly nudged her teammate's shoulder, sending a wink.

Y/N grinned back, but there was a hint of dejection in her eyes as she glanced at her friends "She's gotta do what's best for her," she said softly, her gaze drifting to the floor, "that's the most important thing.” She murmured.

As Y/N's thoughts lingered on Jessie's impending departure, she was abruptly pulled back to the present by the sound of someone's voice.

''Hey, you're ready to go?'' Jessie asked, her arrival at their table breaking the somber silence that had settled over them.

Amazing timing, Fleming, Y/N thought as her girlfriend approached their table.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jessie, her dejected mood momentarily forgotten as she met her girlfriend's gaze. "Yeah." She replied, her eyes lighting up and a smile gracing her lips.

Her friends exchanged knowing glances, their amusement evident as they observed the subtle shift in Y/N's demeanor in the presence of her girlfriend.

Y/N got up from her chair. ''See you tomorrow, beautiful ladies.'' She bid her friends goodbye.

''Tomorrow, love birds.'' ''See ya!''

Jessie silently grabbed her partner's bag from the floor, and the pair walked together to the parking lot.

''They're so adorable it makes me sick.'' Erin muttered.

Millie laughed at her teammate. ''I think you might be allergic.''

As they drove out of the Chelsea training complex, a heavy silence enveloped the couple, weighing down the air in the car. Silences weren't necessarily unusual for them, but there was something about this one that had Y/N feeling confused and worried at the same time.

Glancing sideways at Jessie, Y/N noticed the furrow in her brow, the tension etched into the lines of her face. It was clear that something was bothering her, something she was struggling to articulate.

"Hey, Jess," the striker began hesitantly, breaking the uneasy silence that hung between them, "is everything okay?”

Jessie's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the road ahead as she wrestled with her thoughts. ''Yeah, just a bit tired.'' She responded, her voice strained.

Her answer did nothing to soothe her. There was a distance in the Canadian's eyes, a hesitancy in her voice that spoke volumes. "You can talk to me, you know." Y/N said, and she reached out to Jessie's hand.

For a moment, Jessie tensed up at the display of affection. Her breath was caught in her throat as she struggled with what to tell her partner. ''Can we talk about this when we're home? I don't want to have this conversation while I'm driving.'' She asked, momentarily making eye contact with her.

Y/N nodded, though the unease still gnawed at her. "Of course," she replied gently, withdrawing her hand but keeping her gaze fixed on Jessie, "we can talk about it when we get home."

The remainder of the drive passed in an uncomfortable conversation about their thoughts on the training that day.

As they finally pulled into their driveway, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation of the impending conversation sending a wave of anxiety crashing over her. She followed Jessie inside, the heavy silence hanging between them like a dense fog.

Once inside, Y/N took a seat on the couch. Her eyes fixed on the midfielder like a hawk as Jessie paced through the room.

Taking a a few deep breaths to ease herself, Jessie finally broke the silence that had enveloped them. "I... I received an offer." She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N perked up at the revelation. ''An offer?'' She repeated. ''That's great, no?'' Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

But as she watched her girlfriend unconsciously shake her head, she knew there was more to the story than Jessie was letting on.

The Canadian hesitated, her gaze shifting to the floor as she struggled to find the right words. "From the Portland Thorns," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible, "they want me to play for them.”

Y/N's heart sank at the news, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. ''Portland?'' She muttered. ''In the U.S.?''

Jessie silently nodded. ''Yeah, the NWSL.'' She confirmed.

Her heart sank even further at the confirmation, the reality of the situation settling in like a heavy weight on her chest. ''Wow… that's, uh, that's amazing- with Janine and Christine, that's really nice, babe.'' She tried to muster a smile, but it felt hollow on her lips.

Despite her attempt to be supportive, the weight of Jessie's decision bore down on Y/N like a heavy burden. The thought of being separated by thousands of miles was something out of a nightmare.

But as she looked at Jessie, her heart ached at the thought of holding her back from pursuing her dreams. She knew that she had to be strong, to support her partner no matter what path she chose.

''Thank you.'' Jessie was unsure of how to proceed, it was clear that her girlfriend wasn't expecting a transfer to the other side of the world. "I... I know this isn't easy," she continued, her voice wavering slightly. "But I have to do what's best for my career.”

Y/N reached out, gently squeezing Jessie's hand. "I know," she replied softly, ''and this is gonna be really good for you.''

''So… you're not upset?''

She shook her head, a forced smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ''Of course not. I know you're going to do amazing there, and I'm happy that they are seeing your talent. It's a great club, Jess. And if it means you'll be happier... then I'm all for it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Jessie's eyes as she pulled Y/N into a tight embrace. "I love you." She whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, returning the embrace, ''I think you forgot for a moment that I'm, like, your biggest fan.'' She chuckled, tears forming in her own eyes.

Jessie laughed now as well. "How could I forget?" She echoed, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looked at Y/N. "You're the best.”

As the evening wore on, the weight of Jessie's decision lingered in the air, casting a somber mood over the apartment. Despite the reassurances they had exchanged, the reality of the situation still hung heavy on their hearts.

A few days later, the time came for Jessie to face her teammates and share the news of her new club. The staff had gathered the team into the meeting room with the excuse they needed to go over some past matches.

''Before we get into some of the matches, there is someone here who has some news for us,'' Emma began, ''Jessie?'' The coach signaled for the Canadian to take her spot at the front of the room.

The midfielder quietly walked towards Emma. ''Hey, everyone,” she awkwardly greeted the room, "I, uh... I have something I need to tell you.” A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to Jessie.

Y/N's eyes became fixed on the floor, not feeling ready to hear this for a second time.

''I've received an offer from the Portland Thorns,” she said, still a bit on edge, ''and… I've decided to accept it. So this is actually my, uh, last day as a Blue.''

"I... I know this might come as a surprise," Jessie continued, her voice faltering. "you guys are an amazing group, and I'm so lucky to have shared the pitch with such incredible players. All of you will always have a special place in my heart, and, yeah, just thank you for everything.'' She finished her small speech, becoming emotional.

She received applause from the squad and staff in the room. Emma was the first to give her a hug. A flicker of irritation flashed through Y/N at the thought of their coach's role in Jessie's decision to leave, but she pushed it aside, knowing that now was not the time.

All the players got up from their seats to say their own ‘thank you's' or give their own hugs to Jessie. However, the young striker remained seated, finding herself unable to follow her teammates.

With a heavy heart, Y/N quietly rose from her seat, her footsteps barely audible as she made her way towards the door.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as she almost went for the door handle. ''You okay?''

Y/N was met with Sam as she turned around, the Australian's face expressing concern over her teammate's exit without having said anything to her girlfriend.

''Yeah, just need the bathroom.'' She replied, quickly.

Sam nodded and let her go, but she was not convinced. The No. 20 shared a look with her captain who had also watched the young woman's escape.

Millie swiftly ruffled the Canadian's hair, before walking over to Sam. ''What was that?''

''I don't know, said she needed the bathroom, but she went before the meeting.'' The experienced striker explained, a furrow in her eyebrows.

''I'll talk to her.'' Turning back to Sam, she offered a reassuring smile before making her way towards the door.

She caught up with Y/N in the hallway, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to startle slightly. "Hey," the Brit said delicately, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "Mind if we chat for a moment?”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor as she struggled to meet her older teammate's eyes. "Sure." she replied quietly.

She led the younger one to a more secluded area, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on their more personal moment. Millie's face was full of concern as she turned to her. ''Are you okay? What happened there? Didn't Jessie tell you already?''

''She did, she did… a few days ago.'' She answered, her voice still quiet and full of emotion.

''Then, what's wrong? Why'd you leave?''

Y/N pulled her attention from the ground to Millie's eyes. ''It's just… that, like, it seemed to have only hit me now that she's actually going, you know? She's gonna go to Portland, while I'm staying here in fucking London.''

Millie's expression softened with understanding as she listened to Y/N's words, her heart aching for her younger teammate. ''I get it,'' she put her arm around her, ''it's tough knowing that she'll be so far away, especially when you're used to having her here with you every day.''

The striker nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she struggled to contain her emotions. "Yeah," she murmured, ''I'm…'' she trailed off.

''You're what, sweetheart?''

''I'm scared.'' Her voice was small, if her teammate wasn't standing so close to her, she probably would have missed it.

''Of what?'' The captain frowned.

''The distance, I don't think I can handle it, Millie.''

Millie's heart ached at the vulnerability in Y/N's voice, her own eyes brimming with tears as she wrapped her younger friend in a warm embrace. "I understand," she murmured, offering her a comforting squeeze, "it's okay to be scared. It's a big change. For the both of you.''

Y/N nodded, her tears flowing freely now as she struggled to articulate the depth of her fears. "I... I'm scared of losing her," she admitted softly, ''that she'll forget me while she's there.''

"You won't lose her," she reassured her, her voice filled with sincerity. "Jessie loves you, Y/N. And distance won't change that.”

Y/N sniffled, a small hiccup escaping her as she leaned into Millie's embrace, finding solace in her comforting words. "But what if... what if she meets someone else?" She whispered, her voice tinged with fear.

Millie's grip tightened, her heart breaking at the thought of her friend's pain. "Jessie loves you," she repeated firmly. "And nothing, and I really mean that, nothing will bloody change that.''

''Thanks, Mills.'' Y/N said, her head resting on her shoulder.

''You're welcome, darling. I'm always here for you. And Erin, and Sam, and Guro, Niamh, Z, all of us.'' She reassured her, wanting her to know that they'll stand by her while she goes through this difficult time.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over her at Millie's words. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "I... I really needed to hear that.”

''Anytime, bubs,'' the defender pecked the top of her head, ''I do think you need to tell Jessie this. It's important for her to know how you feel about all this.''

The younger one nodded, taking a moment to compose herself before pulling away from Millie. "You're right," she agreed, her voice a bit steadier now, ''I'll talk to her about it.''

Millie gave her a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with encouragement. ''Great, she'll understand. It's Jessie, remember?'' She chuckled, trying to get a grin out of her friend.

She was successful as Y/N managed to crack a smile. ''Yeah, it's Jessie,'' she straightened her posture as if ready for battle, ''thanks again, Mills. I really appreciate it.''

The defender nodded, the smile on her own face widening. ''You're very welcome, sweetheart.'' She gave Y/N a small pat on the back.

The next evening, they sat together in their dimly lit living room, trying to watch a movie. Y/N glanced over at Jessie, whose eyes were focused on the television.

"Jessie," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, ''can I, uh, talk to you about something?''

The Canadian's brows furrowed in concern as she turned towards her partner. ''Of course.''

Y/N took a deep breath. ''First, I am so happy for you that you're going somewhere where they are appreciating your talent, and that you'll be closer to your family and your siblings...'' she began, her words slow and measured. She paused, struggling to meet Jessie's gaze. ''I just don't think that I, uh, am gonna be able to handle the distance.''

Jessie's stomach twisted with unease as she absorbed her words. In the days since it had become official that she would be moving to Portland, they hadn't really discussed how their relationship would proceed. Each of them had spoken about it with their friends, but they both seemed hesitant to broach the topic with each other, perhaps afraid of the uncertainty it might bring.

''I want to, Jessie, I really want to try- I just want you to know how I feel, it's been bothering me.''

The midfielder found it hard to respond as she observed her girlfriend who looked like she was about to burst out in tears. Tears welled up in Jessie's eyes as she reached out to gently cup Y/N's face in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze. "I understand," she whispered, her voice strained, "and I appreciate you being honest with me.”

Y/N's own eyes started to water. She leaned into Jessie's touch, her heart breaking at the thought of losing her. ''I love you, J Flem.''

''I love you.'' Jessie reciprocated as she took her partner into her arms, wanting her as close as possible.

''I don't know if I can handle being so far apart, not seeing you or speaking to you every day. International break is already a killer for me, and it's difficult to just go back-and-forth between Portland and London.'' The striker whispered into Jessie's neck, not able to say it any louder.

The Canadian nodded, completely understanding her perspective. ''I know,'' she whispered back, 'I never wanted to put you in this position."

For a moment, they simply held each other in silence, the weight of their unspoken fears hanging heavy in the air. But as the minutes ticked by, the reality of their situation became increasingly clear.

''I don't want to hold you back.'' Y/N said, her voice muffled against the fabric of Jessie's shirt.

''You're not holding me back at all.'' Jessie immediately retorted, ruffling her hair.

Y/N weakly chuckled. ''It feels like I am.''

''Please don't think that, babe.''

They were both aware of what was coming, they were simply wasting time as if that would somehow work and they wouldn't have to leave each other.

''I remember when I first joined Chelsea, and I was watching some of you guys' matches, and thinking you were so intimidating,'' Jessie broke the silence.

''but then you were actually one of the first people to say hi to me, and you just looked so different than on the pitch. You were smiling, and trying your best to make me feel welcome.'' She laughed, an affectionate smile playing on her lips.

Y/N grinned as well, while wiping some loose tears away. ''I just remember thinking you looking super awkward.'' She dryly responded.

Jessie gave her a light push. ''Hey!''

''I also thought you were very cute… with your flushed cheeks.'' She quickly added.

The midfielder ironically blushed at the admission.

It became quiet between the two of them again, reminiscing their early days as teammates at Chelsea.

''We'll find our way back to one another, I'm sure of it.'' Jessie nodded.

Y/n felt a lump in her throat at Jessie's words. ''We're still so young, you never know what can happen.''

''And I know what's going to happen. You and I, together- whenever, wherever that may be.'' She reassured her, her voice filled with sincerity.

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening with the weight of their impending separation. "I love you, Jessie." She told her, the pair locking eyes.

"I love you too," Jessie replied, her voice catching in her throat, "more than anything."

jessie fleming requests are always welcome!

[postersofleon]

SEVEN

Leon had issues and you understood them. Tied in a world where he couldn't even trust his own government, where bioweapons are a common thing and mistrust is common. Breaking up with an alcoholic with the best option to have. However, when time passes, Chris decides to bring you to help with Leon's current crisis. When he sees you, he is ready to give endless promises now. Seven days to win you back.

notes: i maybe like pathetic men but healing is hotter. inspired by jungkook's seven. no assigned race to reader but afab and she/her pronouns for them. EDIT! um, future chapters will have smut

monday: loving you

tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday

Being an agent wasn't made for you. You spend nearly twelve years training your body, scars had now decorated your body- it wasn't fair that your life was dominated by the cruelty of the world. When Wesker died, you hoped and prayed to any living god that this was over, but it was a useless dream. And with what happened in your last mission. You were tired. You woke with night terrors and your boyfriend wasn't doing so hot either. All the way from Raccoon City, his mind was still traumatized by seeing death that Ada Wong became his worry. He needed to protect her despite her being able to do it herself.

You weren't jealous. No matter how many people warned you should, and trusting Leon didn't bring horrible consequences. That was until Leon pointed a gun on Chris.

No offense, but Ada wasn't worth making your life worse in the government's eyes. There was an uneasy silence now. Even Helena noticed it.

You couldn't date him. His drunkness was getting into a dangerous issue, and now his sense of what's wrong or right. You liked Ada. But unfortunately, despite being a mercenary, she always worked for the bad people. Combining that with his saviors complex. You didn't want to be selfish. It had been years. You dated Leon for years, but right now. Especially pointing a gun to someone who was promised to always stay by their side.

You couldn't trust Leon.

But you still loved him. That was no issue. Maybe you needed to heal as well.

Two years had passed. You were still working in the DSO, but for now, as a nurse who helped the injured agents. It was a suprise when you saw Chris and Rebecca enter your lair. You took off your gloves, "What brings you two here?"

Chris gave a small smile, "Um, well, we are trying to find Leon."

Your eyebrows furrowed, "Leon? Why ask?" You threw them to the trash. Wouldn't bring Jill be a better option considering that Leon was on vacation?

Rebecca cleared her throat, "He is... hard to find."

A small laugh escaped your lips, "Always is." Your arms crossed against your chest. Chris looked a bit disappointed from your words, but Rebecca looked determined with your laugh. "You know where he is?" Your eyes touched the ground before meeting Rebecca's.

"Of course I know where he is. He sends me texts."

Chris looked up, "I thought you two broke up." You nodded your head, "Yeah, but it makes him happy to tell me where he is." And you'll be avoiding his booty calls in this conversation.

"But you need to leave him alone. He is tired." You made sure they heard those words. Leon is exhausted. He needed a break from the life given to him. You turned around and gave them your back, "Everyone deserves to take a break." Your fingers tapped on the cold metal table.

"He needs you." Chris whispered softly.

You turned around to see him, "He needs comfort." You knew Leon way too much. It hurt you to say it because it felt true. "He finds comfort in the bottle more than he did with me." It was your bitterness just approaching over and over. You sighed deeply, trying to ignore your anger.

"If you need him so badly, I'll tell you where he is," You grabbed your phone and looked through all of his texts, "Here." You showed Chris and Rebecca. "Now leave me alone." Your fingers tapped repeatedly against the table, and before you can clear your thoughts you got a message from him.

You turned around to see Rebecca and Chris. You were probably stupid thinking an alcoholic could change his ways. "I'll go."

[thelightsandtheroses]

when the rain washes you clean, you'll know

Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Secrets can’t stay hidden forever, not with these rainy days anyway … Warnings: 18+ blog, MDNI, secret relationship vibes, sexual tension, passing mentions of sexism and work, flangst (is it a lolabee fic without this?), copious references to rainy seasons and rain, poor communication, elements of rivalry if you squint maybe? Notes: This is my entry for the very lovely @undercoverpena’s April Showers challenge and I would like to thank this event for giving me some Javi P inspo. The fic title is from the brilliant Fleetwood Mac Dreams. Word Count: 2.7k

April brings the rain in Bogotá. You hear that in Cartagena, they get an extra month of dryness, but you’ve never minded water. You’re used to it.

If you were at your apartment now; with rain pitter pattering against glass windows, steaming coffee in your cup and a whole evening away from the office ahead of you, it would be better, you’d enjoy this moment. Instead, you’re desperately searching your handbag in the vain hope that this time around you will find an umbrella.

The embassy has a few umbrellas near the entrances and exits, but these have already been purloined by people leaving work before you. That will teach you to work late, to try and impress Messina again in vain.

This job isn’t what you expected. You wanted to expand your horizons, to do something wild and reckless with your life while you could. It seemed sensible to do this now, before mortgages and future commitments and expectations made it too difficult to be spontaneous.

The post in Colombia, working for Claudia Messina, seemed like a perfect opportunity. When you were told about it, all you could think was how it would certainly be a change from your small-town world and to learn from a woman rising in a male-dominated field was a dream, as well as a chance to stop the bad guys? You said yes almost automatically.

The reality is different to the images you’d let run wild in your mind. You’re not an active agent, you’re mostly doing translations, paperwork and shadowing Messina. The DEA’s office is dark and dank, illuminated by artificial bulbs and full of cigarette smoke. Your apartment is small and loud. Work takes so much of your time that you feel like you never explore this beautiful country or city and now it’s the wet season.

You feel like your adventure hasn’t yet started. It’s been weeks since you moved here and despite your best intentions, this isn’t what you had hoped for.

“Where are you parked?” a voice asks softly behind you. You turn around and see Agent Javier Peña - the source of most of your late nights of work as you try and untangle his messes or work on a better case for Messina to present.

When you had first joined the DEA office, one of the women in the office had taken you under her wing and shared the gossip and news about all of your new colleagues. She told you that Agent Peña has been in Colombia for years though, longer than most of the other active DEA agents.

He has a reputation. It’s all she’s needed to say to you about him.

Your few conversations with Javier have been professional, concise and fine. You’ve tried to notice his smile, the way he slightly changes his voice when he speaks to you, or any women. You refuse to be a notch in an already impressive bedpost, or to be the woman people talk about.

He might have a reputation, but from what you’ve heard, he’s one of the ‘good guys’. It lowers your guard; lets you point vaguely in the direction of your car. Javier smiles.

It’s a good smile. You can understand the rumours with a smile like that.

“We haven’t met, have we? I’m Javi” Five words. It takes only five words for Javier Peña to ruin everything. “I’d definitely remember seeing someone like you. Which uh, office are you in?”

You stand stonily silent, listening to the water running off the umbrella. Javier looks at you, brow furrowed as you extend the silence.

The rain does sound beautiful.

You open your car door and get in. Part of you wants to leave Javier right there, standing dumbfounded in the rain, his clothes getting damper by the second, the rain pouring over his stupid umbrella.

“I work for Messina, Peña, in the same damn office,” you say finally before slamming the door shut and starting your car engine.

“You changed your hair,” he says, hands on his hips defensively as he stands over your desk. “What’s your problem, Agent Peña?” “You changed your hair, that’s why I didn’t recognise you.” “Right.” You’re proud you manage to avoid physically rolling your eyes at his excuses. “It’s true,” he argues, shifting his position slightly. “Uh huh.” You remember that Colleen has boasted about him noticing her damn nail varnish so this feels weak at best so this hardly feels plausible, but as you look up you notice that Javi appears genuinely disturbed at your reaction. You take in his appearance further, now he’s not at the end of another busy day, isn’t fighting away rain in a damp suit and shirt, with curls peeking through his hair. Today he’s wearing a white shirt with a black pattern on it, his hair slightly scruffy, but moustache carefully sculpted. He smells like cologne and cigarettes. Sweet, woody notes trying to mask smoke and drawing you in like a siren’s song. “Look, this has been … delightful, but do excuse me, Agent Peña,” you say coolly, focusing on each syllable of his surname because you at least remember his name, at least you remember meeting him before yesterday. “I need to get back to work.” “Oh, well, please don’t let me keep you,” Javi replies with a sardonic tone, one eyebrow raised and his arms folded. “I shan’t.” You don’t move. “Must be very important work,” he says pleasantly, a slight smirk at your lack of movement. “Well, someone has to actually work around here,” you reply sweetly.

You don’t need to be a special agent to know that everybody has secrets. It’s a fact of life. There will always be things we keep from others, especially at work. Most of them will be mild and harmless, but some of them won’t be. It’s a constant.

There’s a reliability to this idea that perhaps you’re never getting the true person in front of you; just the shiny version that they want to project, the one that masks all the little secrets like they can’t quit smoking, or they drink milk straight from the carton.

It’s you too. You have a secret.

Your secret is wearing a light blue shirt today. Your secret is walking down the hallway arguing with his colleague. Your secret is the smell of cigarette smoke, whispered words and so much heat.

Your secret now is Agent Javier Peña.

He’s been your secret for weeks; weeks since the teasing banter developed into something else, to lingering touches, to kisses that you need like breathing and hands that map your body in a way you can hardly describe. You spent the month break from rainstorms in between yours and Javi’s apartments under the cover of night and cloud. Now it’s raining again, the wet season truly living up to its name.

Down in the DEA office, you can’t hear or see the rain outside. The windowless, dimly lit basement is a world away from the bustle of Bogota’s streets, yet somehow still is damp. Colombia’s wetness permeates through poorly maintained vents, through wet umbrellas in the bucket by the office door that hint at a world outside.

Steve and Javier are arguing. It’s not subtle, not a quiet disagreement between colleagues. It’s hands on hips, hands in the air, shaking heads and barely concealed curse words.

Maybe you should say something.

Or maybe not.

You try and return to your paperwork and the steaming mug of coffee you’ve been anticipating ever since your morning cup. There’s a coffee shop a few steps from your apartment building and you’ve finally convinced them to sell you some of their coffee blend. It’s not quite the same, but it’s close.

You think of breakfast this morning. The ghost of Javi’s lips on yours.

There’s a noise, a clearing of a throat and you look up to see Steve and Javi standing in front of your desk.

“Messina’s in meetings until five.”

“I know,” Javi says.

“It’s you, we want to speak to.”

You raise an eyebrow. Whatever this is between you and Javi relies on the two of you barely acknowledging one another in the office.

“You’re fluent in Spanish, right?” Steve asks directly.

You nod, still perplexed at how Steve’s Spanish is . “Why?”

“Firearm trained? You’re not just a desk jockey, right? You’re qualified?”

“Came third in my class.” You may have been a little higher if not for a terrible argument with your parents two days before your final exam. It hadn’t been your finest hour. You still carry it with you in every awkward phone call, every stilted letter home.

“Okay. That’s good. So, I don’t see the problem, Javi.”

“She came third. Who came first?’

“Really?” you ask incredulously, hurt and anger raging. How fucking dare he? You’ve told him about how hard it is to be taken seriously in the department, how the sexist roots prevail even with Messina in charge. Institutions can’t change overnight - they need people like you to fight them. Javi had emphasised, talked about his own barriers, the presumptions people had from his surname, his heritage.

He has the decency to look away, eyes abashed and fixated on the floor. Good, you think, that’s the very least he could do.

“I can get one of my informants -” No, you think, no, not one of Javi’s informants. You’ll do it, whatever Steve needs, surely you can do it instead?

“What do you need, Steve?”

This morning feels a world away now, but you let the memory take you away from this moment, from Javi’s inscrutable look when you said yes to Steve, from the fact you’re doing something this brave, this dangerous. You remember the coffee on the stove, its rich aroma seeping through the room as you wander out of Javi’s bedroom. Hands behind, wrapping around your wait and turning you around to meet his kiss. His hands move down your nightdress, teasing at the lacy hem as he moves them underneath. Laughing between kisses. “It’s raining,” you say. “I noticed,” he teases, tracing kisses down to your neck and then back up your jaw. “I think of you when it rains.” “Oh, yeah?” Javi stops for a second and looks at you quizzically. “Of how we got talking, of how we got from there, in that moment to here.” “Well ,I’ve never been more grateful to be caught in the rain.”

You’re starting to wonder if there was ever a time in Colombia that it wasn’t raining. The stormy clouds add to the greyness and foreboding of the street you’re currently parked in.

“Don’t,” Javi says quietly, the rain hitting the car windows and roof, echoing loudly around you. “Please don’t do this.”

You chance a look at him. “Do you not believe I can do this?” you ask, the concealed firearm heavy on your side, the wire Javi had put on feeling all to visible to you. He’d swallowed as he did it, featherlight fingers trying not to linger, you wondered if he was also trying not to default to the usual way he’d touch you.

“Oh, baby, I know you can.” Javi swallows. “But I want to be selfish and tell you not to do this. This isn’t a game, it’s not a drill -”

“I know that. I’ve been through the same training -”

“It’s different. You’ve not seen what I’ve seen.”

“I can handle it,” you reply simply.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Don’t be a sexist.”

“Don’t be so naive then, goddammit!”

“I’ve read the reports, studied the intel. I am not some naive ingenue here, Javi, fuck you for saying that. You made out I was stupid earlier, like I was some -”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear the apology is genuine.

You don’t reply, letting the rain speak for you instead. If you’re honest, you are nervous. This is your first undercover assignment and is so beyond the comfort and safety provided by your windowless desk.

It’s the job though, it’s what is needed.

“I’ve got this, Javi, whether or not you believe in me,”

“I do believe in you. I am sorry. I just - I don’t like it out here. I don’t like me out here, I don’t like who I am or who I become and I don’t - you’re still you. That’s part of what I love about you.”

You raise an eyebrow, meet Javi’s gaze. “Love, huh?”

You expect him to walk his words back, to huff or not say a word. He just shrugs.

“You ready?” Steve asks through the walkie talkie.

You nod before catching yourself, pressing the button and saying, “Yes, yeah, I’m ready and in position.”

“Okay, keep it to what we agreed, nothing else and keep it quick.”

Next to you, Javi looks at you pointedly, reinforcing Steve’s words.

“Understood,” you say and you can’t help but chance a smile at Javi as you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car.

Rain hitting your skin.

Your heart’s racing, it’s so loud you can feel it in your ears. The incessant beating and drumming of adrenaline coursing through your body.

You should be cold, but you’re not. Not as they load them into the van, as Steve pats you on the back to congratulate you on a job well done.

You wish your undercover persona was the type of woman who wore a coat on a rainy night. You wrap your arms around yourself.

You can still hear the gunshot. The shouts.

There’s a weight on your shoulder, the scent of cologne, cigarettes … Javi permeating through your haze.

He stands next to you, leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“I’m fine,” you say urgently.

“I know.”

“It’s just … a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they had made me towards the end.”

Javi pauses, taking a long drag of his cigarette before offering you it. You accept it with surprisingly shaky hands.

“I did too,” he admits in a low voice.

“But they didn’t.”

“They didn’t.” Javi pauses. “You did great.”

“You haven’t.”

“I haven’t, what?” he asks playfully, turning to face you. In the dim streetlight, you notice each feature of his face, how it’s illuminated in yellow light and how deep brown his eyes really are. His brow is furrowed, hair slightly dishevelled in the way you normally associate with a good night, but you know from his bad days in the office is from running his hand through his hair too many times.

“Changed,” you say. “You said you don’t like who you become, but you’re you, Javi. I like you. All of you.”

“You say shit like that, I’m going to end up kissing you right here.”

“Dare you,” you tease.

He smirks. “I would,” he replies in a low voice.

“It’d be romantic, with the rain and all. Maybe less so with our colleagues around though. ”

“Is that what you want?”

“Do you?” It’s the first time the two of you have broached this subject. For months, you’ve existed in peace with the parts of Javi he can give you out of an assumption that was all that he could offer. Today seems to have changed things though.

Javi swallows.

“Take away the job, or who you’re hunting, take it all away for a moment. Would you want - would you want to be with me like that?”

“If we were in Texas, if none of this was going on, then nothing would stop me.”

“I’ve never been to Texas,” you muse.

“When this is over, we can go,” Javi says and the vulnerability in his eyes is so alien.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Looks like it’s still raining,” Javi says, noticing your attention at the view outside.

“Yep,” you say, “I suppose we should head back to everyone else, right? Finish the paperwork?”

“I didn’t say it this morning, but I think of you too. When it rains, I always think of you.”

Tag List

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.33

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Finally away from the chaos, you relax your tense shoulders as soon as the door to Nat’s bedroom shuts. You take notice of the way Nat constantly protectively hovers near you and the subtle brushes of her hand against yours. If you’re honest you hadn’t been expecting her to be this physical but you’re not complaining. 

The first thing you notice is her gray comforter and you smirk at the reminder of your previous conversation.

“What are you smiling at?” You could give her a long list of reasons you would be smiling right now (most of them pertaining to her presence) but instead, you opt for the truth.

“You really need better taste in comforters”

Nat groans, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. The apprehension from the car ride seems to have completely dissipated and you’re grateful that she’s feeling as comfortable around you in person as she was over the phone.

Taking the opportunity to observe her room, you notice the decoration is minimal but still cute. Books on the shelves, a few framed pictures of her and the other Avengers, a few framed drawings made by some kids who call her “Aunty Nat”

It feels incredibly intimate to be in the space where Natasha spends all of her time and you’re unsure what to do with yourself until Nat gestures for you to sit at the edge of her bed.

You take the invitation and plop down on the gray comforter while Nat chooses to stay standing, the two of you observing each other in privacy for the first time. Your hands itch to touch her again and you have a feeling you were going to have that urge for a while. 

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full of things the two of you were too afraid to say. Was it too soon to tell her how you felt? Maybe you should diffuse some of this tension between the two of you?

“So not an FBI agent then” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it feels appropriate to mention the first conversation you’d ever had for one of your first in-person conversations. Like an ode to the past but a promise of a playful future.

She smiles at the reference “Not quite” Now that the two of you are alone her expression has changed into something softer. Her once-guarded eyes now shine with an expression so profound it makes your heart ache. A permanent smile stuck on her inviting lips.

Without the pressure of other people, the two of you could express your love for each other with more than just a verbal longing. Your body language spoke more than your words ever could.

You don’t know if Natasha can read the emotions on your face, or if her reading them would be a good or bad thing but you know you don’t want to say goodbye anytime soon.

”I think you owe me a picnic date” it’s the only thing you can think to say to comprehend your desire to stay without outright asking. You hope it quells any doubts in Nat's mind that you would want anything near the opposite of being with her.

“Oh yeah?” Her reply is sultry, the rasp of her voice seems to intensify tenfold in the privacy of her room and you’re suddenly aware of just how alone the two of you are. If Nat didn’t want anyone to enter and interrupt then no one would dare. 

You have to clear your throat before you can reply, afraid the want would be too prominent and scare her off. Truthfully she could do anything she wanted to you in this moment and you wouldn't object.

Her signature smirk is back in an instant and you’re sure you’ve been caught just by the look in her eyes but she doesn’t comment on it “I think I can do that”

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket and it reminds you that there’s a world outside of the two of you- reminds you that Nat is a woman with a tough life and even tougher responsibilities. A life that you would hate to get in the way of. 

The thought makes you frown ”You must be busy with sorting out the government and superhero business and other stuff” She doesn’t give you more than a second to drown in your thoughts-

”I’d drop everything for you, Y/n” It's a quick response, and even she seems surprised by her own words but she doesn't seem to regret them. It’s a bigger admission than you were ready for but it’s still a welcome one. If anything it gives you confidence in your own feelings.

~

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on each other's lives and dancing around the obvious tensions between you. Nat remains standing and you wonder if it’s a force of habit until you notice her restless hands and come to the striking realization that she was holding herself back- from touching you.

When there’s a lull in the conversation you gather up the courage to ask her a question you’ve been wondering since you figured out Nat was Natasha

“Why did you keep texting me? You could’ve blocked me or probably disabled my phone if you wanted but you didn’t” You don’t tell her yet how grateful you are that she never stopped texting you. How you were so consumed by your loneliness that you never even went out before her. 

The thrill that anyone could be her was one of the things that pushed you to go outside more.

Nat smiled softly “I don’t really know why either. I probably should’ve done those things but…” Her eyes turn solemn despite the smile on her face and it makes you want to distract her from whatever memory is making her sad but the desire to know why she kept texting you kept your mouth shut “I think part of me needed someone to talk to who didn’t know who I was or what I’d done. It also didn’t hurt to get such high praise about myself all the time”

You blush, looking away. The memory of all of your fan-girl rambles causing you to groan and cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Oh my gosh, I said all of those things about how much I liked you to you” You hear her footsteps get closer and when you peek out from between your fingers you see her standing right in front of you staring down at you with mirth in her eyes.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it was cute” You choke out a sound of embarrassment, you’re not sure how red you are but you’re sure tomatoes would probably be jealous.

“I regret so much” You mock whisper and in a second two hands are tugging yours away from your face, the sly smile on Nat’s face is replaced with a more serious look

“Y/n,” You struggle to maintain eye contact when she’s looking at you so strongly “Nobody’s ever talked about me the way you did, it made me proud of who I am, which is something I’m not often” You frown a little and Nat’s eyes drop to your lips for a split second before regaining eye contact

“You can be embarrassed but you’re not allowed to regret it” You nod slowly and she pulls away, letting go of your arms but still standing over you. Your skin burns where she touched and you’re sure your heart is beating loud enough for her to hear it. 

She had no business having this much of an effect on you but you were helpless to stop it. -Not that you wanted to.

“So…” You start “ This might make things a little awkward between us but I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore” She tilts her head in question but stays silent for you to continue. You take a deep reassuring breath in and begin speaking before you can convince yourself to quit

“I know this might sound a little bit crazy because this is our first time meeting in person but you’re such an incredible person inside and out, and you were always there for me when I needed you, and you’re unfairly funny for someone who claims to not have a sense of humor and well… it was kind of inevitable that I would fall in love with you” 

It’s terrifying to admit to her but there’s a weight that lifts off of your shoulders nonetheless. The silence is heavy and you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes, scared that all you’ll find is rejection or disgust. You’re so sure that you’ve just ruined the best potential friendship and regret begins to sink into your skin when Nat once again guides your face to look up at her.

Much to your surprise, you don’t find disgust or disappointment, instead, you find two glassy green eyes staring at you with so much adoration it fills your whole body with warmth. She looks like she can’t believe what she just heard is real and it’s your turn to hear just how rapidly her heart is beating 

“Say it again” It takes you a few seconds to register her words but once you do a hopeful smile creeps onto your face

“I love you.” You say a little shakily, and then with more confidence “ I love you, Nat. More than I probably should love someone I met on the internet but what can I say? I fell in love with you.” You laugh a little as happy tears begin trailing down your cheeks, “You don’t have to say it back I just-”

“I love you too” She interrupts and your heart tugs blissfully in your chest “From the moment I met you I should’ve blocked your number but I couldn’t. You just had this magnetic energy even through the phone and it drew me to you in a way I knew would end up with my heart in a mess.” You’re crying even harder now and Nat takes a moment to wipe the tears from your face before continuing-

“- And then I saw you at Starks party and you were… everything. Witty and gorgeous and beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined you’d be. That’s when I knew, even if it was terrifying- even if it was unfamiliar and I could get hurt- I knew then that I was in love with you.”

You’ve never heard anyone talk about you in such a way and it moves you so much that you can’t bear to hold yourself back any longer. Your hand drifts to her face and your eyes search hers for permission only for her to pull you in.

Your lips meet in a teary overwhelmingly tender kiss and you think you could live in this moment forever. Nat’s hands tug at your cheeks to pull you even closer and your hands find purchase around her neck, the two of you lost in each other.

Your body melts at her touch and you lose track of time as your mind hazes over, incapable of thinking of anything but the feeling of Nat’s lips against yours until the need for oxygen pulls you apart. 

Even though you pull apart Natasha keeps her forehead pressed against yours, not wanting to break contact. Overwhelmed with joy, a small breathy laugh escapes you as you stare into Nat’s heady gaze.

“Do you think we could do that again?” You’re a little shy to ask but Nat responds with a husky laugh of her own

“I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, Y/n”

Epilogue

A/n: Gah! Finally! God they’re so perfect for each other :( I’m going to miss them ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime @taliiiaasteria @bgwlsmahf25 @chibilauren @natashasgirlll @nmhlver @strange-night-owl @obsessedwjill @autorasexy @madamevirgo @kissesfornat @gemz5

[colubrina]

what does querying mean

Ah! OK. I forget that normal people don't know what this process entails.

So, if you want to be "trad" published (which basically means the kind of published that gets your book into bookstores) you will probably need a literary agent. Some small presses do not require that writers submit books for consideration through an agent, but pretty much every book you've ever heard of went through both a literary agent and a publisher that requires authors use them. So, how do you get a literary agent? You send a very specialized letter called a 'query letter', often with the first few pages of your novel, for them to read and decide if they want to 'represent' it, which means try to sell it for you in exchange for a 15% commission. The query letter I used for the 6th book I queried was this...

Dear [agent],

NO GOOD WITCHES is a 90,000-word YA speculative that will appeal to readers of A Deadly Education and Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. It’s a ‘girl goes evil and gets shit done while awe-stuck boy holds her purse so she can do the murders’ kind of book with popular tropes including found family, female friendship, dark academia, morally grey characters, power corrupts, and a romance where the boy is bad but the girl is worse (you could save him, I could make him worse; we are not the same).

Seventeen-year-old Calla watches the witch burnings on television along with everyone else in the United States. Witches can move things with their minds. They know what people are thinking. They’re terrifying, and dangerous, and the shows are a nationwide reminder that witches will not be tolerated. Her friends have never suspected Calla is one, and she needs to keep it that way. But when she answers a question before it’s asked in a history class, her future goes up in flames. She can read minds. She’s evil. Game over.

Caught and terrified, Calla is surprised when she isn’t dragged to a pyre, but to a hospital where she’s poked and prodded to find out how powerful she is. Turns out, good witches—compliant witches—don’t get sent to the stake. They get trained in hidden schools and sharpened into weapons. Their ability to manipulate matter powers the electrical plants and their mindreading gets used by the diplomatic corp. Calla doesn’t feel like getting burned alive, so she learns everything she can.

Including how she—and her new witch friends—can burn the system down rather than let powerful men exploit their magic.

By the time she’s done, there won’t be a single good witch left.

I was mentored in both the Pitch Wars and Author Mentor Match programs, and I was previously represented but my agent and I have amicably parted ways and this manuscript has never been on submission. I live in Connecticut with cats, my family, and some unhappy plants. I am not a witch.

Thank you,

Collie

I sent 69 versions of this query out, 2 of which were referrals (meaning a current client of the agent recommended me)

17 times the agent ghosted my query.

43 times the agent rejected at the query stage

7 times the agent requested more materials. (This is about a 10% request rate and is not great but not terrible either.)

2 times the agent ghosted the requested materials

3 times the agent rejected the additional materials

Once the agent offered me what's called a "revise and resubmit" where she sent some detailed edits I could do and then she would reconsider whether she wanted to rep it. I disagreed pretty strenuously with one of her suggestions (she wanted me to cut the romance) and so I didn't pursue it.

The whole process is tedious and unfun and pretty much necessary if you want your book to be in, say, Barnes and Noble. I do not enjoy it. I am going to do it for the seventh time starting this fall. Maybe I'll do a 'querying diary' the way I do a log of what I've written. That would be fun.

Ask me anything about querying. I am a bona fide expert on this.

[greazyfloz]

Hi dear, I would like to make a request, but I don't have a specific player in mind, I just think it's an older one, like Tkachuk, Hischier or Matthews - where he and the reader are already in an established relationship.

Prompts: 

Fluff 11: “Do you think your future a lot” “I think about our future a lot”

Smut 27: “Let’s pump a couple babies into ya”

Smut: 27. “Let’s pump a couple babies into ya” & Fluff 11. “Do you think about your future a lot?” “I think about our future a lot” w/ Auston Matthews

Everything With You

Auston and I have been dating for 3 years now and not once have we ever talked about the possibility of leaving Toronto. Right now is stressful for me and Auston can sense it. The trade rumours are hard to listen to as I want to keep Auston and I’s little family, him, Felix and I, in Toronto close to my parents and all my friends. It makes dating a professional athlete easier so moving stresses me out.

We were still in Toronto even a couple weeks after they were eliminated from playoffs, which is odd because usually we would be back in Arizona for the summer. Auston had to do some end of year meetings with the Leafs and talk contracts with his agents and GM leading us to be in Toronto longer.

Today was the first morning that Auston wasn’t up before me. The past few weeks he would typically get up and start his day earlier to get to the scotiabank arena and get that out of the way but this morning he was still in bed when I opened my eyes.

I kissed his chest and held him a little closer as I rested my head on his chest. He stirs awake smiling when he sees me.

“Hi baby” he says smiling looking down at his chest where I lay

“Hi” I smile back looking up into his eyes, “why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be at the rink?”

“No, Kyle is taking the day off today” he says as he runs his hand through my hair. We lay in silence just cuddling until I’m bothered by the thought of how the trade will affect our future together. “What is going on in that pretty little mind of yours?” He asks with a soft smile.

“The future” I say

“Still stressing out about my contract?” He starts but then laughs, “I swear you are stressed more than me and it’s my contract”

“Yes, yes I am” I say with a giggle before sitting up in the bed and looking down at his laying body beside me as he looks up at me, “do you think of your future a lot?” I ask him suddenly.

I watch him sit up before he throws his arm over my shoulder and rests his head on top of mine, “I think about our future a lot”

I turn to look at him and he is already looking at me, “what do you want in our future?”

“A big wedding, relaxing honeymoon in Bora Bora or Cancun, or somewhere nice and hot, and a couple little hockey players. You’ll stress about their contracts too and maybe we will have a girl and she can keep her brothers in line. Maybe a friend for Felix” he says and I smile, “what about you?”

“I want all of that but in Toronto” I say and he sucks his cheek at my reply then tries to fix the mood

“So how many babies we talking then?” He says and I laugh

“Lots and lots of them”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, tons. A whole hockey team”

“You know what that means right?” He says tilting my face up to look at him. He presses his lips on mine and my body sinks into the bed and he climbs over top of me, “means we have to start soon”

“How soon?” I say before my hand find the back of his neck pulling him back down to kiss my lips.

“How about now?” He says into the kiss while we continue making out. His lips leave my lips and he trails kissing down to my jaw then down my chest until he is at my tits. He cups one of them while sucking on the other one. He pulls away then brings himself back up to kiss my lips, “come on, what do you say? Let’s pump a couple babies into ya”

I smile as he presses his lips back onto mine as his hands trails down my body until he reaches my hip. He then takes his hand away to stroke his cock a couple times before rubbing his tip on my entrance.

“Yes Auston! Fuck me baby” I say feeling him tease me

“Fuck you are so sexy when you beg for my cock” he says hooking his tip into my entrance.

“Please baby” I whine and Auston slowly pushes himself inside of me, watching me squirm as he pushes himself inside of me deeper and deeper until he is fully inside of me.

He begins thrusting continuously getting faster and faster. I moan out loudly with every thrust.

“Holy shit” I moan, “your so fucking big”

I breathlessly continue to moan and a smirking Auston looks down at me as my hands reach out to the sides of the bed gripping on the sheets.

“Fuck” he grunts

“Yes Auston, Yes!”

“You look so pretty taking my cock”

He continues thrusting through my orgasm as I whimper louder than before. I throw my head back as his thrusts becomes sloppier. He leans down and rests his face in the crook of my neck as he continues thrusting slow and hard.

He begins to grunt with every thrust before he releases himself inside of me, filling me up with his warm liquid. While resting his face in the crook of my neck he kisses my collarbone over and over quickly trailing his kisses up my neck then kissing my lips once passionately then flipping beside me.

“I love you, mommy” he says making me laugh hysterically at his goofiness.

“Love you more papi”

[the-hopeless-haze]

Glorious Happenings of Happenstance

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: mild smut

Summary: You get Aaron to accompany you to a wedding. It's the only night you have together, so you might as well make the most of it. Right? (as requested by Aaron deficiency anon)

-------

You hate your brother.

You don’t, really, you just dislike him right now, dragging your whole family to Boston for a wedding a week before you were supposed to be starting your new job. It was always like that with you two, push and pull, a constant game of tug and war of who was going to outdo the other one. You got the prestigious job but he was getting married. Young - like all the army rats. Dumb. Stupid. It wouldn’t last. But whatever. The hotel is nice, and you managed to escape your future sister-in-law’s bachelorette plans to get a drink at the bar by yourself. Never mind the fact she couldn’t legally drink and neither could your brother. Stupid. Very stupid.

But your parents made it known your input was unwanted and uncalled for so you kept your mouth shut. Maybe you could just be inebriated this whole weekend. God forbid someone tries to talk him out of one of the worst mistakes of his life.

You order a mojito because you’ve been sweltering in the humidity of the Boston summer, but then… you think maybe you won’t need to be drunk on liquor as you see a tall man with jet-black hair sit down on your right, leaving a few empty seats between the two of you. He looks authoritative; like people listen when he speaks; like he could command a room without so much as whispering. He’s too old for you, but fuck it, if your parents had nothing to say about your brother getting married the second he turned eighteen, they can’t say shit about who you end up with.

But still. You’re not staying in Massachusetts, and from the looks of him, you doubt he is either. He must be here on business, still dressed in black dress slacks and a suit jacket in the heat, never mind that it’s almost 10 pm. Although, who knows? Lots of suit types around, although not necessarily in hotel bars.

He orders something strong on the rocks, sipping slowly at the amber liquid. You eye his hand on the glass... and god. It dwarfs it, making it look tiny wrapped in his long fingers.

You bite your lip and turn away, sipping cautiously at your own drink. You weren’t thinking about meeting anyone here, anyway. You sweat off most of your makeup this morning driving to the hotel and your hair was a frizzy mess, soaking up all the moisture from the air it could get. You needed a shower. You just wanted a few drinks alone before turning in for the night. Right?

You’d never had a one-night stand yourself. You didn’t know how those worked, and you thought emotional entanglements before starting as an FBI agent, however brief they were… wouldn’t exactly be a good start to your career. You didn’t want to be missing him, waiting for calls that never came.

Jesus. You need to get a grip. You haven’t said a word to this man. You don’t even know his name.

Scanning him over again, you drink in his dark hair and eyes, thick eyebrows, sharp jawline, and broad shoulders. You’re not being exactly subtle in checking him out as you start to feel the effects of the alcohol loosening you up a little.

So you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are that he catches you.

Aaron noticed you when he walked into the bar, but he deduced that you were tired and wanted to be left alone. A woman alone in a hotel bar that clearly wasn’t here on work, clad in a sundress… you were here to deal with something. Fight with a lover, family member, or friend - someone you were on vacation with. You didn’t want company. And neither did he, really. But now that your eyes met, he feels like you look so familiar, and yet he can’t quite figure out why. You give a small, shy smile and you slide down the few bar stools and tell him your name.

“I’m Aaron,” he responds, using his first instead of his last name to introduce himself. A rarity. You’ve got to be twenty years his junior. Nothing can come of this, he tells himself, trying to ignore the thin strap of your dress that was falling off your shoulder.

“You here for the wedding?” you ask, hopeful that maybe he was some long-distance relative of your brother’s fiancée, that you would somehow be able to run into him again. Celebrate the inevitable divorce.

“Wedding? No,” he answers, eyebrows raising a little in surprise.

Damn it. Couldn’t be so lucky.

“Who’s getting married?” he asks.

“My brother,” you answer.

“Shouldn’t you know who’s in the wedding party, then?” he asks, giving you a small smile, just wide enough to see the hints of dimples on his cheeks.

God. You were half in love with him already.

“I don’t know her side,” you answer, smiling back.

“They haven’t been together long?”

“Nope. Guess.”

“How long? I don’t know. Six months.”

“You think that’s short? Try four,” you say. “He’s going into the army. Straight out of high school. And no, she’s not pregnant.”

“You don’t sound like you approve,” he observes.

“Would you?”

“I don’t know. Stranger things have worked out.”

“I’ve never seen high school sweethearts stay together. And if they do… they’re usually not happy.”

“You’re barely out of high school yourself.”

“I’m 25!”

“Proving my point,” he says, smiling again. “I married my high school sweetheart.”

“I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger,” you point out.

“No. You don’t,” he sighs, taking a swig of his whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately apologize, hating yourself for your lack of filter. “I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s okay,” he cuts off your apology. “I invited the observation. We… we wanted different things.”

“Isn’t that the way shit always ends?”

Aaron nods, swallowing down the rest of his drink. “What about you? Are you against all marriages or just the shotgun ones?”

“Mostly just those, but I don’t know. I really don’t see the benefit at all,” you shrug.

“Right. So jaded in your old age,” he quips.

You giggle, shaking your head. “I’ll buy the next round?” you offer tentatively.

“I believe it’s the other way around,” he says, flagging down the bartender before you could and adding your next drink to his tab.

You try and fail to ignore the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. “There’s always tax breaks.”

“What?” you ask, caught off guard by his out-of-context statement.

“Filing as married. Tax breaks,” Aaron clarifies.

“Yeah. Health insurance, too. Or, you know, not having to live in the barracks.”

“The joys of marriage.”

You roll your eyes. “How romantic. Spare me. Please.”

“No one’s tying you down, hmm?”

“No,” you say, but you give him a lilting smile, one you hope dares him to try.

“Fair enough.”

“What brings you out here, then, if it’s not to be my plus one to this sham of a wedding?”

“Work,” he replies. “Giving a conference at a college nearby.”

“You don’t have time to come in between?”

You don’t know why you’re inviting him. You don’t want him to meet your family, not like this, anyway. You don’t want to lead him on. It’s the alcohol, maybe, loosening your lips.

“I think your parents would kill me,” Aaron says firmly.

“Right. If they don’t care what my brother does, they shouldn’t care what I do. Bringing you to the wedding would be marginally less stupid than actually getting married.”

He sighs your name, shaking his head. “I can’t in good conscience agree to that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll never see you again after this.”

“So?” you shrug.

“I don’t intend on starting something I can’t finish,” he says lowly, and you wonder… is that flirting? Is that what he’s doing?

“Fair enough,” you concede. “A little bit too much pressure for something that’s destined to go nowhere.”

“You’re not from here, either?”

“I’m moving for my job,” you tell him.

“Which is?”

You laugh and shake your head. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” he says, smiling against the glass as he lifts it to his mouth. “CIA?”

“You’re serious,” you say, incredulous. “You actually believe I’m joining the CIA?”

“You’ve got a talent for holding a conversation without saying anything,” he points out.

“Takes one to know one,” you shoot back, realizing all you really learned about him was his first name and that he was married and now divorced.

He shrugs. “Good quality to have if for whatever reason you need to go undercover. Also, good quality to have when you’re in possession of vital, secret information. Something to think about.”

“You want to refer me?”

“Smooth,” he grins. “Nice deflection.”

“I’m most certainly not joining the CIA, Aaron, but if that’s what you’d like to follow you around in your fantasies of me, be my guest,” you smile back.

“Fantasies?”

“Since nothing can come of this. All we’re left with, right?”

“It’s a conversation in a bar. Those end two ways. Three, actually.”

“Which are?”

“The people involved in the conversation get a room. Or they leave and never speak again. Or… provided one is a CIA agent and on a covert operation, she may in fact kill the man involved.”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh anyway. Maybe it’s the alcohol loosening him up a bit, you don’t know, but you get the feeling he’s not often like this.

“I’m beginning to think you’re paranoid, now. What do they want you for?”

“Some light treason, probably,” he snarks.

You’re not drunk enough that the beginning of his earlier remark escapes you, though. “I take it a room isn’t in the cards for us?”

Looking at you apologetically, he whispers your name before shaking his head. “It’s not fair to either of us. Some people can live their lives like that… but I can’t. If that’s what you’re looking for, I’m sorry. I’m not the man you need tonight.”

Oh, but he is.

You hang your head, blushing. “I’m not… I don’t usually do this, either. I just figured…”

“It’s not because I don’t find you attractive,” he reassures you. “I just…can’t lead you on when I know it can’t last.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” you say, nodding. “There is a fourth way this can end, though.”

“Yeah? I’m all ears.”

“I see you tomorrow,” you grin, downing the rest of your drink. “You’ll still be around.”

And with that, you stand up, kiss his cheek, and you walk out of that bar. And you don’t look back to see his reaction no matter how much you want to.

You know he’s bad news. You know he won’t show up. You know he’s absolutely right, and an attractive man like that must have been through a series of one-night stands after his wife left or he left her and realized they just left him hollow. Didn’t fill the void she left.

He didn’t want you to add to that chapter in his life. And you can’t blame him. You’d be a toxic end to that book if there ever was one.

————-

So when you see Aaron through the windows, who lost the suit jacket, finally, hanging outside of the wedding reception, you think you’re going insane. Hallucinating. Having an out-of-body experience or something.

He was too old to be playing games. Why was he here, hanging on the outskirts like this? It’s not like he was trying to get your attention. You were having a conversation with your cousin who was praying she caught the bouquet, and when you eyed him, you told her that you need some air.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” you say, stepping out of the stuffy reception hall into the cooler night air. “Or out. Not enough balls to actually crash it?”

“I… well. I suppose I’ve been caught,” he says sheepishly, and if the lighting out here wasn’t so bad you’d swear you saw him blushing. “You look beautiful.”

Maybe you do look good, or at least better than the bar last night. You settled on a maroon one-shouldered dress that clung to your curves, paired it with black-heeled sandals and you managed to get your hands on waterproof mascara and eyeliner to beat the humidity.

“Why are you here?”

“It was the fourth option.”

“We’ve reached an impasse, though.”

“We’re down to three options, again,” Aaron nods. “I realized it was prolonging the inevitable.”

“It’s two, Aaron. Room or no room,” you say, a little tense. “There’s no inevitable. There’s just now. You showed up. You showed up now.”

He scoffs, stepping a little closer to you. “You don’t even believe that. All you think about is the future. You think your brother and his wife are destined to divorce so they shouldn’t get married. Why should we start something when we know it’s going to end? That’s what this whole week was predicated on for you. Inevitability. And trying to avoid it and get others to avoid it as well. It’s your whole anti-marriage stance. Why should anyone start what they can’t finish? Right? Why bother with any of it? Why come on to me at all? One day someone is going to leave, by choice or by circumstance.”

“You showed up,” you say again. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Aaron. You don’t know shit about me. You said so yourself last night.”

“No. I don’t know your last name or your favorite color or what your major in college was. But I know that you’re afraid.”

“Everyone’s afraid,” you shoot back. “You showed up. Why?”

“I… I wanted to see you again. It’s different now. It’s not a conversation in a bar anymore. It’s two people outside of a wedding.”

“Why see me again? Wasn’t the point of not starting to avoid hurting? Isn’t that what we’re all afraid of? Pain? We spend our whole lives trying to outrun it. You don’t like one night stands because they hurt. Because they leave you empty. Because they make you wonder and worry about the what-ifs and the consequences.”

Aaron shakes his head. “It’s not just about that. I thought about this. About us. If we only have the night… I want to do it right. I want to spend it with you.”

“Not in me?” you quip, smirking.

He says your name in a warning tone. “Don’t.”

“Fine,” you laugh. “I take it you’ll actually crash now?”

“Yes,” he nods, looking at you intensely. “I hope you can dance.”

“Dancing’s a dangerous game,” you tease. “Could quickly lead to other things.”

“Not in a room full of your family.”

“You’re a little tapped, huh?” you ask, grinning.

“Tapped?”

“Fucked in the head.”

He shrugs. “We have one night. I want it. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, Aaron,” you say, and lead him back through the glass doors of the hall. “You’ll quickly find I’m just as fucked.”

“I think I already knew that,” he chuckles lowly, taking your hand in his.

What kind of man agrees to this? You’ve had boyfriends you’ve had to fight with to meet your family in the first place, and here’s this man, all set to attend a full-blown wedding with your entire extended family. Maybe you didn’t care if it was long-distance at the end of tonight. He seems like a keeper.

Your brother eyes you from where he stands at the altar. You smile and shake your head, ushering Aaron into the back row with you. You didn’t exactly feel like you needed front-row seats for this.

His future wife, Crystal, she’s pretty, with olive skin, kind brown eyes, and curly black hair, but you’re still just taken aback by how young they are, how your brother will be selling his body and soul for the military in weeks and she’s coming along for the ride. Young love. You remember your first, the neighbor next door, a little older than you. Like everyone with their first love, you swore you’d marry him one day.

But you didn’t.

And you were better off.

Vows spoken. Rings traded. You almost tear up a little, given your recent fight with your mother about this, her saying she was glad at least one of her kids was getting married, that maybe she did have the hope of grandchildren someday. And it’s not fair, not really, to put that kind of pressure on you. You were career-oriented. You were never going to be the kind of woman who easily submit, who did what a man said, who took his last name and gave up the one you used for decades. You were never going to be a woman like Crystal, even when you were younger, and would do just about anything for male validation. Something in your brain was wired to be contradictory when someone tried to box you in.

How can you speak meaningful vows with someone you barely knew? You hear your brother spout something about love and eternal happiness, in sickness and in health, and it’s so easy to promise that when all you’ve seen is their good days.

You don’t have a traumatic background. You just know people leave. And you have always tried to never let yourself be in a vulnerable position. Even here, Aaron is the one who’s got less of a leg to stand on. Sure, his being here was going to lead to some awkward conversations with your relatives, but they were your relatives. He was the one out of place.

Your aunt turns around after the ceremony ends to say something to you, but she stops short upon catching Aaron’s eyes. So it begins.

“Who’s this?” she asks.

“My hooker for the night,” you tell her, deadpan, staring at your nails like you’re uninterested, and it’s so hard not to break out into a smile when you see Aaron blushing in your peripheral, sputtering and trying to come up with an excuse as to why he is sitting next to you other than being a sex worker.

You take it he’s never been with a woman like you before.

And at first, you disliked the odds stacked against you, but now you’re realizing how much fun you can have with this. There’s no need to hide your true colors because you’re both leaving at the end of the night anyway. You can be as unhinged as you want. No reason to play it up, make it out like you’re someone you’re not just so he might ask you out again… because this is it. Lowkey. No pressure.

“Don’t worry, honey, she’s always been like that,” your aunt reassures him, patting his shoulder gently. “Although if you really are a hooker, I’ll take your business card. You’re good-looking and you’ll be a plus one? A dream.”

“I assure you, I’m not a hooker, ma’am,” Aaron denies quickly, stoically.

“That’s what they all say,” you quip back. “Remember how much I’m paying you.”

If looks could kill, you’d be bleeding from a thousand stab wounds right now. But you were having fun, more fun than you’d had with a man in a long time.

“You’re not cute,” he whispers in your ear when your aunt turns back around.

“You wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you thought that,” you retort, starting to feel a little hot under your dress at his lips so close to your skin. “Besides, you should be gloating right now. You’re so attractive that my aunt thinks women would pay you to have sex with them.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I should be jumping for joy at that,” he says sarcastically.

“Exactly,” you nod, smirking at him, taking his snark seriously. “Relax. One night, right? Even if you make a complete ass out of yourself, this is it.”

“Yeah.”

“When’s the last time you had a good time, Aaron?” you ask suddenly. “No strings attached, good time? Because fine. I don’t know your last name or your major in college or your favorite color either. But if I’m afraid, you’re miserable. You need to let loose. You came here for a reason. I can at least give you that.”

“I just don’t want—“

“Them to think you’re a hooker? Please. First of all, I’m the most frugal bitch alive. They know I didn’t actually pay you to be here or to dick me down later. No one will believe that. And again, Aaron, what the fuck do you care what they believe? They’re never going to see you again. And we’re at a sham of a wedding to top it all off. So… live a little. Have a good time. Tell me some stupid jokes. Dance with me. Have a couple of drinks. And let it go. Whatever baggage you have does not exist in this room if whatever fears I have aren’t supposed to either.”

“You make a good case,” he mutters.

“I know I do,” you grin, pressing your lips to kiss right behind the ear you were whispering in, marveling at how quickly his skin flushes red at your touch.

Both of you stop talking for a moment as the first dance starts, and the couples slowly start to head to the dance floor. “Lover” by Taylor Swift, Crystal’s choice, you guess; and you can’t help but think it’s a funny one. A love song, sure, but almost a cop-out of marriage if there ever was one. “I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover”… but not my husband. Backing away from the thought of forever commitment. I want all your summers but not your last name or your ring on my finger. Nothing to symbolize it, tie me to it.

“Can I have this dance?” Aaron asks you, and you wonder if he’s secretly a masochist. Maybe he likes to be teased and kept on edge.

You nod, though, and let him lead you out into the dance floor to join the other couples.

“Keeping enough room for Jesus?” you tease, looking down at the space between your bodies.

Scoffing, he pulls you closer by the waist, so there are millimeters of space between your bodies now, and you feel your face heat up as his hands stay on the small of your back. “Happy?”

“Happier,” you concede. “How do you know how to dance?”

“I was married before,” he reminds you. “It doesn’t seem like you know how, though.”

“Hmm?” you question, glaring at him.

“Your hands go on my shoulders. Or around my neck.”

“I knew that,” you mutter, placing your hands on his shoulders tentatively, catching his dark brown eyes with yours, shuddering at the intensity he was looking at you with. Taylor Swift continues to croon her undying love and you stare at this man, at this moment in your lifetime, fading away as you’re holding him close, swaying slowly to the music.

Love at first sight doesn’t exist. You rationalized that all away ages ago. Lust, sure. Lust is common, ordinary, every day.

But you know what lust looks like. It’s predatory looks from men across a dusky bar room or it’s wide-eyes, pupils-dilated, unbridled passion, kiss-bruised lips. But you weren’t getting any of that from the way he was looking at you.

And you know you’re going to see those eyes in your dreams, eyes you can glean pain from, eyes trying to reach the depths of your soul to see where you buried your hurt to rest too. Understand you, not the things you tell people when you make small talk like your college major or your favorite color but the things you tell people when they want to get to know you like your stance on God or presidential candidates or… marriage.

You don’t know where the hesitancy came from, all of a sudden, but it’s the intensity of his eyes and the heat radiating from his body and the lights are lower and the song is ending and you’re inching your face toward his and you’re not sure who touched their lips to whose first but his mouth is on yours now, and his eyes finally close. You watch them flutter close, long eyelashes brushing against yours as he lets himself envelop you without a word. You’ve never been kissed like this, so feather-light and without a hint of urgency, like he’s taking his time, like he’ll take the entire wedding reception to explore every square centimeter of your mouth with his own. Being you, though, you don’t have the patience for that, and you bring your hands from his shoulders to clasp around the back of his neck and you get the intensity you crave, parting his lips with your tongue, closing your eyes too, feeling his soft black hair brushing against the sides of your wrists and your bodies are pressed so close and you could get lost here, couldn’t you? - but then you feel someone tap your shoulder, and you break away from him with a squeal.

“Who is this that you’re sucking face with? I’ve never seen him before,” your mother says as you turn around.

“Ask Aunt Linda,” you laugh, trying to regain your composure. “I was enjoying myself.”

“Clearly,” she says, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “Is this some kind of protest?”

“No, his name is Aaron. Aaron, this is my mother,” you say.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he says, reaching out his hand for her to shake, smiling with his dimples in a way you’re sure made his ex-in-laws fall in love with him.

She reciprocates, but she shakes her head at the same time. “I’d prefer to have met you before you were wearing my daughter’s lipstick.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” you grin at your mother. “I think it suits him, anyway.”

“Of course you do,” she says. “Why didn’t you mention you were bringing a date?”

You shrug. “Just kind of happened. Like. You know. The wedding.”

“Oh. So this is a protest. I apologize, Aaron, for you being a part of her juvenile scheme.”

“It’s really not a bother. She’s a pleasure to be around,” he grins.

Your mother laughs. “You two really did just meet, huh? You have no idea.”

“Not very nice, Mom. Don’t scare him away. Maybe I can make this a joint wedding.”

“Hell would freeze over before you get married, darling,” she says, squeezing your shoulder. “Well. Have a good time. But please keep your hands off each other. We’ve got both sets of your grandparents here and we don’t need to be sending anyone into cardiac arrest.”

“Right, Mom,” you say, rolling your eyes as she walks away.

“I see where you get all of it from,” Aaron chuckles softly.

“I see you’re a major kiss-ass even if you’re never going to see my mom again,” you retort, stepping closer to him again.

“No harm in being polite.”

“That wasn’t just polite. That was being a kiss-ass. And you still have lipstick all over your mouth.”

Then you feel his mouth on you again, soft, thorough, warm. “Did I get it?” he asks, still smiling at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, then use the advantage you have to hold his face there and pepper kisses across his face, leaving red marks in the shape of you across his skin before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, kissing your mouth again, letting you take the lead again, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping onto your shoulders like your sand slipping through his fingers.

Because you are.

“I’m going to need to clean this off before I have to meet your father,” Aaron says, laughing. “I’ll be right back.”

Aaron doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing, and he feels like he can’t recognize the man looking at him in the mirror, red lipstick smeared across his face, a seemingly permanent blush on his cheeks blending in with it. The cold water helps cool him down some, but then he thinks about you again, all smirks and quick remarks and the way you read him like a book… and he’s on fire again.

There’s no point in asking you where you’re moving. Even if it’s somewhere feasible to travel, his life and work schedule isn’t something he’d want to burden another woman with.

One night. No expectations except for a good time. That he could do, even if it was for a borderline child wedding not unlike the one he had over a decade ago.

Walking back out he sees you, eyes intense and smile lines formed at their corners as you talked to your brother, glass of champagne in your hand. “Oh, this is Aaron,” you tell him, your hand on Aaron’s back as he reaches you.

“Congratulations,” Aaron says, nodding at him.

“Thanks, man. Where the hell did you come from, though?”

“That’s my secret,” you say, grinning. “You don’t get to know.”

“Is this one going to last?”

“Doubt it,” you shrug. “Is yours?”

“Stop it,” he says, glaring at you. “I know you think I’m making a mistake. It’s already done. I don’t want to hear it anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” you say.

“At least I can keep a relationship longer than four months.”

“It hasn’t really been that much longer,” you counter.

“Well, I proposed instead of ending it.”

“Okay,” you sigh, leaning in for a side hug. “I don’t want to argue either. Go be with Crystal.”

Your brother nods, taking the hint the conversation was over, and Aaron takes the opportunity to sit down with you at one of the tables. “Is this common for you?”

“What? Taking men I don’t know to weddings? Far as I know you’re only one lucky enough,” you say tersely.

“I meant… relationships.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I try men on like I try on clothes. I’m a slut. Is that what you’re trying to get at?”

“No, not at all.”

You shake your head, sipping at the champagne and making a face at it, laughing at the acrid taste and handing it to him. “You can have that.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Aaron says calmly, taking the glass from you, and drinking from it slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s good champagne.”

“It tastes like ass,” you laugh, then frown. “You didn’t offend me. Yeah. I’ve had issues with relationships. No secret there. A normal, sane girl wouldn’t have asked you to come here, no offense.”

“A normal, sane man wouldn’t have said yes,” he replies, smiling, squeezing your hand that rested on the table. “Relationship issues are normal. No one in this room or in this city or on this planet has it figured out.”

“Did anyone try to stop you from getting married?” you ask him.

“Her mother wasn’t happy,” he recalls. “My parents figured I would figure it out. We were together through most of high school.”

“But you don’t know at that age.”

“No,” he agrees. “You don’t. Either they’ll be lucky and grow together or they’ll be unlucky and grow apart. But you don’t know unless you try.”

“The odds are—"

“They know that. I knew that. I still wanted to try anyway.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Sometimes,” Aaron admits. “Sometimes I do. I gave her a lot of years, and some of them weren’t good. A lot of them weren’t good, actually, a lot of strain and arguing and worrying about who she was seeing while I was away. But… I don’t know. You live and you learn.”

“Sometimes you do know,” you say sadly.

“Sometimes you try anyway,” he responds, bringing your hand to his lips.

You blink back tears and nod. One night. You can cry later.

Thankfully, the song changes to Cotton Eyed Joe; something ridiculous and impossible to stay down in the dumps for. Aaron glares at you but concedes when you give him a pleading look and you’re able to get him out on the floor to teach him this dance. He looks insane, what you can only imagine as a normally uptight, repressed man learning choreography from you for a novelty song.

Breathless and laughing he kisses you. Again. Again. Again. You don’t care about your mother’s warning and you’re glad he doesn’t either. You get the feeling he’s not one to embrace PDA like this either, but it’s one night for his mouth to be on yours, and the impression he leaves on your parents isn’t going to matter in a couple of hours anyway.

You think you’ll get whiplash from this setlist, the way it switches from upbeat to hopelessly sentimental, but Aaron rolls with the switches, pulling you back to him, swaying you gently to ‘Fade into You’. Resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him, you breathe him in. The woodsy scent of his cologne. The slight musk of his sweat. You feel his mouth press a long kiss against the top of your head.

And that’s how it ends, bringing you into a long hug at the trunk of your car the next morning, everything you own behind you. Both of you leaving this city. Heading home. You don’t talk about it. You don’t mention to him that you’d like to see him again. You don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way,” he says quietly, looking up at the sky, the clouds moving quickly overhead, threatening rain.

“Aaron, don’t,” you mutter. “We knew.”

“I know.”

Who do you get mad at for this? When it’s no one’s fault? God? Fate? The universe?

——------

Who do you thank for this? God? Fate? The Universe?

You walk into your new workplace, the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, Gideon, who you interviewed with last week leads you through the building, giving you your badge, gun, and security clearance. It must be counterfeit. No one is this lucky.

Aaron realized why you looked so familiar the second your name was mentioned. He’d seen your file, read it through thoroughly, and noticed your photograph paper-clipped to it, but he was on a plane for a case and then just as quickly he was on a plane to Boston for the conference. Gideon was the only one present for the interview. Gideon was the one to hire you. Gideon was the one to walk you through the building to his desk to introduce himself to you.

You don’t even blink. “Guess it’s a good thing you were polite to my mother, sir,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

Never mind the fact he already kissed you and the entire length of his body was pressed against yours.

“You two know each other?” Gideon asks, looking between the two of you.

“You could say that,” Aaron answers, but he’s only looking at you. There must be a glitch. Maybe Boston was a dream. No. You remember it, too.

“Not the CIA. Close enough, I suppose,” you grin.

“Sure,” he says softly... because he doesn’t know what to say. When he pulled your resume and your background check again he knew to expect you to walk through these doors at 9 am. A couple of hours still wasn’t enough time to prepare. You… were blindsided though.

“What aren’t you telling me, Hotch?” Gideon asks. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, not at all,” he says, but he’s still only looking at you. “Can I talk with you? In my office?”

You nod, following him, closing the door behind you, and leaning against it. “Don’t you think you should introduce me to the rest of the team?”

“Why didn’t you mention this?” he asks, standing in front of his desk.

“Why didn’t you? You had a million times to mention you worked for the FBI.”

“When I said CIA…”

“I thought you were being funny. I thought you were a traveling lecturer for like, science or something. I don’t know. The FBI, Aaron?”

“I could say the same for you. Jesus,” he whispers, stepping a little closer to you.

“It’s kind of funny we were out a whole night and it never came up,” you say, grinning.

“Jesus,” he mutters again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So what happens now?”

“I don’t know. We work, like adults, and we move on.”

“I don’t know, Aaron. I think someone doesn’t want us to move on,” you shrug. “I can’t sit in here all day. You have to introduce me to the rest of the team before they think I am fucking you.”

He glares at you. “These comments won’t be permitted with the rest of the team present.”

“Jesus. I know when to shut my mouth, Aaron. In private, they’re permissible though, right?”

“I truly don’t know how I’m going to work with you,” he says, trying not to laugh.

“Guess you must be glad you didn’t fuck me before,” you say. “Would’ve been really awkward.”

“Agent… drop it. I do have to introduce you to them. Let’s go.”

But your back is pressed against the door and you know it’s a risk to tease your fucking boss on your first day, but you can’t help yourself because he’s not just your boss, he’s Aaron. The man who held your heels and walked you back to your hotel room, who kissed you outside the door but wouldn’t let you take him inside with you, even though you felt how much he wanted you, too.

You don’t move.

“I need you to move from the door, Agent.”

“I’m ‘Agent’ now? How clinical. We’re still in private, Aaron.”

“If this is how you’re going to play it, I will have you fired.”

“Right,” you say. “Don’t think so.”

“Try me.”

“Is that a threat, Aaron?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters. But he’s only looking at your mouth.

“Just kiss me,” you say. “I know you want to. Probably been thinking about it all morning since you realized—"

You’re cut off by his mouth against yours. “Are you wearing lipstick?” he asks against your lips.

“No,” you answer, pulling him closer, tongue against tongue, hips against hips.

“That’s all you’re getting, Agent,” he says. “I expect you to be nothing but professional. That means no teasing, no mention of Boston, no mention that we know each other even if they ask. Noncommittal answers only.”

“Aaron, 'noncommittal' is my middle name,” you grin. “It’s you I’m more worried about. I seem especially talented at weakening that seemingly strong resolve.”

“It’s Hotch in front of the team. Go,” he nods at the door.

——————

“You did a good job with her,” Aaron says to you on the plane. “Liz. The victim.”

You smile, thanking him. “Used to work in a children’s psych hospital when I was doing my undergrad. Lots of child trauma there. Learned how to get to the root of their stories.”

“You’ll be a good addition.”

“You didn’t think so before?”

“I thought you were going to make me lose my mind,” he admits, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. Thankfully, it was an overnight flight. Everyone was asleep, save you two.

“I still might.”

Aaron nods, grinning, dimples on full display. “That you may.”

“What’s going to happen between us?”

“Nothing should.”

“I didn’t ask you what should. I asked you what is.”

“What do you want?”

You laugh. “I mean, Aaron, I’m the last girl to believe in fate, but that was a pretty big coincidence to ignore. And you keep kissing me whenever we’re alone.”

“You keep getting me alone,” he mutters, taking your hand and threading your fingers through his.

“Yeah, it’s my fault you can’t keep your hands or your mouth off me.”

“Shh,” he scolds.

“It’s true,” you say. “Anyway. You know what I want. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he admits. “But this is a precarious situation and I’m not risking my career just for sex.”

“Aaron. We aren’t going to get any bigger signs from the universe that we need to try this. I’m open to it. We can try this. For real.”

“You believe that? It was fate?”

You laugh. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Crazy coincidence, if nothing else.”

Aaron looks around suspiciously, kissing your mouth gently when he confirms no one is watching.

Which is nothing how he kisses you later in your new apartment, searing hot against your skin as his fingers circle your clit softly, leaving you to whimper against his mouth. You’re jet-lagged and overly full from breakfast when you landed but you’re wide awake and needy when it comes to him now.

“Aaron,” you whine. “Need you. Now.”

“You have me, honey,” he teases, leaning forward to lay you down on the bed, using the angle to fuck his fingers into you relentlessly. “Better?”

“Fuck,” you say, nodding.

“So wet for me, honey,” he coos at you. “Such a good girl.”

You know you’re embarrassingly close from his ministrations with his hands, so quick to get there from being so worked up since Boston, having to go a whole week hiding this secret, sneaking off into side rooms just to press his mouth and body against yours.

You still don’t expect it to rip through you like that until you’re left shaking and moaning his name. You don’t expect his cock to fill you even better, up to the hilt. You don’t expect him to flip you over so you’re on top, able to watch him blush and whimper from your teasing, telling him he’s fucking up into you so good.

You definitely don’t expect him to suggest round two and go down on you.

Then again. You didn’t expect the man you took to your brother‘s wedding on happenstance to be your fucking boss. That you’re fucking now. Apparently.

“How long do you think we can hide this from a room full of profilers, Aaron?”

“Shut up,” he says, laughing, kissing you, hair all mussed up, making him look deliciously freshly fucked. “You’re good at holding on and holding out.”

“You’re not.”

“Only when it comes to you, honey,” he says, pulling you into him.

“They’ll figure it out because of something you did,” you wager.

“I shouldn’t take that bet,” he says. “But I will.”

And sure enough. When you nearly got shot, and of course Aaron ran to your side, checking you for wounds, kissing the top of your head when he realized you were safe and okay…

Morgan was watching. And it spread through the team like wildfire. Naturally.

“How long?”

“Since Boston,” you answer.

“Wait…” Gideon chimes in.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Aaron says.

------

taglist: @mrs-ssa-hotch​

[separatist-apologist]

Traitors Never Win

Summary: When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement…including framing him for murder.

Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

In retrospect, the signs were all there. What were the odds the agent had the same name as her would-be fiance? Feyre hadn’t thought anything of it, even after she’d let him eat her out. It had been waking up at dawn, his arm draped over her, and a memory of Rhys jogging down the sidewalk after her weeks earlier.

He’d called her Feyre.

Not Sarah, like everyone–even Tamlin—did when they were in public. But Feyre. And for whatever reason, it had felt like a warning bell in her head that this man didn’t act very copish. He was chatty and didn’t seem overly concerned with rules. Casual in a way Tamlin never was. It was clear he had blood on his hands, but not in a sanctioned kind of way.

She just wanted to know. So Feyre had gone through his things until she found his laptop opened and unprotected…and the feed of his house running in the corner of his computer. She’d found the chats between himself and two people labeled only C and A documenting their progress keeping her sisters out of the loop while Rhys tracked her down.

She should have shot him. Feyre couldn’t stop thinking about it as they drove. He had her in handcuffs—because when he put her down in the driveway she’d slapped him so hard she’d busted his lip—and Feyre didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to take them off.

“You’re going to get caught,” Feyre taunted as Rhys drove, unconcerned and undeterred. 

His amusement annoyed her. “We’ll see,” was all he said in response. 

For a few hours, Feyre tried everything. She screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked at the dash until Rhys threatened to tie her up and throw her in the back. He sounded serious when he said it and Feyre believed he would do far worse if he felt like he had to. For a moment, she contemplated crashing the car and killing them both before she thought better of it.

With her luck, they’d both survive anyway. 

Feyre didn’t want to die. What she wanted was for all this to end in a way that made them all happy and so, as they began climbing into the mountains, Feyre decided a different tact.

“I’m sorry I framed you for my fathers murder,” she said, not sorry at all. It sounded petulant even to her ears.

Rhys arched a brow. “Liar.”

“You purchased me—”

“I purchased your fathers business,” Rhys interrupted, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the whites of his knuckles were showing. “How am I supposed to know if he told you or not? Most women in your position understand the life and the expectations that come with it.”

“No one ever asked if I wanted to marry you. Which I don’t, just so we’re clear,” Feyre told him, twisting her cuffed wrists resting in her lap. 

Rhys didn’t look moved. Still, Feyre had to keep trying.

“Look. What if I just—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Rhys agreed, turning on his wipers as fog and a thin drizzle began to wash over them. “I won’t agree not to marry you in exchange for your terms. The only way out of this—for both of us— is marriage.”

Anger flared through her all over again. “I’m not marrying you!”

“You will,” he replied with more of that arrogance. “Or you would have shot me.”

“Are those my only options?” she demanded.

“I know you have no problems with murder, my darling. It should have been easy for you and yet here I am, and here you are.”

“You’re insane.”

Rhys only shrugged, allowing the pair to lapse into silence. Feyre didn’t know what else to say to him that might change his mind and so, maybe it was better to just try and understand him. If she could future out what made him tick, she could figure out how to beat him. Everyone had a weakness and that included Rhys. 

“Have you been looking for me the entire time?”

“Yes,” he agreed, his shoulders still tight. 

“To kill me?”

A sly smile spread against his face. “Not even close.”

He was absurd. Feyre didn’t believe for one minute that he’d spent the last five years chasing her simply because he wanted to be with her. No, this was punishment somehow. 

Though…last night hadn’t felt like a punishment. That didn’t mean anything. Last night he’d been another federal agent who wanted to touch her and not…himself. 

“What are you going to do to me?” she finally asked. 

“The same thing we’ve been doing,” Rhys replied with easy finality. “I’m not going to kill you, Feyre.”

“But you won’t let me go?”

“Where would you run to? Your sisters? The life before? All of that is over,” he said, gripping the wheel tightly against the winding road. “There is nothing to go back to.”

“Except you?”

“I’m your future, baby,” he reminded her. A horrific future in which she sat quietly in their house while he continued to terrorize their city. A future in which she had no say, had to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Feyre could wait him out. How long before the feds realized she was missing? 

“I guess you haven’t been indicted, then?”

Rhys laughed, reminding Feyre that he was truly beautiful. Nothing at all like she’d imagined, with his dark hair and sculpted features. He looked very late twenties, early thirties—still young, still attractive and if the night before was any indication, virile. She’d been picturing someone her fathers age—old, and with a string of dead wives behind him.

Not that it made Rhys any less insane, of course. 

“No, Feyre. They can’t indict me because this is one crime I didn’t commit.”

“But Tamlin said—”

“That everything hinged on your testimony?” he guessed, glancing over at her. “Yes, I’ve heard that before. What happens, my little love, when you can’t keep this act up anymore?”

“It’s not an act,” Feyre replied.

“Perjury is a crime, too,” Rhys reminded her. 

“Who cares about lying?”

“The feds will care,” Rhys replied, reasonable as ever. “Especially when they can’t convict me because you’re a liar. They’re going to be pissed you squandered their best chance at taking me down and you’ll become their sacrificial lamb.”

“Let me guess. Unless I marry you?”

“Smart girl,” he praised. 

“I could recant—”

“Back to jail for murder,” Rhys reminded her. It was easy to forget Feyre had actually killed her father. Somehow she’d divorced it from her mind, the actions belonging to someone who most certainly was not her. Right then, though, Feyre could remember picking up the cool metal of the bat and taking a swing. Her father had been facing his computer rather than her—he hadn’t seen it coming. 

His head had bounced off his keyboard with a sickening crunch. She knew, right then, if she didn’t keep going that she would pay for what she’d done. Though Feyre hadn’t cared about being punished. It had felt good to have her retribution, to repay him for the years of neglect. 

When she came back to the moment she found Rhys watching her. “I remember my first kill, too.”

“Was it your father?”

Rhys’s smile was soft. “My uncle, actually.”

“Why?”

“Well, he made a play for my fathers seat—that’s my official story.”

“But the truth?” Feyre questioned.

“I love my cousin,” he said quietly, eyes darkening in memory. “And my uncle did not.”

Oh. 

“So you’re, what, a man with a code?”

Rhys shrugged again. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” 

But Feyre already knew the answer to that. Maybe that was what had compelled her to let him in without the usual protocol being adhered to. And last night…fuck. This was a kidnapping—she hated him.

And she was attracted to him. 

It made him more dangerous than he already, especially now that he knew they shared this in common. She’d seen him naked, and she’d liked it. Had let him flip her over the bed and fuck her throat like…like a whore. Feyre had wanted to do more with him, had been thinking about him naked even as she opened his laptop. 

She was thinking about it right then even as the cabin emerged from the fog. It was remote—that was her first thought. There was no one for miles and only one road that had branched from the main one miles back. It was becoming apparent that the only way in or out was in a car and if she wanted to escape, she’d need to get his keys.

A problem, considering he had her in handcuffs. But if she could trick him into freeing her…let him believe she cared about him and would willingly marry him, Feyre could get unrestrained long enough to incapacitate him and escape. She didn’t know where she’d escape to, but that was future Feyre’s problem. Getting far away from him was the first step, though. 

Rhys was ever the gentleman, opening her door and helping her out only for Feyre to jam her elbow in his gut. 

“I hate you,” she reminded him.

“As long as you feel something for me.”

“Disgust? Loathing?”

“Arousal,” he replied, hoisting her up in the air for no other reason than he apparently wanted to touch her ass. “I can practically smell it on you.”

“You’re disgusting,” she retorted, jamming her elbow into his neck. Rhys hissed, but didn’t drop her as he led her into the house. 

“I’ll be eating that pussy by the end of the week. You’ll beg for my tongue.”

“Maybe it’s you who will beg,” she replied, thinking about holding a knife to his throat.

“Almost certainly,” Rhys practically purred. “Welcome home, baby.”

He dropped her to the wood floor in a heap, chuckling as he made his way through the warm living room toward the kitchen. 

“This isn’t my home.”

“Well, no. Our home is far nicer and closer to restaurants. But this could be your home for the holidays. I’ll teach you to ski.”

“You’re crazy.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, a glass of scotch in his hand. “This only ends in one of two ways for you and me, baby. I figure it’s better to choose my way than yours.”

“Your way is marriage, which means mine is—”

“Death,” he said, his voice roughening. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, Feyre. You’ll leave with me as my wife or we won’t leave at all.”

“Because you’ll kill us both?” she accused.

“Because there are only so many places I can hide you before we’re found, and I’m not letting you go if we’re not married,” he bit back. 

And that was that. Feyre picked herself up off the floor so Rhys could offer her a drink, which she accepted, and a tour, which she had no choice but to participate in. The cabin was nice—four bedrooms plus Rhys’s office, a basement that looked decidedly haunted, and a hot tub out on the deck she had no interest in.

“Which room is mine?” she asked when he was finally done showing her the scope of her new prison. It was a stupid question and one Rhys answered with a broad grin. Her room was his room, and right then Feyre understood exactly how things were going to go down.

Or, she thought she did until she saw the outfits he’d brought out for her.

“This is see through,” she said, holding up the panels of fabric clearly meant to be some kind of outfit.

“Is it?” Rhys replied, clearly seeing her hand through the transparent fabric. 

“I’m not wearing it.”

“Even better,” she said with a grin before flopping to the bed. “That was my preference.”

Feyre tried to get into the bed wearing her jeans, but Rhys stopped her. “Pick.”

“You’re an animal,” she snapped, snatching the dress from the bed. “You can’t stockholm me into loving you.”

“You already love me,” Rhys informed her, so self assured that Feyre was momentarily taken aback. “You would have admitted it had you not found out who I am. I wonder where we’d be then, Feyre.”

“Hell,” she replied, stomach twisting at the thought, “because I would have killed us both.”

“It would be heaven, dying at your hands—”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, stalking for the attached bathroom. The sheer dress was exactly as bad as she’d imagined—she would have been better off naked. It was merely the illusion of privacy and what was worse was the knowledge that if she escaped, it would probably be in this. 

Feyre came back out to Rhys, arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her. Not when he was already so pleased with himself. She imagined Rhys thought he’d won—that he was about to get everything he wanted if he just waited a little longer.

Feyre held out her still cuffed wrists. “Please,” she forced herself to say. 

“Because you asked so nicely,” Rhys agreed, pulling the key from his pocket. It was a relief not to have the heavy, tight metal no longer twisting her delicate skin. Feyre forced herself into bed, trying desperately not to drink in the heady scent of him. Couldn’t he have been ugly, at least? His visual appeal didn’t help anything—Feyre couldn’t escape her attraction to him, which was muddling things, at least a little. 

She let him hold her until he fell asleep. Feyre feigned it, evening out her breathing and keeping her eyes closed. And for a little while, as she waited, Feyre tried to imagine a life like this. Would he always make her dress like a whore? Would she be another little trinket to him, a toy to amuse himself with before he discarded her for someone more interesting. For all her fathers flaws—and there were many—he was always faithful to their mother. But Feyre had grown up in the life and she knew that was the exception and not the rule.

Rhys was beautiful. She doubted she’d get that kind of fidelity from him. Deciding she wasn’t going to ask him any of her questions, Feyre instead slipped from his loosened grip, quickly pulled on her shoes, and began searching for car keys.

Feyre was jumpy—every creak, every rattle of the wind sent her crawling out of her skin until she couldn’t take it anymore. Stealing his coat, Feyre decided she’d take her chances and just make a run for it. 

The air was cold, seeping through Rhys’s warm jacket before the door was closed behind her. Feyre braced herself before taking the icy steps to the drive. His parked car taunted her and though it was tempting to damage the sleek, black body, Feyre didn’t have time.

She needed to put as much distance between herself and that man as she could before he woke up. Wishing she was stealthier, Feyre left the road for only a moment before realizing how slick and steep the sides were—she was likely to accidentally topple down an embankment and freeze to death.

She was likely to freeze to death anyway. There was no snow, no rain, but the wind was brutal and leftover liquid slipped into the cracks of her shoes until her feet were numb. The pure darkness around her did nothing to help. Every little sound was a predator coming to kill her. Feyre had assumed she could figure out her way back to the road, but after what felt like an eternity walking, she began to feel hopeless.

Scared, too.

What if she’d gone the wrong way and no one found her? Not even Rhys, who she knew would be out looking the minute he found her missing. Feyre took another step, slipping on a patch of unseen ice. Throwing her arms out to steady herself, she stumbled to the side and went tumbling to the side of the mountain they were on. Snow slipped through the openings in Rhys’s jacket and covered her face, muffling her panicked, desperate scream. 

Certain she was going to die, Feyre squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for freefall. Instead, her body slammed into the trunk of a pine tree, keeping her from going any further. She was trapped in a coffin made of ice and her lungs hurt every time she took a breath.

And still, she was alive.

Feyre swallowed, looking up at the swaying branches overhead. Okay. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. All she had to do was—

“Feyre?!”

“Rhys,” she breathed, strangely relieved to see him. The darkness was minutely illuminated by the headlights of his car, and when she squinted upward, she could see the dark outline of him peering down.

“Feyre?!” he yelled again and too late, Feyre realized he couldn’t see her. 

“Rhys!” she called in return, the effort making her cough. It was enough, though—she heard him swear loudly before turning back for the car. She was so, so fucked and she knew it. Right then, though, Rhys was her salvation as he carefully made his way down after her. 

“Are you trying to put me in an early grave?” he asked once he reached her. By then, Feyre’s teeth were chattering so violently she couldn’t speak. All she could do was press her frigid cheek to his warm chest when he lifted her into his arms. Somehow he managed to get her back up that hillside and into the passenger seat of his car. 

He was angry judging by the tight set of his jaw and how roughly he gripped the steering wheel. And Feyre, for her part, was too exhausted to even try and do damage control. She merely let Rhys do whatever he felt was necessary, which included stripping them both of their clothes and piling blankets on top of them. She didn’t protest, either, when she felt the length of his warm body pressed against her spine.

“Just breathe,” Rhys murmured into her hair. “You’ll survive this.”

Feyre fell asleep like that and when she woke, she was sweaty and thirsty, but she was alive. Alone, too, judging from the lack of Rhys beside her. There were no laid out clothes and when she went looking for the sheer dresses he’d picked up for her, she found nothing but his clothes. Deciding on one of his shirts, Feyre pulled a long, black tee over her head before making her way to the main area of the cabin.

Rhys was waiting in a pair of charcoal slacks and a buttoned up, violet shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was texting on his phone, brows furrowed. 

“Eat,” he said without looking at her, gesturing toward a plate of eggs. Was he really not mad? Feyre tried to think of something to say to him before deciding that really, this was his fault. He’d kidnapped her, after all—did he not expect her to try and escape him? She wasn’t going to apologize for trying. 

Feyre did as she was told while Rhys largely ignored her, staring down at his phone reading whatever had him so captivated. He took her plate when she finished, sliding it into the sink before gesturing with two fingers for her to stand.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice suggesting she do as he say. 

“Rhys—”

“You could have died,” he interrupted, his eyes burning with the same intensity as the stars in the sky. “You would have died if I’d woken any later. So get up, Feyre darling.”

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Get up, Feyre.”

“If you hurt me—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he snarled, clearly offended. She believed him, thinking back to the night before when he’d carried her back to bed without a word. He hadn’t even protested when her frigid back touched his skin and Feyre knew she would have made him suffer alone beneath blankets had the situation been reversed. 

“But you’re going to do something?” she asked. His eyes sparkled. 

“Turn around,” he instructed. Feyre did, only to hear the clicking of the handcuffs. 

“Rhys—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, running his hands over her shoulders. “I won’t have you hitting me in the face.”

“But I can kick you?” she challenged as he poked her toward the hall.

“You could try,” he replied in that good natured way of his. Rhys took Feyre to his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Feyre halted, barefoot on the soft rug, until Rhys poked her in the spine again.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward his chair behind his desk. It was awkward given this time her hands were cuffed behind her back. 

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson,” he murmured, eyeing her with appreciation. “I have a few calls I need to sit in on and I clearly can’t leave you alone while I work. So you’ll sit here with me and keep me company until I’m done.”

“You’d let me hear all your dirty secrets?” she taunted, her tone implying she would absolutely tell a federal agent if she escaped.

Rhys didn’t take the bait. “My wife ought to know where our money comes from.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he replied with a finality she didn’t bother arguing with. “Now spread your legs.”

“No.”

Rhys stared at her for a moment, head cocked like a predator assessing his prey. Feyre was certain she could outlast him, ignoring the bolt of arousal that had snaked up her spine the moment she realized what he wanted.

He wasn’t a serious man, she decided. He was wanted, on the run with a literal hostage and he wanted her to spread her legs? Not tie her up in his dungeon and withhold food or water until she broke…he wanted to eat her out.

The phone rang, causing them both to start. Rhys pressed a finger to his lips in a demand of silence, before pushing the speaker button. 

“Go,” he said in that dark, rich voice of his.

“Boss, there’s been some shit—”

Rhys muted himself, only half listening as he murmured, “Spread your legs, Feyre, or I’m going to sit you on my cock for the next three hours.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed as Rhys began to sink to his knees.

“Wouldn’t I?” he murmured, grabbing her knees and wrenching them open. She was wearing only a shirt—everything else was soaked from the night before and Rhys had obnoxiously not provided any undergarments. He could see everything…though she’d already shown him two nights before.

Rhys leaned behind him, pulling his phone closer so he could hit the button and say, “Where is he now?”

“Dead.”

“Good. Tell me the rest,” he replied, clearly paying attention to the conversation in a way Feyre wasn’t. Then he was muting himself once again, pushing her thigh wide, and lowering his head.

“Rhys—”

“Shhh,” he murmured again. “I’m working, my love.”

She couldn’t focus on anything—not even kicking him in the face. He was so ridiculous, so beautiful, and he was on his knees trailing kisses up one of her bare thighs.

“How many—” Feyre took a breath when she felt her lips graze her pussy. “How many laundromats do you own?”

“We own,” he replied, the idiot. “Just four. I prefer car washes, personally. There is a little more overhead but it’s easier to…well. Easier to operate, let's just say.”

“Oh,” she whispered, not responding to what he’d said at all. Rhys was teasing her, his tongue just barely touching her clit before darting away back for her thigh. She didn’t notice him reach behind him for the button, though she did hear him speak.

“Kill him.”

“Kill who?” she asked. Rhys merely licked at her again, perhaps hoping to distract her. It worked for a moment—Feyre arched her hips closer, wishing he’d just get on with it. 

“Needy,” he praised, dipping a finger into her slick pussy. “You’ll sit nicely in my lap.”

“Tell me who you want killed,” she repeated.

Rhys sucked at her, drawing a soft moan from her lips. “Hybern.”

“Who?”

“You don’t need to worry—”

“You said what was yours was mine,” she reminded him, twisting her lower half away from his mouth. She could punish him too it seemed, because Rhys looked up at her with frustration, a lock of his dark hair flopping into his eyes.

“A rival,” he finally said, easing her back in front of him. “Your fathers death opened a power vacuum I can’t close because the feds are always watching. He’s encroaching and I’m tired of it.”

“So you’ll kill him?” she questioned.

Rhys licked her again, toying with her. “I’d do worse if I could get away with it. Death is easy.”

“Is that the kind of man you are?”

Their eyes met. “Yes.”

Did that bother her? Strangely, she found it didn’t. Feyre let her knees fall wider and Rhys groaned as he pulled her closer to his face. 

“I should have done this last night,” he whispered, his breath warm against her pussy. “You wouldn’t have left.”

“I would have,” she lied, unsure if that was true or not. 

“It's my fault,” he murmured before taking yet another taste of her. “And I can’t forgive myself for any of it.”

She had the sense he wasn’t just talking about the night before. Feyre had always assumed Rhys must hate her—that he wanted her dead. He should have. Any reasonable person would. And yet right then, Rhys’s violet gaze found hers and she saw the anguish hiding just behind his cool amusement. 

She felt pity. That was a mistake, to empathize with this man. One minute she’d be reassuring him he’d done nothing wrong and the next she’d have a wedding band on her finger as she drove their children to soccer practice.

Feyre could feel it, that tug toward fate. For one moment, Feyre knew the future that stretched before her—but it wasn’t in her nature to accept things blindly. If she was going to be his wife, she’d run toward it kicking and screaming.

Later, she decided. The kicking could come after he finished licking her.

Though Rhys very quickly tired of his little game. Deciding he’d sufficiently worked her up, if the way she was writing against his face was any indication, Rhys stood, revealing his own erection pushed tight against his pants. 

She watched through half lidded eyes as he undid the button with his strong hands, admiring the veins snaking up his arms. 

Rhys kicked them off, revealing mountains crowned with stars over his knees. “I swore I’d never kneel before anyone,” Rhys told her, sliding a finger into the waistband of his briefs. “But I’d kneel for you, darling.”

“You’re pathetic,” she breathed, transfixed on his now freed cock. It was exactly how she remembered—thick and long, the size of him demanding she look at him. Touch him. Taste him. Feyre could still remember her desperation to take him in her mouth and the pleasure she’d felt when he’d come.

“Up,” he told her, ignoring her insults. Feyre didn’t budge, legs still draped over the arms of the chair. That was no problem for Rhys, though—he merely lifted her up and sat himself down against the leather while ignoring the damp spot she’d left behind. 

“Be my good girl,” he murmured against her neck. “Keep your legs open.” “Rhys—” “Open your legs, baby," he repeated in that soft, seductive voice of his.

She did, gasping when the blunt head of his cock stabbed her entrance. “Rhys,” she whispered, twisting in his lap as he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“You can take me,” he insisted, though Feyre didn’t think that was true. Rhys pushed her down just enough to take the first few inches while Feyre cried out, squeezing herself around him so tightly she didn’t think he could wedge the rest of him into her.

Behind her, Feyre could feel Rhys’s heart pounding through the shirt he still wore. “That’s a good girl,” he praised before sinking his teeth into her shoulder. “Take the rest.”

“It’s too much,” she whined, though in truth it was easier to adjust than she expected. Rhys must have felt her relax because he was back to impaling her with a few more inches, and then more still, until Feyre swore she could feel him in her lungs. 

“Now sit,” he said, swearing softly when she squeezed herself tight around him.

“Sit?”

“Keep my cock warm while I work,” he replied, scooting his chair forward. The rocking motion made them both moan, though once he was close enough to his computer, Rhys went still again. It was torture to just sit there, aroused and needy from his teasing tongue and yet when Feyre tried to grind herself against him, Rhys swatted at her exposed pussy lightly.

“Don’t move.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll fuck that bratty mouth until you can’t even whisper,” he replied. 

She wished, though she didn’t say. Feyre did try, too. She tried to sit still and pay attention to his conversations, the emails he wrote, the payroll software he used. She saw a message from his associate A—Azriel, she learned—and a long complaint about a woman named Gwyn who’d pointed a shotgun at his face and fired before he’d had a chance to say a word.

Rhys had chuckled when he read it, like the whole thing amused him.

But underneath it all, Feyre was distracted by his pulse hammering in his cock and the way his hand would occasionally drift up her thigh to tease her clit before dropping it again. She could never quite get comfortable, could never ease herself out of her desperate arousal. He kept her on edge while he himself did nothing except hold himself inside her.

How long could a man keep an erection, she wondered? How long could this man? Longer than most she supposed. Rhys took two more calls, leaning back so the angle changed and shifting just enough that Feyre had to swallow more than one whimper. His fingers teased and touched, feeling the place their bodies joined over and over. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

“Rhys,” she whispered when the call ended, twisting in his lap. “Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he admitted, arching his neck. “I need to fuck you.”

“Rhys,” she warned, but he was too quick. Shoving aside the things on his desk so his phone and mouse and keyboard all clattered to the floor, Rhys had her lying against the wood with his cock still buried inside her.

He pushed up her shirt, exposing her breasts before slowly pulling himself out. Feyre tried to arch up, forcing him out of her entirely, but Rhys was more  practiced than most men. He didn’t flinch, slamming himself to the hilt back inside her body.

“Sneaky,” he praised. “I should spank you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she panted, arousal sparking bright and hot. 

“I would dare,” he disagreed, wrapping one of his broad hands loosely around her throat. “The things I want to do to you…”

Maybe she didn’t want him to finish that sentence. She wanted to know about his fantasies, though. Rhys was so liberal with his praise, his thoughts, his desires. After years with Tamlin, it was strange to get an answer to her questions. Tamlin kept it all to himself—even asking him how he’d enjoyed the sex only ever earned her a murmured, “it was good.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” Rhys whispered, thrusting again. “So tight.”

Feyre couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her, arching into him as he brought himself lower. Rhys’s teeth grazed her throat, pressing a sucking, bruising kiss against her throat. 

“You’re mine,” he told her, his next thrust punishing in its intensity. “Say it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

His grip on her throat tightened. “Say it,” he warned, restricting her air just enough to make her want him more. She wished he’d just shut up and kiss her.

Feyre tried to turn her face but Rhys squeezed tighter still, hips pistoning into her with an unrelenting intensity. Feyre was drowning in pleasure and Rhys must have been able to feel it. His other hand was between her legs, teasing and touching her swollen clit until Feyre was clenching her teeth, desperate to stave off her orgasm. 

“Say it!”

Feyre came so violently she felt her spine crack as she arched off the desk. “You’re mine,” she heard herself babbling, forgetting what, exactly, he wanted to hear. Rhys groaned, his own rhythm stuttering before he pushed deeper and deeper, all but rutting into her as he chased his own pleasure.

She swore she felt him come, though maybe it was just the illusion of it. She certain felt the wetness of his come slip from her body as Rhys held himself still, chest heaving.

“I am yours,” he swore, his voice soft and low. “I always have been. I’ve been waiting for you—all five years with no one but you.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered with too much affection. His was merely the afterglow of her orgasm that made her soft and sweet. 

Rhys withdrew himself, fingers pushing his own spend back into her body. What did Feyre care? She was on birth control, determined not to have a child until the whole ordeal was over. If she even wanted children—she’d never been certain of that.

So lost in her thoughts, Feyre didn’t notice Rhys sinking back to his knees. Not until he pulled her to the edge of his desk.

“The day isn’t over,” he said, sliding his fingers through the mess. “And neither am I.”

Feyre merely laid her head back. 

Good.

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

Sex With Spencer Reid All Seasons (season 8)

If you are under the age of 18, please do not read this story. Thank you.

This will cover what I believe sex would be like with Spencer Reid from season 1 to 15. Warning contains adult situations, Sex. Dirty talk, Orgasms, Crying, Spoilers for all seasons and Spencer Reid being a sex God.

Also includes fingering and oral sex. (Female receiving only.)

These are a little bit longer than I anticipated them to be because I wanted to give a back story as to why the sex is the way that it is for each season. To give it in depth feeling of why Spencer was the way that he was in bed that season.  So I will be posting them by each season rather than all at once. I hope this gives you something to look forward to, and please leave comments,  I will be leaving links to the next season below.

You are a new agent at the BAU and Spencer Reid's girlfriend, the one who takes his virginity and has sex with him for all 15 seasons and beyond.

Spencer Reid knew the first time he saw you walk through the doors of the BAU that you were the one that he was going to love forever. The first time you smiled, he knew it was the only smile that he ever wanted to wake up to. The first time he touched your hand, he knew yours was the only hand he ever wanted to hold. The first time he kissed you, he knew your lips were the only ones that he ever wanted to have pressed against his own. and the first time he made love to you, he knew you were the only one he ever wanted to do this with, and he also knew he would never be the same you or his life now, his love and his only desire.

season 8

In season eight we meet Maeve Donovan. In this scenario though Spencer feels no romantic feelings for her. He just wants to help her as if she was any other victim.

You were so glad that Spencer was finally getting help with his headaches. While you did your best to help him with them, you knew that he needed someone who could do more. You were 

happy when he found Maeve Donovan. Not only did she help him, but it was also nice that he had a friend that shared the same interest in books as he did. While you really enjoyed him 

reading to you in bed, you weren't as much of A reader as Spencer.

And now that Spencer's head has stopped hurting, the sex has become even more often. He loves running his hands up and down your thighs as he makes love to you.

He also enjoys putting his hand in yours as he thrusts. Interlacing your fingers together as he whispers sweet loving words in your ear is something that you both really cherish.

And you are also planning your upcoming wedding, something that seems to turn Spencer on every time you ask him something about it.

Such as today, you simply asked what flavor wedding cake should we have? Vanilla. Chocolate. Funfetti. Red Velvet? and he simply could not keep his hands off of you after that question, and before you knew it, Spencer had you in bed moaning his name. He loves the idea of you being his future wife.

He even sometimes tells you when he's in bed how he can't believe that Someone Like You would ever be interested in him. You're the love of his life and the only one that he ever wants to have in bed with him.

you are so happy that he found Maeve in fact you asked him if she would like to come to the wedding, since after all she did help your fiancé get over his headaches.

however You couldn't help but notice that the last time he talked to Maeve, he seemed a little bit upset. Not responding to your touch or sexy lingerie the way he usually does. You had just bought a new lingerie set today. When he was talking to Maeve it was black and had a little pink bow on the underwear in the middle of the bra.

You were crushed to say the least. So you asked Spencer if he was OK. What happened? Beginning to think maybe he was more interested in Maeve Donovan Than he was in you.

You asked him if he was OK and he told you about Maeve's Stalker. All he wants to do is help his friend, but she doesn't want him to. He explained that now he was going to have to talk to her 

from pay phones so that her stalker couldn't connect him back to her, something that would have been really suspicious to a less trusting woman. But you trusted Spencer with your life.

It wasn't until Spencer didn't hear from Mave for a few days that he began to worry. He enlisted the BAU to help him find her, and sadly she was murdered in front of him.

Understandably so Spencer was so upset by this and traumatized that sex stopped for a few weeks. You completely understood that and tried everything that you could to cheer him up.

Penelope and JJ stopping by every day to check on Spencer, you know meant a lot to him. Even though he didn't open up the door. You went outside and gathered the baskets that Penelope had lovingly left. Filled with nuts and seeds to provide melatonin to try to make Spencer happy, Penelope went all read like she told JJ and did research to find something that would make Spencer happy.

That was until the team was called away on a case that meant that you had to go but Spencer was staying behind. Penelope's baskets continued to come over the next couple of days that you were on a case.

Feeling horrible about having to leave your fiancé behind, you knew that he understood that was the job. You checked in on him as often as you could, to no avail since he would not answer to anyone. not even you This crushed you and broke your heart into a million pieces. That your fiancée, the man that you love with all your heart, couldn't even answer the phone to you.

But you realize quickly that you shouldn't take it to heart, given the fact that he wasn't answering to anyone, no matter how many times they called him.

That was until the time that Morgan called him for help on the case, that he answered his phone. He had Anderson bring him some files on the case and before you knew it you're beautiful, loving fiancé was in the police station with you.

Wearing his slightly tattered bathrobe. But you understood and was just happy to see him.

You kissed him and wanted to stay with him and hold him in your arms, but Hotch told you that you needed to go with the rest of the team and catch the unsub. A man who was draining victims of their blood so that he could paint with the blood. You managed to save his last victim.

The art dealer who did not want to buy his blood art. You were very happy that you were able to save the woman's life, but their main concern was getting back to Spencer.

On the jet ride back, you sat next to Spencer and held his hand the whole time. Morgan and JJ came over to talk to him and they asked if there was anything that they could do to help.

After that day, Morgan, Penelope and JJ came back home with you and Spencer and helped clean up the apartment that he had trashed since you left. After that day he seemed to be feeling a lot better.

He even walked you to your bedroom and slowly undressed you with sadness in his eyes of how he has neglected you over the past three weeks. He feels horrible about it, but you tell him you understand.

The passion had officially returned with Spencer. He made love to you so sweetly that night and told you multiple times how much you loved you and how glad he is to have you. He cuddled. 

You tight in his arms at night Talking about your upcoming wedding, he finally picked a flavor of cake. He said chocolate because that's his favorite flavor. Not exactly your favorite, but you do anything for Spencer.

He also helped you decide what color the bridesmaid's dresses should be and where the wedding should take place. Rossi of course offered for the wedding to take place at his mansion, so you took him up on his offer.

After all JJ had her wedding there a year before. After discussing all of this about your wedding, he couldn't keep his hands off you again. Oh yes Spencer Reid was officially back.

Please let me know what you thought of this story, i love to hear from my readers 💗

masterlist

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

Misplaced Super Train is absolutely AMAZING and is for some reason scratching a bit of my brain so if you don't mind I had some possible thoughts that could maybe be incorperated for like. AU World Building, if that's alright

what if the Super Train "Clan" end up building their camp around the ruins of the battle train, both for the easy shelter it offers but also to keep any other people from poking around and finding Future Stuff

bouncing back and forth between teaching Ingo about who they are and where they came from but also stuff about Hisui and trying to differentiate the two so his "past" and "future" knowledge won't get muddled

the STC's giving the other Clan's/Galaxy Team a HEART ATTACK with just how calm and relaxed they are with their pokemon becuase they've all seen how strong they are

they do bond with Laventon tho since he's very interested in all these new, seemingly domesticated pokemon as well as how powerful they are

I was actually going on the assumption that their camp is where their totaled train is! I still don't know where exactly I'd want them to crash at, I don't want them in either Pearl or Diamond territory, and I don't want them near Jubilife Village. So it just leaves the coastlands and the highlands, I think. And, if Ingo still becomes Lady Sneasler's warden, it makes more sense for the train to have crashed in the highlands.

So I suppose they're, like, the new official Highlands Clan. On account of the fact that they can't live anywhere else. They don't know how to build tents. Have to stick with the train cars.

(Okay I guess I now know where I want them to crash at.)

As for teaching Ingo, he may be able to understand what these people are saying, but despite knowing he has a brother and a family and works with trains etc, he doesn't remember any of it. It becomes clear to the depot agents that telling him these things aren't actually helping his memory at all, just forcing him to feel pressured into remembering, so they stop trying altogether. They'll tell Ingo things if he asks, but otherwise, they're not going to try and force remembrance of certain things anymore.

Akari's own amnesia and the fact that she has no expectations of Ingo or knew him previously is actually part of the reason why Ingo is so comfortable with her, and why he finds it so much easier to remember things around her.

Anyways, I don't think the clans are all too alarmed by being close to Pokémon so much as the Galaxy Team are, honestly speaking. I mean, they all seem to have Pokémon partners? I think it's more normal for the clans than the Galaxy Team, but understandably EVERYONE is very wary of the fact that their Pokémon are just. So insanely strong in comparison to everyone else. Because these crazy people battle for FUN. Nobody else does that! Battling is for survival, judging someone's character, asserting authority, or proving a point. It is NOT for enjoyment!

Every time a Clan or Galaxy Team member passes by them while they're battling, they sort of just skirt the edge and stare wide-eyed at them like they're absolutely insane. Because by native standards, they are.

As for Laventon, he's literally the kind of guy to just run up to a stranger and start a conversation, so I imagine he does actually get along with the depot agents and Ingo quite well. Even if he does ask enough questions to remind them all of reporters.

[zaewriteshere]

Confused Hatred

AO3 Link

Gekko didn’t understand why you hated his little homies.

Most importantly, he couldn’t understand why his little friends wanted so desperately to be liked by you.

He just couldn’t understand you.

And he hated it.

He hated you by extension, too.

---

When Gekko woke up, he felt refreshed and in an amazing mood.

Today was going to be a good day.

He gently woke up and greeted his little homies, sensing that they, too, were in a positive vibe.

He felt like hardly anything could ruin his day.

He exited his room, immediately going for the kitchen to fix himself a latte, happily greeting Cypher while passing by.

“Well, you seem to be in a good mood,” He observed, a smile in his voice.

“Yeah ! I just woke up, too, so the vibes are just perfect right now,” He answered, nodding enthusiastically as he poured his beverage in his cup.

“Glad to hear it, young friend,” The sentinel said, nodding as well.

His critters noticed something, and suddenly grew more agitated. Wingman almost fell off the counter he was sitting on out of pure excitement.

The initiator caught him just in time, however. 

Turning to see the source of the ruckus, he immediately saw you.

Just like that, his bright smile faded away.

You were looking at him and his friends with such disdain and disgust… 

It made his blood boil.

Dizzy slowly flew over to you, trying to appear friendly.

Noticing her, your disgust visibly grew and you took a step back.

She wasn't going to abandon just like that, however, continuing to make her way towards your face.

“If you don't stop that thing right now Gekko, I will swat it away,” You warned, glaring at the poor little homie. 

At least you were nice enough to warn him… 

Gently taking her into his hands, it was his turn to glare at you.

Silently, you held his gaze, as if challenging him, daring him to say anything. 

“What the fuck is your problem ?” He questioned, frowning. 

He felt rage building inside his chest, hot and almost painful.

“I could ask you the same question. Deadlock has already said that those… Things were better off in a cage. Letting them roam free is a safety hazard for everyone,” You replied coolly, your eyes sharp. 

Staring through him and into his soul.

It both freaked him out and made him even angrier. 

“They haven't hurt anyone !” He almost shouted, bringing Dizzy – who he was still holding – closer to his chest protectively. 

“Yet,” You continued, as if you were an oracle and could tell the future. 

Hell, hardly anyone was aware what you were capable of, for all he knew…

He shook his head.

Gekko was giving you way too much credit.

And he wasn't about to ruin his amazing day talking to you. 

Grabbing his now finished drink, he turned away from you to face his little friends.

He could sense their curiosity and pure want to befriend you.

It almost overwhelmed him.

If he wasn't already used to it, he would've been, if he were honest.

“C'mon little homies, let's go somewhere peaceful,” He announced, and he felt their disappointment.

You chuckled, dry and hollow. 

He felt his cheeks grow hotter due to how much anger he was feeling.

“You do know that nowhere will be “peaceful” with them around, right ?” You questioned, nonchalantly. 

He decided for his own good to ignore you, already walking away.

How the initiator allowed you to have that much influence on him was beyond his comprehension. 

Slowly sipping his drink, he watched over Iso and Jett playing with his little friends in the lounge fondly. 

Why couldn't you just…

He sighed, frustrated, while shaking his head. 

He should seriously stop thinking about you.

Maybe he should go for a walk, perhaps that'll clear his mind. 

He waited a bit, not wanting to ruin his homies’ fun. 

But they all knew him too well, and slowly left the two Asian agents to be by his side. 

Mosh was the last one to hop over. 

“Let's go for a walk !” He offered happily. 

They all cheered.

After all, it wasn't often they could explore the garden and by extension the forest, Gekko being too afraid of them getting lost or eating something they shouldn't have.

He didn't know them as much as he'd like, and he hated that.

What if one fell sick ?

… Or worse ?

He shook those thoughts away.

They had two healers that loved his little friends very much and would do anything for them.

They weren't the only ones feeling that way, too.

Now in a better headspace once again, he went outside, his friends following him close by. 

He looked around, admiring the scenery and the peacefulness of nature, following the path towards the garden, which was being taken care of by both Skye and Omen.

He didn’t expect to see anybody there other than those two.

Instead of literally anybody else, he saw you. 

He almost groaned in discontent, but then he saw the expression you were wearing.

You didn’t even have your eyes open as you simply listened to the world around you, content.

He noticed a bunny hopping next to you, and some birds curiously observing you very closely.

Even if he hated your guts, he admitted that this scene was…

Peaceful.

Pretty.

When you opened your eyes, he fully expected you to shoo away the animals around you, but instead…

You gently smiled at them, offering them a tiny bit of your food.

He truly couldn’t understand you.

What was so different between his critters and regular animals ?

He could argue that his little homies were more likeable than any animal, since he could at least communicate with them.

Sighing softly, he was turning around when he accidentally stepped on a dry twig that snapped rather loudly…

… Spooking every animal nearby in the process.

He winced, not uttering a single word.

He started making a step away from the whole scene, away from you, but your voice made him stop dead in his tracks. 

“Hey,” You spoke up, coldly. “You could at least apologise…” You continued, your tone dry. 

Right.

“Sorry about that,” He apologised, not turning to you. 

“So on top of being a freak lover, you’re a freak yourself ? Just watching people silently while they’re having a nice time outside ?” You spat, clearly unhappy. 

“My homies aren’t freaks !” He exclaimed, whipping his body around to face you. 

“So you aren’t denying the other claims ?” You retorted without missing a beat.

“Insult me all you want, but do not come for my friends,” He hissed, using his body to block your view of his little homies. 

It was Thrash’s turn to try to get close to you, and she floated her way happily and curiously.

Gekko realised that she was attempting to mimic the movements of a bunny.

He would’ve cooed if this action weren’t to have your good graces, out of everybody’s. 

“Get that thing away from me while you’re at it,” You ordered, shifting away from her path.

“I don’t get why you don’t like them and yet like animals,” He muttered, kneeling to get Thrash’s attention.

“Those aren’t animals, that’s why,” You replied as if it was obviously why. 

The initiator only scoffed in answer.

He received a notification from his phone.

It was from Brimstone, telling him he was on the mission in the evening.

He smiled, that would mean that he would get away from you for a bit-

“Huh, it seems like I’m on mission duty for tonight…” You mumbled, thoughtful.

He groaned.

The mission brief was simple ; get to Icebox, prevent the Valorant Legion from planting to spike – or diffuse it if they do get it down – and go home.

As to why they needed both him and you on the same mission…

Well, even if it was explained to him multiple times, he still didn’t get it.

… But he also knew that what you were capable of was unknown to him, and since it was the best team composition for this plan…

He sighed.

He felt his critters being agitated, since he was forced to sit right next to you.

He didn’t like being close to you.

It always made him feel… Weird.

He knew why, though.

He still didn’t like the reason at all.

But he remained silent about it.

He didn’t want to let you of all people know how much you influenced his mood.

Or even how he truly felt about you.

He already knew the answer to his question, after all.

Before he realised it, they arrived at Icebox.

Being one of the first to step out of the Falcon, he turned to Sage, the assigned team leader for this mission.

“So… Game plan ? What are you feeling, Sage ?” He asked, trying to sound as jovial as normal.

He wasn’t really feeling it, but at least he could try, right ?

She immediately turned to you.

“Can you hold B site with Gekko ?” She gently questioned, and you met eyes with him.

After holding gazes for a moment, you had a small sigh.

“Sure,” You caved, tearing your gaze away from him.

Stepping out of the aircraft, your cheeks and nose immediately turning a light pink.

He looked away.

He wasn’t looking forward to this mission.

It has now been a few hours since they arrived, the sun long gone and temperatures dropping way below zero.

He had to admit, he was freezing. He thought he’d be fine with just a couple of layers, but the cold was really biting, and he was struggling to hold both his weapon and keep his face warm. 

He glanced at you.

You didn’t seem to be having any problems at all. 

Steadily holding your angle by Yellow, you didn’t even seem phased by the freezing cold air.

“Hold your angle instead of looking at me,” You said, not tearing your eyes away from Main.

Right, he needed to hold Mid and Tube.

Looking away, he readjusted his grip on his Bulldog. 

He was losing the feeling of the tip of his fingers.

“Hey, any updates ?” He questioned into the quiet comm link.

He hated how shaky his voice sounded

“Not yet, however they should be attacking soon,” Answered Sage, her tone even.

He sighed.

“How soon is soon, anywa-” He was cut off by gunshots. “Nevermind,” He continued, immediately running towards you.

“Stay in your position, I got it,” You immediately said when you realised what he was doing.

You managed to put one down, but not without receiving a bullet or two yourself.

He heard footsteps behind him. 

Pulling out Dizzy, he threw her out to blind his attackers while getting to cover.

He counted two blinds.

“Someone’s here, too !” He semi-shouted into the comms.

“We are on our way,” Said Neon as he could hear the familiar noise of her running. 

She should be here within a couple seconds, then.

As if on cue, Gekko heard her electrified footsteps by Snowman. 

Looking over to where you were at, he was surprised to see that you were struggling.

“I’m going to try to get out of this position, cover me if you can,” You announced between two shots.

Wingman immediately went out of his bag and ran towards the enemy he saw, making them look at him instead of you, giving you enough time to run away towards Gekko.

“Can you cover me while I get Dizzy ?” He asked in the heat of the moment.

He didn’t know what he expected from his request.

A refusal, an insult, anything but…

“Sure,” You said, not looking at him.

He was too distracted by the fact that you accepted to realise that you were already shooting to cover him.

It wasn’t until you shouted at him to get his ass moving that he went back to earth, running towards Dizzy’s bubble and picking her up. 

He dashed back into cover, only sustaining a couple of light injuries. 

Soon enough, Thrash felt ready to be thrown onto the field.

He barely registered what happened next, everything going so fast.

One minute, he was holding Thrash in his palm, the next, she was diving in front of you to take a swarm of bullets that would’ve definitely killed you and turned into her bubble form.

Somehow too stunned to move and to kill the enemy in front of you, the initiator decided to take him down in your stead.

There was no way he would let Thrash’s sacrifice go in vain. 

The rest of the gunfight went by. 

Bit by bit, the enemy numbers went down, until the last body hit the ground as you shot the mirror agent in the head. 

Everybody relaxed and let their guard down as Gekko went around the site to pick up his little homies.

He was exhausted, and he could tell it was the case for the others, too.

When his eyes landed on you, you had an unreadable look on your face as you stared at the body of the Omega Earth agent that almost killed you if Thrash didn’t act that fast. 

He wondered what was going through your mind. 

Your eyes met. 

He held your gaze, unwavering, as he sat up from his kneeling position.

He shivered. 

He really should’ve brought an extra coat…

The initiator looked away, already starting to walk towards the Falcon, when he heard another pair of footsteps behind him.

Knowing it was you, he paid it no mind.

He froze when he felt a soft and warm extra layer on his shoulder.

Turning to you, bewildered, he saw how close your two faces were.

Your breaths were merging into one.

You looked away, taking a step back, looking almost… Embarrassed ?

“If you go hypothermic now, Sage will spend too much time with you and neglect everybody else,” You simply justified, walking away as your cheeks got visibly redder. 

He decided to blame it on the cold, feeling his own face growing hotter, too.

A few days had passed since that mission, and Gekko could tell you wanted to say something to him.

Every time he was alone, you were looking at him expectantly, sometimes even daring to take a few steps towards him before… 

Turning away once your eyes locked in with each other.

He sighed.

You were starting to bug him, if he was honest.

He didn’t mind the distance you took from him, by all means.

… Was it weird that he sorta, just maybe missed the banter ?

…

Probably.

He sighed, frustrated.

He was just chilling on his bed in his room, staring at the ceiling while the little critters were either sleeping or quietly chilling.

What was he going to do with you ?

Should he continue this cycle of hatred that has been going on for months now, or should he attempt for what felt like the umpteenth time to be the bigger person ?

A soft, gentle – almost shy – knock brought him back to earth as well as catching the attention of Wingman and Mosh, the only two still awake.

He didn’t recognise the pattern.

“Come in,” He invited, expecting someone like Sage to enter.

He froze when he saw you, however.

You were wearing one of your gigantic oversized hoodies, definitely too big for your form, hands deep in your pockets. 

Wingman immediately ran to greet you, and you tensed, your expression – previously timid and almost apologetic – quickly changing to surprise and wariness. 

“Wingman, c’mere. We talked about this,” He recalled the little guy, who for once, listened to him. 

You visibly relaxed once he was back at an acceptable distance.

You closed the door behind you.

He guessed you were finally going to commit to what you were attempting to say for the last few days.

Your eyes landed on Thrash.

“How is it ?” You asked almost too quietly for him to hear. 

“She’s doing fine, no thanks to you,” He answered coolly, studying you. 

Your expression didn’t change as you slowly shifted your eyes from Thrash’s sleeping form to Dizzy’s, then to Wingman and finally… Mosh.

It was as if you were trying to see something.

Whatever you were attempting to find, you didn’t manage to, and you frowned. 

“What’s up ?” He questioned, squinting.

He almost got up from his bed to shield them away from your sight.

There was always something with your eyes.

As if you were able to stare into someone’s….

He didn’t know.

But you could see something, and not knowing what made him uneasy.

He heard rumours about your touch, too.

Always brief, always accidental.

But for a short moment, they felt more aware, almost opening a third eye into the future.

“Did I ever tell you why I didn’t like you and your things ?” Your voice brought him back from his thoughts.

He took some time to attempt to remember the reason why, but…

You both started off rather well, but as soon as you met the homies, you had immediately shutted down and started the hating cycle. 

“Nah, you never told anybody, or I would know,” He said confidently.

You chuckled.

“A handful of people know, but I asked them to not tell you,” You replied, shifting your weight.

“... Why ?” He questioned, visibly and audibly confused. 

“I’m going to tell you now,” You reassured, then sighed. “Don’t freak out, but when I lock eyes with people… I become more aware of them. It’s hard to explain, but I can understand them on a deeper level, know their fears and hopes, hell, even their past sometimes for example,” You explained, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Why… 

Why were you telling him this ?

“It’s universal for every living thing, radiant or not. But…” You locked eyes with Wingman. “When I look into your things, I don’t see anything. I can’t sense anything, it’s just… Void,” You finally said, rubbing your elbow. 

“And that’s why you don’t like them ?” He asked, still confused but… He started to understand.

“Basically,” You sighed. “It just, it freaks me out, man. I don’t wanna find out what happens when I touch them, so I always try to avoid it if I can. So far, I’ve succeeded,” You continued, looking at the floor. 

“That explains for the little homies but… Why don’t you like me ?” He enquired, fearing the answer.

“That’s ‘cause I can’t figure you out. I genuinely can’t tell if you wanna gut me or fuck me or even if you hate or love me… Hurts my head, sometimes,” You replied honestly, still not looking at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He denied, feeling his face and ears grow hot.

“Totally not why you’re blushing, too, huh ?” You replied, amused.

He looked at you, and your eyes met.

He remembered what you said earlier, but he knew it was too late.

If you didn’t know before, you certainly knew now. 

“You actually love me,” You announced out loud, surprise clear on your face.

He didn’t say anything, bracing for the impact of rejection. 

“Here I thought I was alone in this,” You muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

“Huh ?” He intelligently said.

“I love you too, dumbass,” You announced, louder this time.

That was…

“Wild,” He instinctively said, which made you chuckle.

“Indeed,” You confirmed, relaxing.

Sure, everything wasn’t perfect yet, but now that the air was cleared up…

Gekko finally felt like he had a chance with you.

What was he saying, of course he had one.

He was just glad that it wasn’t going to be toxic.

That you were actually trying in this relationship, too.

[happygirl2oo2]

Every reference I could find to Fitz's love of monkeys in Marvel's Agents of Shield, organized by episode numbers

According to this article, Fitz's love for monkeys comes from Iain de Caestecker's love for monkeys. The actor joked in season one about wanting a monkey sidekick for Fitz and it made it into the show's story. Fitz even has monkey figurines on his desk in early seasons.

season 1 episode 2:

FITZ: “I would love to see a capuchin in the wild. Maybe even a yellow-tailed woolly monkey. You know, um, Peru has 32 different species of monkey.”

season 1 episode 3:

FITZ: “If we had a monkey, we could get in.” SIMMONS: “Ugh, Fitz!” FITZ: “If we had a small monkey, he could slip through the sensors and disable the fence's power source with his adorable little hands.”

and

FITZ: “Did you hear the deadly lasers part? Without a brave monkey—”

season 1 episode 8: 

FITZ: “Still, this is definitely the type of work a monkey could easily do.” WARD: “You're our little monkey.”

season 1 episode 16:

MAY: “What's this?" FITZ: "Um, say you need to tag a fleeing vehicle... or a wild monkey, if it was to get away from you.”

season 1 episode 22:

SIMMONS: “That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle" *breathes deeply* "will go on to be a part of something else, maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova 10 billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing ... a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth.” FITZ, softly: “A monkey.” SIMMONS, also softly, accepting: “A monkey.”

season 2 episode 14:

Daisy: "Okay. But why am I suddenly feeling like old yeller right now?" Coulson: "Kind of surprised you know the reference." Daisy: "I've had a lot of downtime lately. That and Fitz really wants a dog." Coulson: "Thought he wanted a monkey." Daisy: "Guess he readjusted his expectations."

season 2 episode 16:

*When Fitz is packing up his stuff to leave, his three-monkeys statue is the first thing he's seen grabbing*

season 3 episode 21:

*When Fitz is getting ready for the broadcast with Talbot, he's making monkey noises as his vocals warm-up*

season 4 episode 3:

FITZ (counting his breath): “One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee. One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee.”

season 5 episode 5:

*Fitz is shown drawing monkeys on his cell's wall as a way to mark the passing of time while being there, instead of the regular line-markings that are usually used for that*

season 5 episode 16 (as Bobo is a common monkey name):

Jemma: "I was hoping you could tell me more about our future." Deke: "I mean, you saw it... It sucked." Jemma: "No, I mean Fitz and me. Do you recall any evidence of major injury, any noticeable scarring, perhaps?" Deke: "I don't remember you guys at all. I didn't even know your real names. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. changed them when they were getting hunted down. I just knew you as Nana and Bobo."

season 5 episode 21:

*when Simmons is packing up Fitz's things into the suitcase, his monkey statue from the earlier seasons can be seen among the things already in the suitcase*

season 6 episode 3:

SIMMONS: “Expecto Patronum! [a small hallucination of Fitz in a monkey suit appears on her straw] Hello, little monkey Fitz.”

season 6 episode 6:

*while in the memory of the night they first became friends, after Simmons tells Fitz she also remembers "how manic you were and thinking that genius is just a tick away from madness", the wall is seen suddenly covered in drawings of monkeys in the same way Fitz did to the wall in his cell in season 5 episode 5*

season 6 episode 8:

SIMMONS (about the events of s6ep3): "I saw you in a monkey outfit dancing." FITZ: "No, no, reverse on that bit, what do you mean you saw me in a monkey outfit dancing?"

season 7 episode 13:

*When Alya gets up from her bed in the pod to hug her mom, a few monkey dolls can be seen at the edge of her bed*

and

FITZ (about Alya): “This little monkey is punching me as hard as she can in the leg.”