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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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shotoh · 2 years

Text

all mine

SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language

author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all

The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.

“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.

“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.

The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”

Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.

A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.

She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.

One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.

If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.

Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”

Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.

“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”

“But–”

“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.

“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”

Man, what an annoying woman.

Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.

His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.

“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.

But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.

Besides...

“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”

His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”

He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.

You.

“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.

After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.

While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.

The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.

Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.

Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.

You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.

The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.

Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.

Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.

Fuckin’ hell.

The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.

In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.

Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”

The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.

His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.

Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.

“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.

The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”

He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.

Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”

He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.

Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.

He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.

“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”

The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.

Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.

The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.

He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.

“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.

Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”

“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.

Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”

“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”

“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.

“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”

“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”

Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.

Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?

To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.

Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.

“You free tomorrow?”

“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”

“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.

Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”

“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.

With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.

“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.

“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”

Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.

The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.

Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.

Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.

Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.

While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.

“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”

You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.

“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.

You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.

She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.

“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”

It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.

You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.

You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.

“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.

With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.

I thought I covered that…

You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.

You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.

You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.

Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”

She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”

You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?

You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.

The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.

“Heya, Katsu–”

“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.

You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.

He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”

“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.

“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.

“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.

“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”

Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”

Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.

“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.

After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”

“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.

“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.

Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”

“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”

“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.

“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.

As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”

You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.

The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.

You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.

“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”

It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.

In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.

You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.

“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.

“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.

“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”

“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.

A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.

Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.

“You did well, princess.”

His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.

God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.

Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.

While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.

The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.

“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.

“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”

Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”

“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”

A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.

“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”

Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.

“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.

In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.

Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”

“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.

“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.

He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”

Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.

“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”

At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.

“Bend over.”

Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.

With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.

“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.

Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”

Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.

“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.

“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.

“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.

Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.

“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.

The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.

“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.

“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.

“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.

“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.

Oh, fuck it.

As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.

You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.

“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.

“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.

By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.

With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.

“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point

“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”

“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.

Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.

“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”

“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.

Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.

After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.

“Feel sticky…”

“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.

Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”

“Fine. Such a princess…”

“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.

The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”

Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.

“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”

You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”

“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”

“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.

“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.

And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.

“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”

At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.

“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.

The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.

“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.

“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.

And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.

When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.

“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.

“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.

You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”

“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.

“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”

The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou fic #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut

11K notes · View notes

nanamiluvs · 7 months

Text

a gentleman by heart !

pairings : nanami x reader, gepard x reader, artem wing x reader

rating : mature to explicit

wc : 1.4k

tags : reader is afab but no pronouns used, lots of kissing, established relationship, creampie, kinda rough sex, desperation, size difference if you squint, just a quick drabble abt these men

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

sexually reserved men who become feral once they get your consent.

he's a gentleman in every sense of the word. he holds doors for you, buys you flowers, remembers trivial details about you- the perfect man one could ever dream of. it's not a surprise he doesn't touch you often, he would hate to make you uncomfortable. even his touch is gentle, his large hand lingering on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. tall, handsome, kind and strong- what more could you want from a man?

sexually reserved men who, at first, would never suggest intimacy. it's a gentlemanly act, but a result of his shyness at the same time. it's almost like he's refraining himself.

he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as his eyes stare into yours, so soft. you feel how much he loves you by any and every action of his, how can a man be so perfect?

he excuses himself as he thinks you didn't notice the bulge in his pants nor the slight blush on his cheeks. it's frustrating at this point, why won't he just initiate something else instead of adjusting himself and pretending nothing is happening? you feel dared to make him come out of his shell, to finally do something out of his gentlemanly persona. well, it's not exactly a persona, he's really just that perfect. but you're almost sure there's also something else hiding beneath the waters.

his hand brushes against your knee as he drives, a fleeting touch, one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel when the other just shy of touching your leg. so you grab his hand and place it on top of your thigh, expecting him to blush and pull his hand back.

and he gulps and fucking squeezes the flesh. he runs his hand up and down on your thigh, like he was waiting for your sign to do so. no words are exchanged as his hands moves closer and closer to your core and returns to the base of your thigh once again. you clench your thighs together, not the type of touch you were expecting from your gentle boyfriend but one you were very welcoming of.

you should've guessed it was merely a starting point.

his touches only get more and more daring as time goes on. you give him an inch and he takes a mile. you two haven't discussed this subject openly at all, yet you both knew how his hands started reaching lower when they were on you, more free. you wwante even more.

so finally, when you told him that you wanted him to take you, he was not as surprised as you would expect him to be.

"i know," he says, his hands on each side of your hips as you were seated on his lap. his eyes stare into yours before giving in and hiding his face in the crook of your neck, "and i want you too. i need you so bad-" his sharp breath hits your skin and you almost feel the inner conflict he has going on.

that's why you cup his cheeks and look into his eyes. "then take me. make me yours."

he wets his lips. "i'm afraid i won't be able to let you go if i do so."

when you respond by simply pressing your lips against his, it's like a switch has flipped. his hand comes up to grab the back of your head as he flips you over on the couch, your body trapped underneath his. his eyes are filed with passion and desperation as his lips claim yours with fervor, taking your breath away and making your hands cling onto the collar of his dress shirt, pulling him closer.

he parts away, breathless as he kisses you once again. you don't know when he takes you into his arms and when he drops you on his bed, too focused on his lips and touch to notice. "you're beautiful," he whispers as he unbuttons his shirt, eyes reveling in the sight of your disheveled hair and flushed state.

you truly were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

he's on top of you and his lips reunite with yours, shirt discarded on the floor before his hands tug onto your top, silently begging to get it out of the way. you let him do so, and his kisses trail down to your neck when he gets rid of the fabric. your hands grab his soft hair as he sucks on the sensitive skin, low moans escaping his lips from how much he wants to do this with you. the sounds you make goes straight down to his member.

soon, both of your clothes are discarded and his hand continues to fondle your breast, pinching and pulling the hardened bud between his digits while his mouth laches onto the other. he's gentle yet so rough at the same time, not giving you the time of the day to breathe. his mouth so wet and hot against your skin, he pulls away with a pop, panting as he, not even once, breaks eye contact with you.

his dick aches at the sight of your bare pussy, glistening with slick and looking just so pretty in his ehes. he leans in, to your surprise, his tongue licking a wet stripe across your slit. he delves in, he may not be very experienced but he's quite the quick learner, memorizing every single sound you let out to his movements. he soon has you tugging on his hair, pulling his head impossibly closer to your drenched cunt, riding out your orgasm in waves as he licks you through it. he grind his own bulge against the bed, chasing some friction on his needy cock.

sexually reserved men who are just so big and thick that you gasp at the sheer size of him when he takes the final layer off. your hand is not enough to accommodate his girth, and he's so hard since the visions he played in his mind were nothing compared to seeing your naked body. "i love you," you say as your arms wrap around his neck. he smiles against your lips and repeats the phrase before gently kissing you.

but you're not even sure if that thing can fit inside you.

that's why you're panting and moaning against his shoulder, his length sliding inside of you inch by inch. it's too much, you whimper, i can't take it.

sexually reserved men who whisper in your ear after leaving another mark on your neck, "you can. do it for me."

you sigh when you get used to his size filling your walls, every prominent vein you feel grazing against you, and he starts moving. he's so gentle at first.

yet that turns into relentless pounding with you screaming his name and grab onto him for dear life as he fucks you, drunk on the way your walls wrap around his dick and the way you call out to him, all thoughts about manners thrown out the window. he swallows your moans with his mouth against yours, kissing you as rough as he's having you.

sexually reserved men who grunt as he thrusts inside, even deeper than before with his long fingers rubbing your clit, sending you over the edge as you start begging him. you don't even know what you're begging for, it just feels too good and you don't know what else to do besides to take whatever he's giving you.

he whispers in your ear, telling you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how well you take him and how good you are for him, his words filled with so much love, how he wanted to do this for so long. it doesn't take long for you to cum again, milking his cock as he speeds up, your added slick making it easier to slide in and out.

he was going to pull out before he hears your words telling him to fucking come inside, eyes snapping up in shock before shutting down as his cock completely disappears inside your cunt and he can't hold back anymore. you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up to the brim, so full and warm that you couldn't think of anything else for a moment.

sexually reserved men who immediately check up on you after the high wears off, asking if you're alright or if he had hurt you. you pant and tell him no, you're just too fucked out to talk.

only when he leans down to kiss you could you feel his still-hard dick press against your thigh.

"...already?!"

"...i-i apologize."

nanami, gepard, artem

inspired by that one nanami twt <3

932 notes · View notes

anundyingfidelity · 11 months

Text

FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader

Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

Word count: 3.9k.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.

Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It's harder to stay...

Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.

The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.

Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.

"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.

Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"

The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.

"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.

"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.

"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.

During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.

"So it's personal..."

"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.

"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

2029, Sacred Timeline

When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.

But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.

You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.

At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.

Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.

He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.

So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.

Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.

The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.

"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.

You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.

All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."

"Loki, I saw you die..."

Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.

"I know you did, my love."

You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.

And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.

"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"

Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.

"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."

"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."

"What?" you mumbled.

Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?

"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.

Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"

He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."

You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.

"Your death was supposed to be then?"

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.

Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.

Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.

"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"

"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.

You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"

"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."

"Or you could do both."

"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, Loki."

"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."

You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."

Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.

You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.

"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."

He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."

"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."

"No,I can't-"

"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."

Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.

"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."

And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."

Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.

When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.

"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.

Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."

His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.

You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."

"Thank you, love."

Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.

"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.

"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.

So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.

Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.

"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.

"I love you too."

Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.

The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.

So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.

He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.

Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.

At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.

"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."

"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.

"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.

"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.

"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."

And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.

You were right. Mobius was a good friend.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #tva loki x reader #tva loki x female reader #tva!loki x reader #loki imagines #loki angst #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series fanfiction #loki season 2 #mcu loki x reader #mcu loki #loki series

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

SINCE WAY BACK | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!black!producer!reader (fc: alexis carrington)

side note: drake is aged up in this because i want y/n to be born around 2000/2001 but that would mean drake was 14/15 when he became a dad... so he's just a few years older here to make it more believable okay? great. side note pt2: there are so many long twitter threads used to explain the whole backstory. like, really really long. i didn't know how else to explain everything, i'm sorry.

♡ liked by champagnepapi, mclaren, octobersveryown and 829,938 others

tagged: mclaren, octobersveryown

f1 BREAKING: October's Very Own (OVO) joins the McLaren team as their new primary sponsor for the 2023 season.

#F1 #Formula1 #McLaren

view all 5,328 comments

user1 what the fuck is drake doing here

user2 i'm actually so gagged like what is happening why is drake invested in f1 all of a sudden

user3 this is such an odd pairing? drake and zak brown together feels like a fever dream

user4 drake joining f1 as a sponsor was definitely not on my 2023 bingo card

user5 caitlyn jenner buying a whole w series team is less surprising than whatever this is

♡ liked by yourusername, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 187,385 others

lando.jpg adonis is teaching me how to play basketball because otherwise he "cannot accept me" i've been humbled by a 5 year old

view all 483 comments

user6 is that the girl he might or might not be dating ⤷ user7 i need to know otherwise i might die (i won't but the suspense is killing me)

user8 WHO IS THAT GIRL LANDO

user9 is this you trying to soft launch or is she just a platonic friend?

user10 "fans" going insane because they can't handle the thought of lando having female friends as well

user11 he's not even tagging anyone omg now i have to scroll through all the people he follows. lando is not making my job easy

(private account)

♡ liked by centralcee, jorjasmith_, landonorris and 637 others

y/n_graham why am i trending on twitter and why is everyone uncovering my childhood

view all 45 comments

landonorris i think this is my fault ⤷ y/n_graham you and your jpg ⤷ landonorris my camera lense is just so mesmerised by your beauty ⤷ y/n_graham your compliments won't get you out of trouble

centralcee i'm literally getting dms asking about you ⤷ y/n_graham i woke up to 15,000 people trying to follow me

jorjasmith_ lando's fans are literally fbi agents ⤷ y/n_graham i'm making so many backup files of my music projects because i'm scared someone will hack into my laptop now

♡ liked by 238,273 others

f1wags Y/N Graham, daughter of Canadian rapper Drake, was photographed by a fan outside the venue in Greece where Lando Norris, her rumoured boyfriend, was playing this weekend. None of the two have confirmed nor deniend the relationship allegations that have been going around for a few months now. An inside source, which attended the party, revealed how the two behaved very intimate with each other.

view all 5,394 comments

user12 girl it's been nearly four months since the rumours started... can one of them just please either confirm or deny them?

user13 at this point i'm just over the whole drama. let them have their privacy i guess

user14 this drama is juicier than when the whole oscar-alpine-mclaren fiasco happened

user15 i'm this close to ripping my hair out why is this rumour been going on for AGES i just want a simple statement already

♡ liked by y/n_graham, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 374,947 others

tagged: y/n_graham, champagnepapi

lando.jpg bonding family time, got to support the father in law ;)

view all 9,294 comments

user16 EXCUSE ME WDYM FATHER IN LAW? is this a joke or real ⤷ y/n_graham we're not married, don't worry ⤷ user17 OMG Y/N MADE HER ACCOUNT PUBLIC JUST NOW

champagnepapi i like the sound of "father in law" ⤷ lando.jpeg i know you would ⤷ y/n_graham no no no

user18 okay from what i've gathered drake and lando are on good terms ⤷ user19 bet that's why drake sponsored mclaren lmao ⤷ y/n_graham no but deadass

user20 y/n fighting for her life in the comments lmaoooo ⤷ y/n_graham in the trenches

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sokoviansimp · 8 months

Text

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader

✒ Summary: Tension builds when Wanda and Y/N, who hate each other, are sent on a mission with Y/N's best friend, Natasha, and her wife Maria. The mission doesn't exactly go to plan.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, kidnapping, chemicals, hospital, bickering, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: not proofread, because I'm really high rn and want to get this out because it's been in my drafts for like a month but I've been so busy with moving, and working 2 jobs, and just life changes.

✒ Word Count: 9523

✒ Read Time: 24 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

The dimly lit, high-tech briefing room at the SHIELD headquarters buzzed with anticipation. Agents of all kinds filled the seats, their eyes trained on the enormous screen at the front. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, stood at the head of the room, her signature poise and confidence emanating from her.

You sat nearby, attention locked onto the screen. You had earned your place among the elite Shield agents through sheer skill and determination, graduating early from the academy. Your sharp mind and lightning-quick reflexes made you one of the best in the business.

Natasha, after glancing over to her wife, Maria, began the mission briefing. "Our intel suggests that a rogue group of Hydra operatives has obtained a dangerous chemical compound. We need to secure it before they can use it for any nefarious purposes. We’ll be sending a small team in to infiltrate, if all goes to plan we should be in and out within 2 days. Y/N, you’ll partner with Wanda, and Maria will come with me,” Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes and let out a small huff at being paired with you, “The tac team will meet us on day 2 by the south entrance to secure the base. Everyone clear?” Nat finished as she looked around the room to see a bunch of heads bobbing in confirmation.

Once everyone had filed out, you and Wanda hung back to discuss infiltration plans with Maria and Natasha. Nat explained that the trek to get to the area undetected would take a day, you would sleep at a small cabin safe house on the outskirts of the forest, and then the next day you would stealthily breach the border to the Hydra base and seize control of the chemical before letting the tac team in to finish up.

“Sounds like a plan, but why do y/n and I have to be partners on this?” Wanda added trying everything she could to get out of being stuck with you by her side.

“Now, I know you two love to bicker, but we’re all adults here. I’m sure you two can push your differences aside for 2 days.” Natasha explained as she shot Wanda a pointed look. She knew the brunette had her grievances about you and, as much as Nat loved you, she also knew how annoying you could be on the surface, but you two were also the ones Nat trusted most, aside from her wife, to have her six.

“I don’t see that being a problem, do you Wanda?” you confirmed with a smug smirk on your face, knowing you would have ample time to get under Wanda’s skin. Bickering with the brunette was something you would never admit you actually enjoyed, but you did. You loved getting her going and sometimes you could even imagine the smoke blowing out of her ears from how much you drove her crazy. You found herself drawn to Wanda's reactions, the way her cheeks would flush with annoyance, or her lips would curl into a sly smile when she caught on to your teasing. You unknowingly reveled in the attention it garnered from Wanda.

Wanda’s gaze shifted back to the screen as her brows knit tightly together forming a slight furrow in the middle of her forehead, “Guess not, when do we leave” she asked tightly pressing her lips together.

“Wheels up in 30” Nat informed as everyone filed out to pack.

You leaned against a nearby table, eyeing Wanda as she adjusted her gear. "Wanda, are you sure you're ready for this mission? I mean, it's not as easy as manipulating some red energy."

Wanda shot you a withering look, her scarlet eyes flashing. "Not everything can be solved by punching first and asking questions later, Sprints. Some of us have to use our brains."

Wanda had given you the nickname, Sprints, one day when you were training in the compound with Nat. Shield agents don't typically train at the compound, but your close friendship with Natasha made you an exception. This day, you had been bragging about setting a new in-house record for the 100-meter dash.

You chuckled, unfazed. "Brains, huh? Well, I'm glad one of us has 'em."

Wanda smirked, her accent lacing her words with a hint of sarcasm. "And I'm glad one of us doesn't rely solely on brute force."

You couldn't resist a playful jab. "True, but at least when I hit something, it stays down. Can't say the same for your mind tricks."

Wanda's lips curled into a wry smile. "Wanna test that theory?" she said pointedly as she raised her hand and her magic swirled around in her fingertips.

Just then, Nat entered breaking up the standoff between you and Wanda, “Knock it off you two, the jet is taking off in 5, get loaded up,” Nat instructed as she watched Wanda walk by you and slightly nudge your shoulder as you innocently raised your hands toward Natasha, “Now.” she said firmly causing you to scurry off with your bag in Wanda’s trail.

As the quin-jet roared to life, and with Nat and Maria both in the cockpit, you couldn't resist the urge to tease Wanda. You knew how to push the right buttons, and her playful, sometimes very real, annoyance was on full display.

You leaned across the narrow aisle, grinning mischievously at Wanda, who was quietly reading a book on her tablet. "Hey, Wanda," you began, your tone a touch too cheerful, "since we're going up against Hydra today, maybe you can use your mind tricks to make them forget they ever messed with us."

Wanda glanced at her with a bemused expression, clearly unimpressed. "Y/N, my powers don't work that way, and you know it."

Y/N pretended to ponder this for a moment, tapping her chin with a playful smirk. "Hmm, shame. It would've made our job so much easier. But hey, don't worry. I'm sure you'll find some other way to be useful."

Wanda sighed, shaking her head as she shifted her focus back to her book. She was clearly unamused by your antics.

As the quin-jet touched down in a remote area, nearly 10 miles from their target location, the four of you gathered your gear and prepared to embark on your covert trek. The evening was closing in quickly and with the loss of the sun, it would start getting cold soon.

Natasha, the team leader, huddled the group together for a final briefing. "Remember, we need to reach the cabin undetected. This is a highly secured area, and any alert could jeopardize the mission. Y/N and Wanda, I need you two to put your differences aside and work together. Our success depends on it."

Y/N exchanged a begrudging glance with Wanda but nodded in agreement. "Got it, Nat. I'll try not to annoy Wanda too much."

Wanda rolled her eyes but remained silent, her focus on the task at hand.

The team set out on their trek, moving silently through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the fallen leaves and underbrush. Y/N and Wanda found themselves side by side, each step of the way requiring them to cooperate and coordinate their movements to avoid detection.

Every now and then, an armored personnel carrier would drive by causing the team to utilize nearby ravines, trenches, and coves to avoid detection. At one point, they hid out in a culvert for a few minutes waiting for the oncoming trail of vehicles to pass. A crinkling sound eventually made its way to Wanda’s ears and her head snapped to you as you tore open a granola bar, “Really, is now the best time for that?” Wanda whispered, trying to keep quiet as she scolded you, “Oh yes, you do not want to see me when I’m hangry,” you quietly responded as Natasha hushed you both to keep quiet.

Despite your earlier banter and rivalry, you and Wanda fell into a rhythm as you navigated the challenging terrain. You took point, your sharp instincts and knowledge of the wilderness guiding the path. Wanda, with her enhanced senses, scanned for any signs of danger or hidden threats.

As you moved deeper into the night, the initial tension between the two of you began to dissipate. You began communicating with subtle gestures and exchanged information about the terrain and possible obstacles. Gradually, a sense of unity began to form between you two, as you realized that your success truly depended on your ability to work together.

Hours passed, and the mission team finally arrived at the remote cabin where they would be staying for the night. Nat and Maria thoroughly cleared it to make sure there were no unexpected guests. Once it was clear, you and Wanda made your way in. The cabin was rustic, with only two bedrooms, and it quickly became apparent that accommodations would be tight.

Natasha and Maria, who were married, naturally gravitated toward one of the bedrooms and claimed it as their own. They exchanged a knowing look, then turned to the rest of the team.

Wanda, ever the enigmatic one, made her preferences clear with a cool, unwavering stare. "I'm not sharing a room with Y/N," she stated firmly.

Realizing the implications, you tried to defuse the situation. "No problem, Wanda. I can sleep on the couch or even on the floor. It's not a big deal."

But Natasha, always the pragmatic leader, stepped in. "Actually, it is a big deal. We need both of you at your best tomorrow. We can't afford any tension or lack of rest. You two are sharing the other bed, there’s plenty of room."

Wanda's lips formed a thin line of irritation, but Natasha's word was final. She begrudgingly agreed, her tone laced with annoyance. "Fine, but I'm taking the left side of the bed."

You nodded following Wanda to the other room, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Works for me, Wanda. I promise not to steal the covers."

With the sleeping arrangements decided, the team settled into their respective rooms, though the atmosphere in the second bedroom was palpably tense. You and Wanda each occupying your respective sides with a noticeable gap between. Tension hung in the air, and you both lay stiffly under the covers, each determined not to give an inch.

The initial discomfort led to a silent battle for the covers. Your fingers twitched slightly as you subtly attempted to pull the blanket your way. Wanda, sensing the movement, tightened her grip on the fabric. This quiet tug-of-war continued for a while, neither of you willing to relinquish control.

But as time passed, exhaustion began to take its toll. The temperature in the room dropped, and the comfort of the covers became increasingly irresistible. Unbeknownst to either of you, both of you gradually drifted into a fitful slumber, with both your subconscious minds seeking warmth and comfort.

In the dead of night, your bodies shifted ever so slightly. In your sleep, you unconsciously turned toward Wanda, your back now touching Wanda's side. Wanda, still asleep, feeling the unexpected contact, hesitated for a moment but soon found herself subconsciously gravitating closer to your warmth.

Your movements continued to synchronize in the depths of sleep. Slowly but surely, the gap between you vanished as you instinctively nestled into each other. Your arm draped over Wanda's waist, and Wanda's head nestled into the crook of your neck. The covers you had fought over earlier now cocooning you both, providing warmth and security.

Though you had started the night as adversaries, the quiet intimacy of your subconscious movements told a different story. In the stillness of the cabin, with the moonlight filtering through the curtains, you and Wanda had found an unexpected source of comfort in each other's presence. It was as if you two were pieces in a puzzle that fit perfectly with one another as your exhaustion-riddled bodies melded together after a long day.

The morning sun filtered through the cabin's curtains, casting a warm and gentle glow across the room. As you and Wanda began to stir, you each gradually became aware of your compromising position. Your bodies were entangled, limbs intertwined, and faces mere inches apart.

For a brief moment, your eyes fluttered open and met Wanda’s gaze, your heartbeat picked up nearly drowning out any source of sound for you as your cheeks reddened, you knew you should want to move, should be upset, but you froze like a deer in headlights, like if you stayed still then she wouldn’t notice and would stay as well. For a moment, you enjoyed the comfort of the witch’s grasp. That was quickly replaced by your mutual disdain from the previous night as the tension resurfaced with the disgusted look Wanda shot over to you. You locked eyes, both startled by the proximity and the realization of how closely you had been clinging to each other in your sleep.

Wanda quickly pulled away, her cheeks coloring slightly with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She shifted to her side of the bed and cleared her throat, avoiding your gaze. "This is... not how I expected to wake up."

Equally flustered, you hastily withdrew your arm and adjusted your position to sit on the edge of the bed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly my ideal morning either."

The tension that had momentarily dissipated during the night returned in full force. Both of you were acutely aware of the compromising position you had awoken in, and it only served to highlight your ongoing rivalry and mutual discomfort.

As you both jumped to get out of bed and prepared for the day ahead, your distaste for each other remained palpable. The events of the night had not erased your differences or any of the underlying tension, and you were both eager to put some distance between each other and the uncomfortable intimacy you had experienced in your sleep. Was it really uncomfortable though? You couldn’t deny, it was the best you had slept in weeks. No, it was. Just remembering the look of pure disgust on Wanda’s face puts the bad taste right back in your mouth.

“You two are up early, figured I’d have to come in clanging some pans the way you two like to sleep in.” Nat teased as you and Wanda entered the kitchen, “How’d you sleep?”

“Goo-” you began but were cut off but the louder brunette beside you, “TERRIBLE” she groaned in response, not wanting to re-live what she woke up to.

Nat glanced at Y/N knowingly, “What was that, Y/N?” she continued to tease as she poured the coffee that she had just made into 2 mugs in front of her for each of you.

“Yea, grossly bad. Just- what she said” you stammered to get out, trying to remember what exactly was so bad about it. Then you remembered the look on Wanda’s face full of disgust again, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty that she felt that way toward you.

Once you were all geared up and ready to leave the cabin, Natasha went over the plan one more time before you all stealthily headed back out into the forest. The weak spot that you were looking to infiltrate was about 5 miles from the cabin and you thanked whatever gods may exist that it wasn't winter yet. The air was cold against your cheeks, enough to tinge them a slight red from the wind burn, but not so frigid that you were shivering or unable to focus.

Wanda, on the other hand, curled in on herself any chance she could in order to keep warm and ward off the shivers that threatened to take over her body. As you were waiting in another culvert for a line of trucks to pass by, you noticed from the way Wanda was curled up that she was struggling. Knowing you could survive without the jacket you were wearing, you went to offer it to the witch, “Cold?” you whispered softly and placed your hand on her shoulder to get her attention from behind.

Her eyes snapped over to meet your gaze and she pulled her arm away from your touch like you were a deadly disease, “I’m fine,” she whispered back icy and dismissive, making a mental note to hide her discomfort better. Her disgust for you was clear, little did she know, you were only trying to help.

Taken aback by her response, your initial concern became clouded with frustration. All you wanted to do was see her light up in your direction and yet everything you did caused her to hate you more. If she’s going to act this way, may as well give her a reason. Two can play this game, “Oh right, I forgot you’re made of tougher skin than the rest of us peasants,” you mocked, keeping your tone low so as to not give up your position.

The look that Wanda shot back your way sent shivers down your spine, “Should’ve come more prepared, like me,” you say flaunting your jacket and digging the metaphorical knife deeper as Nat waved an ‘all clear’ signal.

“There it is,” Wanda snapped back at you, “every chance you get to be a coc-“ Natasha cut Wanda off, silencing her, before she could finish her point.

You caught Wanda’s gaze as it happened and pointed at your ears tauntingly. Her jaw tightened and her anger brewed as she continued to move through the culvert, following Nat and Maria’s lead.

As the team made its way out of the culvert and trekked along the route, you noticed Wanda was no longer shivering, all the pent-up anger toward you providing her warmth that would last at least a couple of minutes as you smirked to yourself.

Once inside, Natasha and Maria took point in clearing a path and disabling guards with precision and stealth. You and Wanda had been tasked with obtaining the chemical agent that had been noted on the radar. The crucial task brought you both further into the facility, and as much as you each had trouble being in one another’s presence, you put your differences aside to work well as a team.

As you moved deeper into enemy territory, you settled back into the unspoken language of signals you had used the previous day together. Wanda was easily able to disable the camera feeds with her telekinesis while you took out any remaining guards and covered your tracks.

Soon enough, you both came to a secure-looking door, its lock was intricate and seemed heavily fortified with barometric readings and sensors. Without hesitation, Wanda focused her energy on the lock’s mechanism, using her powers to manipulate the gears and pins. You had her back, keeping watch on the corrodor, as she fell vulnerable to an attack from behind with her mind focused elsewhere.

A stray guard came out of a room down the hall making his way in your direction as he began to yell and pull out his gun, “Don’t lose focus Wanda, I got your back,” you assured her as you swiftly disabled the guard. As much as Wanda may hate you, she knew deep down that she could trust you and kept her focus on the door.

Once you settled back beside Wanda, you couldn’t help but let out a snarky comment as she was otherwise engaged with her powers, “You know, Wanda, it’s almost like having magic hands comes in handy on a mission like this,”

Wanda shot you a side-eye glance with just a hint of a smirk on her lips, “Oh, so now you like my powers, huh?”

Grinning, you responded, “Let’s just say, I’m starting to see the perks.”

With that, Wanda was finally able to get the door lock to yield to her magic and open up. With the granted entry, you both slipped into the room beyond, only to be met with dozens of eyes from scientists working in the lab you just entered, “What’s up fellas, I heard you’ve been playing with a new toy,”

The scientists, startled by the sudden intrusion, immediately recognized the threat and reacted swiftly. They shouted in alarm as you charged at them causing one of them to activate a security alarm, triggering a set of reinforced doors to slam shut, attempting to neutralize the largest threat they saw, Wanda.

Before she could react, you pushed her out of the way, finding yourself locked inside a sealed chamber, cut off from Wanda and the rest of the room. Panic coursed through your veins as you realized the predicament. Seeing that you’re in no position to look out for Wanda any longer, you began pounding on the glass door, shouting for her to get out, but the scientists weren’t done quite yet.

In a desperate bid to incapacitate you, originally Wanda, and prevent any further interference, one of the scientists had activated an aerosol dispenser in the sealed chamber. A fine mist of the chemical agent you had been tasked with retrieving filled the air around you. All you could do was gasp as the toxic substance began to take effect. Desperately trying to hold your breath and shield yourself from exposure, your focus shifted from escape to self-preservation. Your skin became overrun with a dark crystalized rash, similar to obsidian growing like a vine on the side of an unkept building, scaling up and down your arms as it spread out.

On the other side of the sealed door, Wanda fought to free you from your captors, her powers surging as she attempted to disable the security measures and reach you as quickly as possible. She knew the amount of time it would take her to break through the mechanism would be fatal for you, so she desperately took to screaming at the scientists to unlock the door and sending a wave of magic knocking them against the wall when they wouldn't cooperate. The scientists, however, were determined to keep you separated and eliminate the threat they posed to their operation. The mission had taken a treacherous turn, and you were left alone in a race against time to survive the effects of the chemical while Wanda fought desperately to save you.

As the seconds flew by, your vision grew hazy and Wanda knew you were reaching critical condition as the rash spread to your face. When brute force failed, she surged into the minds of the scientists standing before her to figure out how to disable the chamber. Once she was deep enough within their mind to bend their bodies to her will, she was finally able to free you.

As soon as the doors opened to allow Wanda to reach you, she rushed in without a second thought, her magic almost working subconsciously to move whatever was left of the chemical in the air. You laid on the floor hanging onto any bit of consciousness you could grasp onto as you faded in and out, just hoping to make it out alive.

The witch scooped you up and darted for the exit, “Nat, we have an emergency situation here. Need medical evac NOW!” Wanda said over the comms. Her sprint turned into a quick glide through the air as she found it easier and quicker to let her magic take you both through the base and toward the exit.

“Roger that, contacted HQ for the tac team and medical. 10 minutes out.” Nat responded, “What hap-”

“Fuck- 10 minutes? I don’t know if she has that long,” Wanda responded with worry, as she looked down at you shaking in pain as you drifted in and out of awareness, “Y/N, hey look at me, can you hear me?” Wanda spoke gently but with urgency, as you met her gaze briefly before your eyes rolled back slightly in a blur, “Medical is on the way, you just need to hold out for 10 minutes, I’m going to get you there, just- hang on” Wanda stated as her grip on you tightened and her magic quickened in pace.

Within minutes, Wanda met up with a medical team that arrived on the scene. They assessed your condition and quickly realized the severity of the situation. You were unconscious, struggling to breathe, and not only displaying signs of chemical poisoning but also a rash they had never seen before.

Working together, Wanda and the medical team carefully stabilized your condition as best they could on-site. They administered oxygen and provided preliminary treatment to counteract the effects of the chemical agent.

Recognizing the urgency of the situation, the medical team made the critical decision to transfer you to a nearby hospital equipped to handle chemical exposure cases. They carefully loaded you onto a gurney and rushed you onto an awaiting helicopter.

During the tense journey to the hospital, Wanda rode alongside you holding her hand and offering silent reassurance, while Nat and Maria stayed back to work with the tactical team. The situation remained dire, but they were doing everything they could to give you the best chance of survival.

At the hospital, a team of specialized medical professionals took over your care, working tirelessly to detoxify your system and stabilize your condition. The chemical exposure had taken a toll on your body, and even after all this time, your prognosis remained uncertain.

Wanda, exhausted and fraught with worry, refused to leave your side. As if every reason she had to hate you flew out the window, she was determined to stand by her partner throughout this ordeal, hoping and praying for your recovery.

Wanda was pulled from her spiraling thoughts in the waiting room as she heard a nurse utter, “She’s stable,” in a very neutral tone, so neutral that maWanda was unsure if it was actually good news, “but she’s not out of the woods yet.” she warned as she motioned for Wanda to follow her in to be by your side once again.

The brunette stood to follow, “Is she awake?”

The nurse shook her head, mentioning that she doesn’t expect you to wake up for at least 12 hours. They needed to ensure that your body has flushed out the toxin before allowing it to exert any more energy.

Wanda took the seat by your bed and notified Natasha of the situation. She was hopeful, knowing you're a fighter, and Wanda tried to be optimistic as well, “It should’ve been me, Nat,” Wanda stated full of guilt and regret. Nat did her best to assure Wanda that she would’ve done the same and your situation was in no way her fault. Deep down, she wonders if she actually would’ve done the same.

“You better wake up, Sprints, or I swear. How dare y- why do you have to be the best at everything?” She sighed as her body trembled and a tear spilled from her eyelid.

After two long and agonizing days of unconsciousness, you finally began to stir in the hospital bed. Your vision was hazy at first, and you struggled to regain full awareness but as your senses gradually sharpened, you slowly became aware of the sterile hospital room that surrounded you.

The first thing you noticed was Wanda, sitting by your bedside. As your eyes met Wanda’s, your heart skipped a beat, you could see her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and relief. It was unlike her, but you couldn't help but smile weakly, your voice hoarse as you croaked out a greeting. "Hey there."

Wanda's expression softened, and she reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "You're awake," she replied, her relief evident in her voice until it starkly changed to anger, almost like a mask, “Don't ever do that again!” she warned, brows furrowing.

“Wow, not even a thank you.” you teased as Wanda bit back to reiterate, “I’m serious y/n, I could’ve protected myself.”

“Yeah, but I protected us both,” you snarkily replied letting the brunette build up steam as you dug further.

“Protected? You almost got yourself killed, for nothing! God you're insufferable!” she exclaimed, not even wanting to be in the room with you anymore. Remembering just how annoying it is to even hold a conversation with you.

“Didn’t realize you cared,”

As your eyes continued to scan the room, you spotted Natasha and Maria entering the room with a tray of coffee and snacks, “Coffee anyone? Oh Y/N, you're awake!”

You smiled in response as Nat took the coffee from her wife with a smile, letting the tension built between you and Wanda disipate as they took over the conversation.

“You gave us quite the scare there, y/n,” Nat noted, as much as she worried for you, she knew you were a fighter with the best medical team in the country.

“Aw, you were worried?” You teased, knowing Nat to always keep a stone cold exterior to most, only letting ones that she was close to, like you, really get to see her emotions.

“Not one bit,” she lied and everyone in the room knew.

As Nat and Maria took over the conversation, Wanda sat there brewing. Not only could she not understand the emotions she was feeling for you, but they just kept brewing as he sat in silence. Anger, relief, annoyance, worry, it all swam around in a confusion pool of questions. Her abrupt departure was without a word and you looked to Nat as she left, “Guess she’s tapped out on me for the day,”

Nat knew that you and Wanda had a rocky relationship but she felt that the brunettes behavior was quite uncalled for given the circumstances, “mm, I’ll talk to her,” Nat hummed as she got up to leave the room in pursuit of Wanda.

“And then there were two,” you joked with Maria.

Nat found Wanda in the hallway walking toward the exit of the hospital, she was headed back to the cabin as that’s where the 3 of them have been staying while you were stuck in a foreign hospital until you were ready to be transferred back to New York, “What the fuck was that?” Nat aggressively shouted in Wanda’s direction.

Wanda quickly snapped her head around to the familiar voice, eyes landing on the angry Russian, “Not now Nat, please.” She dismissed as she stayed on her path.

“No, Wanda, you don’t get to pick and choose. Y/N was practically on her deathbed to save you and this is how you want to act? What’s so terrible that you can’t even spend more than 5 minutes with her?”

“I didn’t need her to save me, she just made it all even more,” Wanda paused before bursting out, “DIFFICULT!”

Nat could tell this was about more than just getting you to safety after the mission. She knew Wanda had dealt with a lot and always had a hard time getting her emotions in check. Instead of pressing further, she decided to switch up the metaphorical cards in her hands, “well all she wanted was to make sure you were safe.” With that, Nat turned to head back to your room. Wanda stood there watching her walk away, knowing she was right.

Before Wanda could decide what to do next the ground began to shake. It was subtle at first but soon, the items lining the walls and the structure of the building began to tremble along with it. Nat turned back to Wanda, who was still standing behind her, “Is that you?” She raised her brow, knowing the answer would be no, but hoping that it was by chance as that would make their job much easier.

Wanda shook her head, confusion written all over her face as Nat turned again in the direction of your room in a full sprint, Wanda following Nat’s lead closely behind. Nat easily put the pieces together that the chemical agent you were exposed to would have effects that they could not predict.

When they made it to your room, they were met with Maria trying to calm you down as you shook and writhed on the bed in pain. Your skin felt like it had just been dipped in lava causing your temperature to rise so much that you could visibly see a slight red tint on your face. Inside was arguably even worse as the uncontrollable shivers caused you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

Nat tried calling for a doctor through the hallways as the building began shaking even more. The worse your condition became, the more aggravated the building shook. They had to do something before the hospital filled with hundreds of innocent people became rubble. Wanda came to the side of your bed opposite Maria, shock prominent on her features as she watched you squirm, not knowing how to help.

Maria could tell that Wanda was struggling with how to help, honestly, she didn't know exactly what to do either, but she did know that they had to get the building to stop shaking, and she was sure with Wanda’s magic, they would be able to help you somehow, “We have to neutralize the seismic waves emitting from her somehow,” Maria told Wanda as she kept her eyes on you, trying to figure out a solution.

With that, Wanda was snapped out of the frozen state she was in as her eyes lit up red and she dove into your mind, trying to get answers. Near instantly her body began to tremble as a whimper fell from her mouth at the pain that radiated from you, “Y/N you have to calm down, the whole building is about to collapse”

“I’m not doing anything,” your thoughts fighting to make sense of the situation, “I-I can't control it! H-HURTS!”

Wanda’s balance faltered as the building’s shaking became more intense, her grip on the railing of your hospital bed tightened, and it became clear to her that her best option was to sedate you. She reached her hands toward your temple and let the red tendrils of her magic flow freely toward your skin as they rooted themselves within your mind. Taking hold and lulling you into a calm state of peaceful sleep. Slowly but surely, the building stood still again and soon after, a doctor came in to assess the situation.

“About time,” Natasha spat with clear irritation towards the doctor.

Wanda, felt a growing unease as Dr. Scholt entered the room. His icy, judgmental gaze fell onto you as he began to examine your medical chart and machines. It was clear to Wanda that his discomfort with powered individuals was not something he could easily hide.

Ignoring Nat’s comment, Dr. Scholt made his way over to assess your condition eventually swaying from their original plan of keeping you until you were stable enough to be transferred, “I've seen too many of their kind, causing nothing but chaos and destruction. We don't have the resources to deal with creatures like this in our hospitals,” unaware that one of the most powerful enhanced individuals was standing right beside him, his disdain for you was clear with his tone and judgmental words.

With a mixture of anger and concern, Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and her voice carried a hint of impatience as she retorted, "We're here because we need medical assistance, Doctor, not a lecture. Y/N's condition is the priority, and I expect her to receive the same care as any other patient. Your personal opinions have no place in a hospital room."

Before the doctor had the chance to respond, Wanda cut in, “No, it’s fine. He made his stance awfully clear,” she quarreled with a head tilt toward the doctor before turning back to Natasha, “We’ll take it from here,”

“Great, I’ll get her prepped for transport,” the doctor mentioned as he attempted to grab sedatives to administer to you for the ride. However, Wanda wasn’t going to let him or his team lay another finger on you after the display he just made, knowing even from his thoughts, that his ill intentions may get the better of him.

Before he left the room, Wanda caught his attention, “Maybe I wasn’t clear, Adam,” refusing to use his doctorate title, “we will take it from here.” she precisely articulated in a sharp manner, “Our transport team is on the way, You and your team are not to lay another finger on Agent y/l/n. Are we clear?” she flared, starring daggers into his soul.

“How do you know my name?” he bit back as if that was the most important thing that Wanda said.

“Are we clear?” Wanda repeated, without any explanation for the extra information. The doctor quickly took the hint as he nodded and scurried out of the room.

Wanda’s gaze shifted to meet Nat’s gaze who stood by the door as she watched the doctor walk past her to leave the room, “All that for someone you hate, can’t imagine what you're like when you actually like somebody,” she teased.

“I don’t hate her,” Wanda defended as she tried to hide the growing smirk on her face, “She’s just the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she added to keep her position on you clear and she couldn’t have anyone thinking she likes you in the slightest, “But he wanted to do more to her than prep her for transport,” She informed the two other agents that stood with her in the room around your bed.

“Well, Y/N’s lucky to have you in her corner, once Fury hears about this, Mr. Sholt can kiss his doctorate goodbye,” Maria reassured as she took a seat beside your bed to wait for the transport team to arrive in a couple hours.

Once SHIELD’S medical team arrived, they administered sedatives to keep you unconscious during the flight and prepared you for the jet before you woke up. Wanda was instructed to be by your side as an extra precaution, in case you somehow woke up or your unhinged powers started going haywire in your sleep.

The ride back was tame with no real issues, at one point Wanda could sense your consciousness creeping back in but she was able to quickly lull you back to comatose with her magic. Once the jet landed, they quickly got you set up in the med bay at the compound in Upstate New York. This was not typical protocol for the team. Since you were not an Avenger and merely a Shield agent, proper protocol would be to take you to the medical facilities at SHIELD headquarters. Natasha wouldn’t allow that to happen though, under her authority, she made sure you were overseen by the best team available and close enough to keep watch on.

In a matter of hours, the team ran all the tests they deemed necessary, concluding that the chemicals you came into contact with ignited something that laid dormant in your DNA. The gene acted as a sponge for the toxins, without it, the poison would’ve continued to spread and shut down every part of your body slowly and painfully. Instead, the contagion was absorbed into the gene strand, which was subsequently sent into its next phase. Without the toxin, this gene could’ve laid dormant within you forever, instead, it entered a new stage, triggering your new abilities.

“Was anyone else in contact with this chemical?” Dr Cho asked out of an abundance of caution, knowing that if they had been, they probably wouldn’t be in such good condition.

Nat looked to Wanda for a response, knowing she was the one in the room with you when it was released. Wanda’s gaze fell to the floor for a brief second before she began, “No, they meant to expose me but Y/N pushed me out of the way,” Wanda explained as she recalled the events from a couple of days prior.

Dr. Cho nodded slightly in acknowledgment before responding “It’s a good thing Y/N was the one affected by this in all honesty. Without running tests, there’s no way to know whether the rest of the team has the gene structure to survive such an attack. She got real lucky,” Dr. Cho explained as she went over the results of the tests.

Wanda struggled with this internally. Part of her was thankful things unfolded the way they did because if they hadn't the situation could've been a lot worse, but the other part twisted it to figure that you must have just been trying to 1-up her. You never do anything nice without something in it for yourself, at least in her eyes. This wasn’t anything new when it came to the way she thought about you. It was often that your intentions were competitive and came off abrasive, but she tended to use that model of thought for anything you did in her presence. Shaking every bit of sincerity off for a hidden agenda, and refusing to see any good in you. Deep down, maybe she didn’t want to see the good in you, it was so much easier to be closed off. Afraid that once she starts to unravel you, she’ll have no more walls to hide behind. No more armor to keep her from falling for you, to keep her safe from the pain she’s always known to follow. So, she doesn't think too deeply about it, instead, she lets her thoughts protect her.

It was easier for her to paint you as an asshole than to deal with the mixed emotions she felt for you. Blaming everything on your lack of empathy acted almost as a shield for her, enabling her to bury other emotions so deep that she could forget about them. After replaying the events over and over in her head on a loop, she was able to spin the story in her head and concluded that you must’ve known about your genetics. You had to go through genetic testing to be a field operative with such high clearance, surely that’s how you knew. So the only reason you even pushed her out of the way was to look like the hero, to make it look like she needed saving, knowing full well you’d make it out just fine. Ugh, you’re the worst.

With that, it was like a switch in Wanda flipped. As if her emotions were immediately shut off, she stopped visiting you at the medbay and was happy to go about her daily life without a care in the world of your condition.

You spent the next few weeks recovering. Natasha was by your side every step of the way, acutely aware of who visited you and who didn’t. Wanda never did. Tony came by a few times, you two weren't very close but he felt the need to show face at least. With nothing much to talk about, Tony always defaulted to talking about work when he was nervous. He didn’t find himself in too many situations without anything to say, but when he did, he attempted to claim the room with his confidence as he always had in his career. Almost as a nervous tik, he defaulted to talking about things that he knew a great deal about, even if the people around him didn’t.

To his surprise, you were easily able to keep up with his shop talk jargon and follow along with the schematics he propped open as examples. The two of you quickly began bonding over your love for science and math. Nat noticed the uptick in visits from Stark and was happy to see you making more connections with the people she called family.

Some of the other Avengers made their way down to the medbay as well after Nick encouraged it in a meeting. He knew how good of an agent you were, following your progress ever since word spread about you during your time at SHIELD Academy. It was practically unheard of for an Agent to graduate early, only 2 had ever done it before you. Since then, he made sure to check up on your progress every few months, hoping you’d grow into a top agent so he could use you on one of his special teams. With your new onset of abilities, he figured that eventually, you’d fit right in as a new addition to the Avengers.

Fury rarely leaves anything to chance though, including your development. In order to get you comfortable with your newfound abilities, you’d need a mentor. Someone who has gone through a transition like yours before. After giving it some thought, there was only one other person on the team who could relate to you in that sense.

Thor, while he did have to prove he was worthy to his father and himself in order to unlock his full potential, his powers always belonged to him. There was nothing unexpected or confusing about it. He has always wielded his power with knowledge and confidence. Similarly, Steve’s transition was also foreseen and he was able to quickly and seamlessly get a hold of his powers.

Bruce on the other hand, still struggles to keep the beast inside of him under control. While he may be able to relate to the situation you’re currently experiencing, he wouldn’t be the right fit to mentor you with the way he is still trying to figure things out for himself.

It was clear that Wanda could relate to your situation most closely. While she may have volunteered in the experiments carried out by Hydra, the outcome was something she never could’ve expected. For a while, she struggled to come to terms with what her body was capable of. Fearing that she would lose control and hurt someone unintentionally, and deep down the fear always lingers, but she has learned how to control it; and while she may not believe it herself, her team trusts her and her ability to keep her powers in check.

Fury knew the two of you were far from besties, but he hoped this mentorship could double as a bonding experience to help get you more acclimated to the team. Wanda would need to get used to you being around more often, whether she was okay with it or not, he hoped this could help nudge her in the direction of welcoming the transition.

“No. Not a chance in hell.” Wanda argued as she stood from the chair opposite Fury in his office. Nick didn’t offer a reaction, instead, he kept his face neutral and waited for Wanda to come to terms with the arrangement.

Noticing that Fury was not giving in, Wanda broke the silence to add, “Why me? I have nothing to teach her, she’s insufferable. This seems like more of a Rodger’s job.”

“The arrangement isn’t negotiable, Maximoff. Y/N has a lot to learn from you and I’m sure you’ll be a great teacher once she’s back on her feet.” Wanda scoffed, anger beating off her, as she went to leave the meeting.

“Oh, one more thing,” Nick added causing the brunette to pause and turn by the door, “Y/N will not know about this arrangement of ours, and I intend to keep it that way, are we clear?” without giving a clear response, Wanda rolled her eyes and stormed off to the gym, wanting to let her anger out on something meant to be hit before she ended up taking it out on the nearest wall.. “Oh, and I expect an influx of visits from you to the medbay!” He shouted towards her retreating form down the hall.

Straight from Fury’s office, she stormed into the gym with a palpable aura of frustration and anger. Her usually calm and composed demeanor had given way to an agitated energy that practically crackled in the air around her.

Nat, who happened to be in the gym working on her own training routine, turned her head as she sensed Wanda's arrival. The room seemed to darken with Wanda's stormy presence, and Natasha knew that something had clearly set her off.

Wanda didn't waste a moment. She approached one of the punching bags, her eyes flashing with a mix of determination and anger. Without saying a word, she unleashed a series of powerful punches and kicks that sent the heavy bag swinging wildly.

Wanda's frustration reverberated through the gym as she relentlessly pummeled the punching bag, each strike carrying the weight of her annoyance. The ferocity of her strikes was a clear indication of her irritation. Natasha, noticing the intensity of Wanda's training session, decided it was time to address the obvious tension. Wanda's training strikes were powerful and precise, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

Once Nat felt that Wanda had gotten out her initial anger, she approached her friend cautiously, waiting for a break in the flurry of punches before speaking. She knew better than anyone that sometimes words were not enough, and physical exertion was the only way to cope with intense emotions, "Wanda, what's going on?" Natasha asked, her tone laced with concern as she held the opposite side of the punching bag sturdy for Wanda to continue laying on punches.

“Fury.” She growled, “He wants me to.” *PUNCH* “mentor y/n” *PUNCH* “he won’t let” *PUNCH* “Steve do it.” *PUNCH* “He wouldn’t listen” *PUNCH* “ugh!” the punching finally stopped as she left a hand on the punching bag for balance while she caught her breath.

Natasha peeked around the bag that she held steady for Wanda to give her opinion, trying to approach with caution, knowing Wanda wouldn't like what she had to say.

Natasha didn’t know what triggered it, but she noticed the stark change in the way Wanda went from caring about you in the foreign hospital to completely shutting herself off from you as soon as you got back to New York.

Nat took a step back from the bag to gather her thoughts, “Let me get this straight, you’re throwing a fit because the girl who just saved your life is going through life-changing trauma right now and Fury is asking you to help her through it because you have experience and have been through a similar situation?” with one eyebrow slightly raised, she shot Wanda a pointed glare.

With her frustration rebuilding as she processed Nat’s words, Wanda pushed the bag away and turned toward the door, “Oh, here we go again. Poor Y/N she’s always the victim,” Wanda marched toward the door, not wanting to hear another person defend you. In her eyes, you were conniving and everything you did was calculated, other people just couldn't see past your charm to expose how much you actually tormented her. They couldn’t see how she was so clearly the victim in this circumstance. They couldn't see how twisted you made everything. She could though, she saw right through you.

Nat wasn’t letting her get off that easy. She chased after the brunette trying to storm out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to be face to face. Against her own desire, Wanda’s feet stayed planted to see what Nat had to say.

“Are you serious? You two may not be friends, but she saved your fucking life. She was there for you, the least you could do is offer her some support and show a sliver of gratitude! You need to take a good hard look at yourself, this isn’t the Wanda I know.” Nat scolded

Seething, Wanda bit back through gritted teeth, “I didn’t ask her to.” without giving Natasha the opportunity to speak, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the gym.

Natasha stood there nearly dumbfounded, wondering what had gotten into Wanda to make her so heartless and cruel towards you.

From the gym, instead of wallowing alone in her room, Wanda decides to leave the compound for a walk around the grounds. As she walked alone with her own thoughts, she desperately tried to calm the anger within. Spending more time with you was the last thing she wanted to do, especially after coming to the conclusion that your heroic act was just a ruse.

As she strolled, she went through countless scenarios for ways that she could get out of this whole situation. There wasn’t a single one that she thought was good enough to change Fury’s mind.

What if I broke my hand? No, I'm sure he’d still make me teach her. What if the compound mysteriously caught fire? That would probably only delay things. What if there was an Avenger’s level threat? He’d probably just make me do it when I got back. What if I became evil and left the Avengers to take over the world or something? That could work, though it’s a bit dramatic and I don't even want to take over the world.

Knowing that Nat was on your side about this already told her that everyone else at the compound would share Fury’s opinion. Out of the whole team, Nat was the one most likely to take Wanda’s side for anything. She always knew that if Natasha’s opinion differed on a subject, the others were bound to as well.

Wanda took the rest of the day to decompress and attempt to accept that she’d have to mentor you. The next day during breakfast, she heard Tony and Thor mention they’d be visiting you once they finished their meal. Knowing she’d have to see you eventually, Wanda’s ears perked at the opportunity to tag along and not go alone, “Can I come?” Wanda’s eagerness came as a shock to the two men sitting across the counter from her, but also to everyone else within earshot who wasn’t involved in the conversation.

“Come to see y/n?” Tony clarified, not sure if Wanda had heard them correctly but she nodded in confirmation, “ye- yea of course.” he confirmed, surprised Wanda had any interest in visiting you.

The hum of medical equipment filled the medbay as Tony and Thor entered, their presence bringing a dynamic shift to the room. You were still in the process of recovery, looking up with a mixture of surprise and gratitude as the two Avengers approached and Wanda trailed behind. She didn’t say anything as the two of them greeted you, and instead, she took the furthest seat in the room from your bed.

Tony, always one for theatrics, struck a dramatic pose. "Fear not, citizens! Iron Man and the God of Thunder have arrived to grace you with our formidable presence."

Thor chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Indeed! We heard tell of a valiant warrior in need of cheering, and so we have descended."

You couldn't help but smile at their playful entrance, a welcome distraction from the monotony of the medbay. However, as the three of you continued the banter, Wanda lingered at the periphery, sitting leaned back with her arms crossed and a subtle expression of indifference on her face.

Not letting her get away with sneaking in unnoticed, you broke the silence that lingered between the two of you, “Wasn’t expecting you to be here, Wanda. Did someone force you to be here or something?” You saw right through her, but before she could lie through gritted teeth and say that she was there of her own volition, Tony spoke up instead, “Believe it or not, she actually asked us to come,” Tony defended.

Riding along Tony’s explanation, Wanda forced a smile to sell it. She was grateful that he had beat her to it, she was never much good at lying. You weren’t fully convinced that there wasn’t some underlying explanation for her presence but you accepted it with an impressed look on your face, “Wow, no hidden agenda?”

“Actually there is one,” Wanda clarified as she began to explain, “I’m going to mentor you.”

“Mentor?” You were taken aback. Why was Wanda suddenly interested in mentoring you and what made her think you wanted to be her mentee?

“Yeap, we’ve both been through similar experiences and you have a lot to learn about controlling your new powers,” she added with passive aggressiveness dripping from her words.

You wanted to question her further, but you also didn’t want to push her to rescind her offer. Truthfully, you were kind of excited at the thought of Wanda teaching you how to wield your newfound abilities. You knew that she went through a similar situation while she was with Hydra and the thought of spending more time with her, though you would never admit it, made you excited, “oh- okay.” you accepted.

Wanda expected more of a fight with you about this but was relieved to get it over with easily.

“How exciting,” Thor announced, “I know a thing or two about using powers myself if you need help or anything.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a call if I find a magical hammer,” you teased making the other two chuckle.

Taglist: @marvelogic @esposadejoyhuerta @ju-maxi89 @gingiesworld @simpforlizzie @bigbattygyal585 @cakechan123 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

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tremendum · 8 months

Text

heaven is a place on earth; joel miller

prologue; im a loser, baby!

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au (pre-outbreak, altered ages), Joel Miller x fem!nanny!reader. dedicated to the anon who suggested this trope.

↬ series masterlist main masterlist

↬ it's 2000. you're freshly single, three weeks away from being evicted, and your coworker knows a hot, single dad who is hiring for a nanny. you'll take anything you can get.

↬ warnings; tagged 18+ for eventual smut and mature themes. MDNI. age gap (reader is 22, joel is 35), fiscal anxieties, allusions to a shitty ex. if your name is michelle, norah, or dan, you get to be twins with my ocs in this series <;33

series mixtape, song one; Loser, Beck. 1994.

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"fuck."

your voice hisses through the rows of books you stalk down, legs carrying you with fervor towards the front desk. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

you whirl past a mother reading a children's book to her toddler and wince at your language, mouthing sorry! at the baby as you pass. avoiding the harsh glare of its mother, you mutter under your breath. "shit."

in your hurry, your hip slams into the wooden corner of the front desk; a small grunt of pain hisses through your clenched teeth as you trudge up to your swivel chair.

"god, damn it!" you bemoan, lowering yourself into your chair and sighing heavily as you drop your head to your hands.

"so...it can't be good news." Michelle says to you, quietly, as she grimaces apologetically to the mother who walks towards the exit, shielding her stupid baby's ears from your foul mouth. you ignore the woman's harsh look of judgement, instead biting your lip, willing yourself to calm down.

with a suck of deep breath you shake your head. "no, it is not."

she sends you a consolatory look and to this you groan, "the rent's too much here. thought I'd get this one, I really did." you mutter helplessly, picking up several of the books from the drop bin to check them back in on your computer. "they made me endure four interviews. all for nothing."

a consolatory hand graces your shoulder and you offer your coworker a small smile of gratitude. she sends you a smile so hopeful that you nearly forget the desperate state you're in - the heavy fear of starting new.

"we'll find you a good one. you're smart, marketable, charming..." Michelle shakes her head as you move to protest, pointing at you. "-no, don't even start. we'll get you some more interviews. in the meantime...Dan and I were thinking. we have a couple hundred we could spare this month, just to..." she glances at your shocked stare, shrugging her shoulders. "-you know, get you on your feet. it's not easy to restart, especially after a breakup."

your heart drops at her words, a crawling feeling of shame licking your throat as you shake your head.

eyes stinging, you stare down hard at your keyboard, where your nails pick at the F key. "I couldn't- I couldn't ask that of you. thank you, but I-" you shake your head. "don't do that, really Michelle."

she waves her hand, "we insist. but Dan wants to discuss it in person, so we'll be having you over for dinner soon, okay?" she insists, and you hide your burning face between your hands. "this is too much." you say with a grumble, shaking your head.

"think of it as a gift." she says hopefully with a shrug. "your birthday's soon, isn't it?"

you sigh, smiling over at her as you shake your head. "at least let me do something for you in repayment. do you need any rooms painted? gardening? babysitting?" you offer, sliding slightly towards her to take a sip of her coffee.

"we'll talk about it." she agrees, but you know she isn't going to ask you to do any of it; she and her husband are much too kind.

at your silence she just hums triumphantly, typing away on her keyboard as she files a damaged book report. the library hums with its inherent stillness, the fluorescents flickering as you busy yourself filing your own work for the evening.

five whole minutes pass in silence; a feat for you and the woman who sits just beside you. as you work idly, your eyes jump back to the payphone on the wall across the room where you'd heard the words: thank you for your interest, but we decided to go with another candidate.

whatever. they don't deserve you, anyways. and honestly, the job had shitty benefits.

a sharp sigh from you gives Michelle the narrow opportunity to swivel her chair to face you, as if she'd been waiting for an opportunity to speak.

"you know," she puts on the look of innocence, "I was thinking..."

you fix her with a look - the last few suggestions for money she'd given you were take up dancing (which you would certainly consider, if the nearest club wasn't fourteen miles away) or marry rich. for a woman who's still with the same man she was with in high school, she sure has an imaginative mind.

you're a month away from losing your new apartment and you cannot fathom moving back in with your ex; you'll take anything. Michelle holds her hands out in defense at your glare. "listen, Norah's got a teammate whose father is looking for a nanny."

you let the words sink in as you spin your chair to her in interest. nanny?

"-he owns a construction business. he mentioned looking for a nanny for weekdays at the girls' tournament last Saturday."

you sigh, touched that she'd thought of you, but exasperated. "I work weekdays!" you sigh. she lifts a brow, leaning closer, "yes, but..." she looks around conspiratorially, "-I think Joel would give you higher pay - and you can still work here on weekends."

your brows raise in shock, hope growing in your chest. "what, is he loaded?"

at this, she laughs.

you blink as she holds a hand to her chest, chuckling to herself, leaving you unaware of whatever was so funny to her. "no, no." she calms herself as you stare, less amused. "-but he loves his girl. definitely the type of man who will pay well to make sure his baby's safe."

your lip is tugged between your teeth as you consider; "kids don't really like me."

it’s not even true- kids love you as much as you love them, but something self-sabotaging within you begs to differ.

Michelle snorts, "Norah loves you." she counters; you cross your arms, "well, that's different. she's, like, an eleven year old version of you."

she grins at this; Michelle has known you since you were a sophomore, just freshly out of the dorms - she may be older than you by over a decade and a half, but she and her husband are the closest to family you have in this part of the country.

you nod. "please, will you give him my information? I need any money I can get. I'll be the best nanny in the world."

you're convincing yourself more than her, but she smiles all the same. "I'll see him when I pick Norah up after practice this afternoon. I'll share your number with him, okay?"

you have the next day off of work; you spend it unpacking some boxes and organizing, taking a walk around the new neighborhood, trying to befriend the building cat with a can of tuna.

you watch people pass in the street, distracting yourself from the disappointment of leaving your old neighborhood, even if it'd been infested by your cheating ex.

the opportunity to nanny this summer lingers in the back of your mind as you walk past a park, watching as the kids clamber and scream and laugh; you smile to yourself, watching a young mother push a child on the swing.

sometime past noon, an unknown number texts your cellphone and you pause the TiVo to flip it open eagerly.

Hey there, it's Joel Miller. Our mutual friend Michelle passed along your number. I've been looking for a nanny for my daughter and heard great things about you. Would you be open to chatting sometime this week? I'd love to discuss a nannying opportunity with Sarah. Let me know if that works for you.

Thanks, Joel

you stare at the words, reading them slowly with a pounding of excitement in your chest. suddenly, the walls of your new, too-expensive apartment seem brighter, the sun opens up the sky - you nearly call Michelle in a burst of excitement before even thinking of a response.

an inkling of doubt pulls at the back of your head; the man seems kind enough - even if he texts like he's a hundred years old, Michelle and Dan know him personally. you slide your phone, staring at the phone screen for a moment before starting to type out a response.

Hi Joel! Nice to hear from you, thanks for reaching out. I'd be happy to meet this week to chat about Sarah and nannying opportunities. I am available in the evenings most days, so if there's any time that works best for you, I can make that happen.

knuckles cramping, you roll your eyes at your effort to be professional over text. you tweak your message several times before signing your name, shutting your eyes, and hitting the send button.

Joel doesn't respond until very late; nearly eleven in the evening, suggesting a time later in the week and telling you his address. Michelle is ecstatic for you, even helping you draft up ways to tell your boss you'll be going part-time in a professional way; it's accepted gracefully, and now all you have to do is hope this Joel Miller can pay enough.

he hires you an hour after meeting up.

to your relief, his daughter Sarah is a darling; big eyes and a bright smile that hides no malicious intent or snobbery. your anxiety slipped away the moment Joel opens their front door, replaced instead with flustered surprise in your lower belly at the man who stood before you.

why hadn't Michelle at least warned you?

he's taller than you'd imagined, and much more handsome; his dark hair is slightly tousled, a faint hint of stubble framing his jawline, biceps defined by a dark gray shhirt. he's curt but chivalrous, voice a low baritone and veins that trickle up his thick forearms golden skin glowing as he talks.

and jesus christ, his eyes - the memory of how they'd scaled over your body, taking you in as you'd stood in the dying sunlight on his doorstep that first time. dragging slowly, eyes dark and shrouded by long lashes, as you'd introduced yourself. how he'd cleared his throat and let you through with a half smile and a nod.

you'd had to try your hardest to keep your eyes on his as he explained he'd need you most weekdays because he has several new projects and has been working longer hours recently.

it took Sarah all of a minute and a half of shyness and hiding behind her father's leg before you showed her your tamagotchi; immediately after, she decided you were new best friends - with her hand in yours, she eagerly showed around the house in a half-intentional tour, pointing out the best hide and seek spots and showing you her collection of toys.

by the end of the evening, Joel was shaking your hand and agreeing on a bi-weekly payment much higher than you'd expected.

he'd insisted on walking you to your beat-up car, smiling as he opened your driver's door with a shrug - it's dark out, don't want to let my new sitter walk alone at night, do I?

you'd tried your hardest to keep your thoughts professional, but the moment your head fell to your pillow that night, you knew you were fucked.

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up next: chapter 01 ; as long as you don't care there is no longer a taglist; follow @tremendumnotifs to be notified when i post.

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#joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller series #heaven is a place on earth; tremendum

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madamsnape921 · 2 months

Text

Phone Help

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader

WC: 2557

Warning: f/f smut; I really went out of my comfort zone for this one but I think it turned out okay; my husband deserves a shout out for his help of writing this one: Thank you, Nick!

Tags: @alwaysachorusgirl @beccabarba @storiesofsvu

You had just started your first month at Quantico, not exactly your dream job but it provided a steady income and federal benefits. It was a relief to be able to afford a two-bedroom apartment in the city after your recent relationship ended. However, the agents were a challenge. They were arrogant, thinking they were the ultimate saviors, and their actions reflected that attitude.

“YN?”

As you snap out of your self-absorbed tirade, you notice one of the top members from the Behavioral Analysis Unit standing in front of you, looking just as perplexed as you feel. Why is she here? You wonder to yourself.

“Yes, Agent…?” you look for a nametag.

“Prentiss. Emily Prentiss. I am with the BAU. So, hey. Our normal tech person is not keen on doing our personal phones. She mentioned I should come to the new girl, which I am assuming is you, to help me?”

You despised phone work. Actually, you loathed it. But you knew that earning some brownie points with a senior agent could be beneficial in the future. So, you forced yourself to answer the call and politely responded, "Of course, Agent Prentiss. What can I assist you with?"

“The phone is acting slow and I can’t seem to find any of my files,” she hands you a card. “YN, here is my work number. Call me when you figure it out?”

“Sure. I’ll look at it here and then I’ll see what I can…,” you started.

I'd rather not use agency time or equipment for this task. The data on my device is personal and I don't want anyone else to have access to it. One of my close friends happens to be a top-notch hacker, so she probably has something lurking around in there.”

Prentiss gave a nod and then exited your office. She walked away with ease, her sensible pantsuit moving smoothly with each step.

After a grueling day at work, you finally reach your apartment. Your fingers are still warm from typing on the keyboards as you touch the doorknob. You step inside and are greeted by your faithful feline companions. "Sorry guys, Mom has to fix a friend's phone."

A friend's phone? That was unexpected, you thought.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down at your computer, confident that this task will not take too much time. All I need to do is scan the phone for any harmful files and reinstall everything. It should be a piece of cake, you think to yourself. After completing the scan and finding everything to be in order, you give Agent Prentiss a call, relieved by the ease of the process.

“Hey, Agent Prentiss, it’s YN. Your phone is finishing up now. If you want to head down I can text you my address.”

“YN, that would be fantastic! Thank you for being so efficient,” Prentiss exclaimed. “I'll be at your residence in 15 minutes.”

“How do you know that?” you asked.

“I’m with the government. I know everything,” Prentiss joked.

After completing the scan, you realize that there is an issue. The program alerts you to the presence of a malicious app on the phone, Calculator PlusPlus. You launch the app and it prompts for a password. Using your own knowledge, you successfully crack the password and let out a triumphant laugh, "Take that, Penelope."

The next thing you see are numerous pictures of nude women, all with the same hair color and style as you. This must be what's taking up all the storage space on the phone, along with all of the data. You panic when you hear a knock at the door.

“YN, it’s Emily. I’m here about my phone,” Prentiss called from the hall.

DOUBLE SHIT. MINIMIZE MINIMIZE MINIMIZE! SHIT it’s frozen. SHITSHITSHIT.

“YN, I thought it was ready,” Prentiss knocked again.

After hearing a knock at your door, you call out "Coming!" and get up to answer it. You open the door to see Agent Prentiss standing there.

"Hey there, Agent Prentiss. Please come in," you say with a smile, dressed in your comfortable lounge pants and cat mom tank top.

“Please call me Emily, we’re not at work.” You close the door behind her, her in the same suit from work.

“Please sit. Do you want something to drink?” you offer.

“I’ll have a beer. It’s been hell with the BAU.” She sits on your couch and begins to pet one of your cats. “Beautiful cats, YN!”

“Thanks, they’re my babies,” you smile.

You grab the beer from the fridge and pop it open, handing it to Prentiss. As you both relax and chat about work and other small talk, an hour and a half quickly passes by. Suddenly, you remember something and say, "Oh, your phone! It's in my room. I'll go get it for you."

Upon entering your room, you find the computer still frozen on a picture of a nude woman. The figure resembles you, but not entirely. It's almost like a lower-quality version of yourself. You are immediately jolted by the realization that these intimate images are displayed prominently on your oversized screen.

“Oh, I see you found the Calculator PlusPlus App…,” Prentiss whispered.

“OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORRY. I was trying to find any malicious apps and I cracked this one’s code and…. I wasn’t snooping. I promise,” you apologised.

“I believe you, but you know what this means, right” Prentiss scowled.

“No…,” you said in response.

Prentiss puts her hand on her gun holster, “I’ll have to kill you to keep my secret safe.”

The room fell silent, and Prentiss let out a chuckle. "Just kidding," she said with a smirk. "Just put them back and don't tell anyone. I have a type...smart, dark-haired girls like yourself."

The phone was too easy to fix. Would she… she wouldn’t.

Prentiss gently brushed your hair and whispered, "We can keep another secret just between us, if you'd like." Your face paled as she tenderly kissed your lips. You had never been with a woman before, let alone one as stunning as her. Feeling unsure of yourself, you tentatively kissed her back, unsure of what to do next.

“Do you want to do this, YN?”

You nod your head.

Prentiss continued to kiss you softly. Mostly on the center of your mouth, but then switching to the left and the right sides, keeping you guessing. You felt yourself become weak in the knees.

“Let’s sit on the bed, YN.”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss.”

You both sat on the bed and continued to kiss. Prentiss’ hands exploring your body. Your mind and your arms begin to open up.

“Good girl, YN. Take off my jacket.”

You obey the orders given to you, carefully removing her jacket and placing it on the chair next to the bedside table. She sits there, still wearing a sleeveless blouse and her gun holster.

“Now take off your top, YN.”

You cautiously remove your top, wondering how she has such control over you. Your breasts are now exposed to the cool air, and the intense energy in the room causes your nipples to harden. Suddenly, a soft yet firm suction envelops your left nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You've had boyfriends do this before, but never a woman. Prentiss continues to knead and suck on your breast while gently stroking your hair, creating an overwhelming sense of bliss.

Prentiss stopped and moved to the other breast. It was just as amazing. However, you where brought out of bliss with a sharp bite. “Ow,” you moaned.

“Pay attention,” Prentiss stated.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you moaned again.

Prentiss finished with that breast and stood up and removed her shirt, bra, and gun holster. “Now you do me,” she smiled.

You attempted to replicate Prentiss’ actions on her, but your efforts fell short. Prentiss chuckled and giggled as you struggled, until you accidentally bit down too hard. She stopped and got up. You panicked.

“Pants off. Now!” Prentiss ordered.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you jumped to your feet and stripped. She stood there and watched you sit back on the bed.

“Lay back.” You did as you were told. “Now don’t cum until I say or I will have to leave. Understand?”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you sigh.

Prentiss flashed a sly smile before sinking to her knees. From this new vantage point, she spotted a drawer slightly open and couldn't help but peek inside. She found a small vibrating wand tucked away and placed it beside her feet. Starting at your thighs, she lavished kisses leading up to your glistening womanhood. You let out a soft moan as she got closer to your sensitive areas. With deft fingers, she parted your lips and exposed you fully to the world. "I bet your ex never did this," she said with a hint of smugness. "And I guarantee it won't be this good with anyone else."

Prentiss pressed her tongue against the sensitive spot above your clit, applying a constant and firm pressure. At the same time, she used her thumbs to press into your lips, causing a rush of sensation to flood through your body. It was a new experience for you, and you couldn't help but gasp in response. With a smile, Prentiss continued her oral exploration, slowly moving down from the flat spot towards your hood. She flicked her tongue gently against your hood, alternating between soft and medium pressure while also pulsing on your opening and lips. Your moans of pleasure grew louder with each movement she made.

“Don’t cum, YN. Don’t be a bad cadet!”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss, I will be a good cadet.” Cadet, where did that come from?!

Prentiss started licking your clit. This licking was a continued game of alternate pressures and circular licking. You hear a vibrator turn on.

SHIT! SHE FOUND MY STASH!

Prentiss moaned.

“You naked girl, spread out for me, huh?” She did two licks around your clit. “Mmm, who’s wearing the pants, cadet?”

“You are, Agent Prentiss.”

“And who is the naked slut, cadet?”

“I am the naked slut, Agent Prentiss.”

“Who’s in command of this pussy, cadet?”

“Agent Prentiss is the commander of this pussy.”

Prentiss then takes the vibrator and places it firmly on your clit. You start to buck. You are so close. You don’t want her to leave. Prentiss then takes two fingers and slides them into you, putting sudden and strong pressure on you G-Spot.”

“What do you want, cadet?”

“To cum, Agent Prentiss.”

“You may cum, as long as you ask nicely.”

“May I cum, Agent Prentiss?”

“Nicer.”

“May I please cum, Agent Prentiss?”

With that she presses hard against your clit with the vibrator and your g-spot with her fingers. You quake as a hard, loud, and wet orgasm rolled through you. You feel shaking and the last thing you see before passing out is a smiling Prentiss.

You came to and found Prentiss taking her phone from your computer. She is now fully dressed.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty seconds or so. I got you a glass of water. It’s on your table. I’m going to leave, wheels up in the morning.”

“If you need any more phone help, let me know.”

“Oh, next time I need phone help I’ll make sure you do all the work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can feel every thrust deep inside you. Each one makes a distinctive thud and shlick sound. Your orgasm is building, getting closer with every movement. You tightly grip onto the strapon as it fills you up. Nothing has ever felt as unyielding and solid as this before. The plug in your backside grinds against the bright red toy, adding to the intense pleasure of being penetrated.

“Come for me, Cadet.” Prentiss demanded.

You feel the grip of orgasm squeeze you tightly and pleasure erupts from within your core. Your body trembles and shivers as a powerful orgasm overcomes you. As it subsides, you take a moment to catch your breath.

"That was incredible," you exclaimed with gratitude.

"Rocking a holster isn't the only thing I'm good at," Prentiss replied with a sly grin on her face.

She gently pulls out your plug and carefully cleans you up with a towel from the bedside table. You thank her with a smile as she helps you stand up and put on a robe. Prentiss starts to get dressed, putting on her panties first before reaching for her pants.

“Why don’t we spend the day together? We can watch a movie?” You suggested.

“YN, we just finished fucking… you don’t need to ask me for a “movie” to watch,” she laughed.

“No really, Emily, stay with me.”

You two have been fucking feverishly and often in a kinky mist of desire and need for a few weeks at this point. Emily was not an odd name to call her, but it was new. You didn’t know if you should call her that or Prentiss.

“Why? We both finished and I’m sure you’re busy today. As am I.” Prentiss declared.

“Actually, it’s Saturday… at 11 am. I’m off today. Aren’t you? Or am I a lunchtime snack?” you smiled.

“You’re definitely satisfying my appetite,” she replied with a coy smile.

I stood up from the bed and handed her a shirt.

“So, we have underwear and shirts covered… I’ll grab some drinks. You can choose the movie.” You suggested.

Prentiss strolled into the living room and switched on Netflix while you headed towards the kitchen. You grabbed her favorite European beer from the fridge, excited for the chance to surprise her. Balancing both beverages in your hands, you made your way back to the couch where Prentiss had already pulled up "Une vie de chat," a French cartoon about a cat.

You sit down and offer her the beer.

“Thank you! This is my favorite beer! It’s only at that one German store downtown. How’d you know?”

“You mentioned it once. I thought it’d be a nice treat,” you smiled.

As the cat's misadventures unfold, you realize that you and Prentiss have gravitated towards each other on the spacious couch. You rest your head on her shoulder as you continue to watch the show together.

As she begins to say, "This is my favorite..." you rest your head on her shoulder. Emily grins and gently kisses the top of your forehead. It's a new experience for both of you, but it feels natural and perfect in that moment. Your stomach flutters with excitement, but it's a pleasant sensation that matches the rhythm of your heart. It's a mix of thrilling and serene feelings all at once.

"Emily, this is really nice," you say with a smile.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, YN. It's been a while since I've felt this relaxed. I could definitely get used to this," she replies, returning the smile.

"I have a proposition for you. In here, I have my Emily and in there..." you start, but she interrupts with a knowing smile.

"...you have Agent," she finished your sentence. You try to hide in her embrace, but she finds you anyway.

"Yes, YN, you can have your Emily out here and your Agent in there," she confirmed, snuggling into you as you both fall asleep watching TV together.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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ssaaaronmontgomery · 1 year

Note

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

#criminalskies!!#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #request #hotchner #mon answers 🩷

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xjaylyn · 2 months

Text

PART 3 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

a/n: It's a really long chapter like 2 chapters long because I will be out of town for a few days and probably wont have time to update. But I will try if I have some free time. Chapter 4 will be shorter.

"This is it,"

Mike pulls into an apartment complex. At a glance, you can tell it's a quiet place, slightly run down; not many people living here. Getting out of the car, the duo follows Armando to his unit. Unlocking the door, Armando steps inside and turns the light on, it flickering slightly for a second before focusing. His place is small, about the size of a hotel suite, with a small kitchen barely able to fit two people. Tight space but enough for someone who doesn't own much but himself anyway.

"I just need to pack some things and we can head out... don't touch nothing," Armando says while walking into his room. Still standing by the front door, Mike and Marcus look around the place.

"Barely looks lived in... well shit, at least he has a TV," Marcus says, walking towards the small couch to take a seat. Mike steps towards the kitchen, opening the small fridge to see barely anything in there: only a couple of water bottles and simple ingredients to make a sandwich, but that was it. Closing the door, he spots something in the corner on the counter: two small cut-out pictures. One of Armando's mother, Isabel, and one of him. Feeling his chest tighten, he gently places the photos back in the corner.

Hearing Armando walk back into the small space, he steps out of the kitchen. "Nephew, what games you play on here?" Marcus asks, pointing at the PlayStation lying next to the small TV.

Armando looks at the man, raises his brow, "why is that important?"

"Because if it's Call of Duty I'll whoop yo ass, what's your tag?" Adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder, Armando turns his body completely towards his uncle, "What's your rank?"

"Diamond 3 rank 2," Marcus says, crossing his arms.

Scoffing with a smirk on his face, Armando just shakes his head. Dropping his arms, Marcus furrows his brows, "what? What's so funny 'bout that?"

"Nothing, but you ain't whooping nobody ass with that weak ass rank," Armando says, walking up to the door.

"Oh, you a lil disrespectful motherfucker, alright, we gon' see 'bout that," Marcus follows behind him, pointing his finger at the young man walking out the door. "Mike, he just don't know how I do."

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

Four hours into the ride, the three of them sat in peaceful silence. Armando looks at the two in the front, Mike focused on driving and Marcus knocked out, snoring a little bit. Looking at his father, he decides to break the silence.

"What's the mission?" he asks.

Mike glances in the rearview mirror, "Apparently the biggest case the government has ever had... was told you might know something about it."

"I don't know why your people think I know it all, I only worked on what my mother told me to do... she's the one with the answers," Armando shrugs.

"Well, that's fine... we have someone that may know something to help us out... we're picking her up when we arrive in Miami."

Nodding his head, he looks down at the back seat noticing a file sitting beside him. "That's the case file, you can look through it and see if you find something you might recognize."

Picking up the file, he skims through everything. Besides the people he has worked with in the past, he's not sure about everything else. Shaking his head, he looks back up at his father, "Nah, I don't know."

Another silence falls upon the two. Clearing his throat, Mike decides to fill Armando in on the past 2 years. "Things have been normal since the last mission... thank you, by the way, for helping clear Cap's name-"

"I didn't have much of a choice," Armando interrupts, raising a brow.

"Yeah, well, thank you anyway..." Another silence falls between the two. Clearing his throat, Mike decides to try for a conversation again. "You have a baby sister," Mike mentions, glancing at Armando through the rearview mirror to see his face.

Armando looks up at him, making eye contact but doesn't say a word.

"Yeah, uh, she just turned one yesterday... cutest thing too... she loves anybody that gives her food," Mike laughs. Dropping his hand, he digs in his pocket for his wallet. Opening it up, he reaches back to give it to Armando.

Taking the wallet from him, Armando sees a picture of a baby girl. 'Cute.' Mike notices how Armando's face slightly softens. It wasn't a big facial expression, but you can tell it did something to him. Looking at the picture a little more, his attention looks down to another photo, it was old... one of him as a baby. Closing the wallet, he hands it back to his father.

"Congrats," Armando says, cutting the one-sided conversation to an end and looking out the window watching everything pass by.

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

...MIAMI...

Finally arriving at their destination, Mike pulls into the private base, security guarding every corner. Stopping at the gate, Mike and Marcus show their badges. The guard nods and lets them through. Getting out of the car, the three notice Chief Paul Nicola and a couple of guards walking towards them.

"Glad to see you all are here. This way, please," Paul extends his arm out, leading the small group into the private building. "For the past six months, we have kept our informant in max security... she was found in uniform so she is to be kept chained up as we do not know exactly what she is capable of. She has agreed to only speak to the people working with her to negotiate a deal," Paul says while scanning his ID to enter a private area in the building.

Stopping at a door, Paul turns to the trio. "Please don't fuck this up."

Allowing the men to step into the room, there's only one source of light from a small window making it dim. In the center of the room, they see a table and a person sitting down completely covered head to toe in chains that are bolted into the floor—securely fastened to ensure no way to escape.

The trio takes a seat at the table. A guard standing in the corner walks up to unlock the headlock. The sound of the metal mask dropping to the floor echoes through the room. She has a disheveled look to her: curly hair matted and covering some of her features, faded bruises on her face, and a busted lip. Looking into her eyes, they see she is scared and nervous. She stares at the men in front of her uncertainly.

Marcus clears his throat and softly speaks up, "Okay... I'm Detective Marcus Burnett and this is my partner Detective Mike Lowery and Armando." He points to his left and right where Mike nods at her and Armando just stares. "We know you know something that we need to know to get this shit together. So what is it that you need us to do for us to help each other?" Marcus asks, cutting straight to the chase.

The woman continues to stare at the men in front of her before nodding her head towards the guard behind her. "Get him out first."

Looking up at the guard, Mike waves his hand in a shooing motion. "We'll be good, sir," smiling at the guard who hesitates for a second before stepping out. Hearing the heavy door close, she starts, "I need one thing guaranteed to me."

"Layla Batiste... I need one of you to free her... she should be in the 7th cell on the right. Free her and give her anything she needs to make a living," the woman says, her voice shaking a bit.

"Okay, and who is this Layla? Why do we need to free her?" Mike questions.

"My sister... just agree to do that and we have a deal," she pleads, looking at Mike. "And write it down too so you don't forget... Layla Bat-"

"Batiste, 7th cell on the right. Yeah, I got it," Mike says, leaning back in his chair. "Done. Now, what do you know? Actually, what is your name before anything?"

Taking a breath, the woman sits back in her seat. "My name is Rya," she says.

"Okay, Rya, what do you know?"

"Do we have a deal?" Rya presses.

"Yes, we have a deal. We free Layla and you help us. Done. Sealed," Marcus says, leaning forward on the table. Armando just sits back with his arms crossed, watching the whole ordeal.

"You were captured by our military in a uniform... what were you doing in uniform?" Marcus questions.

Rya looks at Marcus then looks down. "I have been a prisoner since I was 10... a way for my parents to pay their debt... he sends us on missions as decoys... I was sent there as a distraction and ended up being caught."

Armando raises a brow at her wording, leaning forward to make his presence known. "Who's he?" he asks, looking at her with a hard expression.

Looking up, Rya makes eye contact with the brown eyes staring at her. She can tell he is studying her, looking for any reason not to trust her and her words. "A man named Sergio... he's dangerous and powerful. His family for decades has been a part of this big project to take over the world. For reasons I don't know... I just know his kind is powerful... and it's not just him. He has the military, doctors, scientists, judges, governments in different countries working for him. Any influence you can think of, he has someone there working for him. It's a world operation that has been growing nonstop... he's just the center of it."

The three men look at the girl in front of them and then at each other, taking in the information given to them. Mike looks back at the girl. "So why help us... what's in it for you?" he questions. She pauses for a second. "No one wants to be locked up and held captive for the rest of their life... this is my only chance and I can't do it by myself. I need your help." She looks at the men in front of her, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Hey, we are here to help as long as you can help us... you said he has connections everywhere... is there any place that you know that we can look into to gather evidence or something?" Marcus asks. Rya nods her head, closing her eyes to hold the tears back. "He has these liquid drops he's creating that's a mixture of different drugs and chemicals... there's a place on the strip... an abandoned lot that no one looks into, that's where he makes some of it."

"You know the exact place and where these drops would be?" Mike asks. Rya nods her head yes.

Slapping his hands on the table, Mike stands up looking down at the young girl. "Well, let's take a look at his little operation and make some shit happen." The three men make their way out of the room. Paul, standing in the hall on his phone, looks up as he hears the door open. Quickly putting his phone away, he walks towards the trio. "So what do we got?" He asks, putting his hands in his pocket, looking back and forth at them.

"The man we're looking for is Sergio. His family is the center of this operation and has connections everywhere. She said there's a secret lab on the strip. Claims he's making liquid drops laced with different drugs. We're gonna check it out and build up the case," Marcus says.

"Okay, good, we have something... I'm going to release her to you guys. Make sure she is protected at all costs. We can't afford to lose her," Paul tells them before walking off.

"Well... now we're babysitting... great."

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

Walking out of the building, Paul and two guards on each side of Rya, her hands and feet cuffed. She looks up at the sky, squinting her eyes, and takes a deep breath, finally getting fresh air and light after being confined in a tight cell for 6 months. Looking down, she sees the three men from earlier standing by a car, waiting for her. She wasn't lying when she said Sergio is a dangerous man... his nickname to the people was "The Devil". With the type of connections he has, it's considered damn near impossible to take him down. But still, with the right people and enough evidence... there's a chance. She can only hope she made the right choice and that those three are the ones that can help her.

Feeling a slight tug, her body is forced to a stop. The guard on the right unlocks the cuffs on her feet. Leaving the handcuffs on, he hands the keys to Mike. "The hands are to remain locked." Mike nods, opening the back door to the car. Rya gets in, the door closing behind her. Looking out, she can see Paul exchange a few words with the men before the car doors open and they get in.

"We're going to the station to meet with the team. There you can change and we'll run down everything. Okay?" Mike says, looking back at her in the back seat.

Nodding her head, she feels eyes on her and turns her head to the right, seeing Armando staring at her. She looks him up and down, raising her brow when he doesn't look away. She hears Marcus speak from the front. "Don't worry about him," Marcus says, looking at the two in the back. "He's in his moody teenage phase where he hates his life and everyone in it..." He whispers to Rya. Furrowing his brows, Armando breaks their eye contact by slowly turning his head towards Marcus. "He'll get over it... eventually he tolerates you," Marcus winks at Rya and looks at Armando. "You ever eventually shut the hell up?" Armando asks, causing Mike and Marcus to look at him surprised. "Whoooa," Marcus exclaims, looking at his partner. Mike looks at Armando, "Hey, too much."

Armando rolls his eyes and looks at Rya one more time before he looks away and out the window. "You hear how he talks to me, Mike?... Just no respect for his elders!" Marcus whines from the front seat. "Yeah, I heard him..." The two continue to go back and forth. Rya raises a brow at the dynamic between the people she was put with. Glancing over at Armando, seeing him in his own world, she leans over into the corner of her seat, laying her head back. 'What the hell did I get myself into?'

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

...Miami Precinct...

Stepping out of the shower, Rya wraps her towel around her body and walks over to the locker room mirror. She was able to wash her hair and brush it out, leaving it down to air dry. Wiping the mirror, she looks a little more like herself. The scars and light bruises all over her body are still visible, serving as a reminder of what she had to go through. Shaking her head, she looks over at the folded clothes given to her and quickly puts them on. It's a simple Miami PD t-shirt and black cargos along with black socks, comfortable enough to move around in. Slipping on her shoes, she walks out into the foyer where everybody was waiting for her.

Looking up from the computer, Mike claps his hands and points to Rya. "Everyone, this is Rya, our informant. Rya, this is Rita, the boss, and Kelly and Dorn. They are our tech kids, formally known as AMMO," he says, pointing at everyone. They all wave at her with a small smile, causing her to nod her head in acknowledgment.

Marcus walks up to her with her handcuffs. "Sorry, but they said at all times," he looks at her apologetically, putting the cuffs on her.

"Alright, I have the map of the entire strip. I marked up the abandoned buildings. I just need you to point it out for us," Dorn says, walking up to the table in the middle and laying the map flat on it.

Rya skims over the map. "This one," she says, pointing at a building.

"You sure?"

"Yes, it's that one," she says, looking up at the team.

"Alright, here's the plan," Mike starts. "Rya, you are going to go in and grab a sample of the drops. Grab anything you think we might need that can be used as evidence."

Rya looks at Mike, her eyes widened. "By myself?!" she asks.

"No, uh, Armando will go with you to make sure nothing happens to you. The rest of the team will be watching on the drones, so there's no need to worry."

Calming down a little bit, Rya nods her head. "Okay."

"Armando, you good with that?" Mike asks, looking back at his son who was standing in the back of the room. Armando shrugs and walks off.

"Okay. Well, the plan is set. Let's get ready."

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

...3 Hours Later...

"Alright, can you hear me?" Dorn asks, looking at Armando and Rya who both wore protective gear and their earpieces. Both of them nod their heads as they make their way out of the truck.

"Alright, we'll be right behind you guys. Just grab a sample and get out safely," Rita says, looking at the two before closing the truck door.

Armando starts to walk toward the building, not paying Rya any attention. Rolling her eyes, Rya follows behind, picking up her pace to catch up to him. "Alright, we'll enter first to make sure it's clear," she heard Dorn say into the earpieces. Watching the drone fly into the building a couple of minutes later, she hears Dorn clear them to enter.

Walking into the building, there were broken pieces of glass and boarded-up openings. "You know where the stuff is at, right?" Armando questions, looking back at Rya.

"Yeah, it should be a little further down in a locked room," she replies. Making their way around the building, the two end up at a dead end.

"It's a dead end," Armando says, looking at the wall.

"No, it's just made to look that way," Rya corrects him.

Armando looks at Rya for a second before looking back at the wall. Stepping back a little, he kicks at the wall, and it easily crumbles, revealing a laboratory full of different substances. Skimming the room before stepping in, Armando picks up a bag full of white pills. "Opioids?" Armando mumbles, setting the bag back down. Watching Armando look around the place, Rya sneaks her still cuffed hands into her pocket, pulling out a flash drive. Looking around, she sees a desk off in the corner with a computer on it.

"Where are the drops?" Armando asks, looking back at her.

Quickly hiding the flash drive in her palm, she looks back at Armando and clears her throat.

"It should be in a case or one of these tubes," she says, stepping into the room.

Walking around, she makes her way towards the computer, quickly putting the flash drive in and pressing a button to turn on the computer. Looking back up to make sure Armando was still looking around, she presses around until she sees a downloading screen. Quickly walking away from the computer to look around.

"What are you doing?" She hears Armando question, staring at her.

"Looking for the drops, it should be around here somewhere," she replies, glancing around and noticing a small black case sitting on top of a shelf.

Lifting her cuffed hands, she points at the case.

"There, I think that's it."

Walking over, Armando picks up the case and places it on the counter. Unlocking it, he opens it to see a bunch of little tubes full of a liquid labeled 'OPP.M'. Glancing at Rya, who is looking at the tubes, he grabs one of the tubes and puts it in his pocket.

"Alright, let's go."

Suddenly, a beeping sound goes off.

"What is that?" Armando says, and Rya looks over at the computer.

Quickly walking over, she sees an error displayed on the screen.

"Shit," she mumbles, quickly grabbing the flash drive. She feels Armando grab her shoulder roughly, causing her to turn towards him.

"What the fuck is that?" His face hardens.

"Guys, we have people coming in," Kelly speaks into the earpiece.

All of a sudden, a man fully covered in black with a gold star stitched on his vest comes in firing at the two. Armando swiftly dodges, pulling Rya with him. Getting pushed under the counter, Rya watches as Armando grabs the man, making him stumble. Taking his gun away from him, Armando shoots the man.

More men in black come into the room. Armando fights each one coming at him. Watching him get outnumbered, Rya runs out, taking her cuffed hands and grabbing one of the men from behind, choking him with the chain.

Turning around, she takes the man with her, using him as a shield as one of the other men tries to shoot at her. Dropping his body, she drops to her knee, sliding across the floor, picking up a gun and shooting the men coming towards her. Running out of ammo, she runs up to one of the men, dodging the bullets before hitting him with the butt of the gun.

Grabbing one of the glass flasks on the desk, she breaks it and picks up the sharpest piece. A man comes up to her, throwing a punch. She strategically maneuvers, causing him to fall forward and land on the desk. Stabbing the man a few times in the back, she then turns around and slices the neck of another man coming towards her. A few minutes pass of her and Armando fighting, the last body dropping. She looks up at Armando, slightly roughed up and out of breath, already staring at her. Looking down at her bloody cuffed hands, she drops the piece of glass.

"What the fuck?" she hears Mike in her earpiece. Taking a breath, she looks back up at Armando.

"We got what we need, let's go," she says before turning around and walking out of the room, Armando following behind, glaring at her.

Making her way out of the building, she sees the doors of the truck open up, the team looking at her and Armando coming over. Stepping into the truck, she makes her way over to Dorn's computer and screens. "hey thats my seat" Dorn says pointing at her.

"What the fuck was that?" Marcus says, furrowing his brows and looking at Rya with his arms open.

Armando sits on the seat, unstrapping his vest. "Clearly your informant isn't just an informant," he says, glaring at her.

Rolling her eyes, she pulls out the flash drive from her pocket and swiftly inserts it into the computer, a bunch of files popping up. "Hey, who the fuck are you? Because that wasn't the same helpless girl that was crying and shit, pleading for us to help her back at the prison?!" Marcus says, pulling her shoulder back, forcing her to face the team, all looking at her with confusion apparent on their faces.

"You got some explaining to do," Mike says, crossing his arms.

Staring back at the team, Rya leans back in the chair. 'Well, shit.'

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!):

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno

#armando aretas #armando imagine #armando x reader #bad boys #armando aretas x black reader #armando aretas x reader #bad boys second chances #jacob scipio #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #will smith #martin lawrence #armando aretas x black!oc

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dancingtotuyo · 29 days

Text

Summer of '03

Joel Miller x Female Reader | A Woman Story

Rating: Pg- 13

Summary: The first time Joel sees you as the woman you've become.

Tags/Warnings: age gap (13ish years), baby sitter, consumption of alcohol, summer.

Notes: I'm calling this a bridge. A scene that happens in all the timelines and universes of my dear Woman Reader and Joel. Consider this the point of divergence. I wonder what happened with these two if the outbreak never happened? I suppose only time will tell... 😉

shoutout to @murder-wife and @guiltyasdave for beta reading! I love you both!

Words: 1412

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Joel isn’t sure why he came. The Randolf’s summer pool party is a block tradition, but Sarah is at camp this year. Meaning, he had every excuse in the book to get out of it but here he is, standing against the fence, beer in his hand, watching as the kids jump in and out endlessly as burgers and hot dogs sizzle on the grill and folks lay out in the sun.

It’s not that he dislikes these events. Maybe he finds them to draw on a little too long until people get just a little too sloppy drunk, but Joel has mastered the art of excusing himself early. He’s only a two minute walk down the street anyway. It’s just that there are usually other ways he would rather spend his Saturdays. He has a couple neglected projects calling his name in the garage, yet he still finds himself here. For tradition's sake, maybe? It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things he supposes.

Joel shoves his free hand in the pockets of his jeans, taking another sip of his beer. It’s hot outside as condensation drips from the bottle. He finishes it off, the label peeling off the bottle. His eyes scan back over the crowd. Most of the neighborhood is here and if they’re not, Joel expects to find them filing in soon.

He’s doing a second scan over the crowd when he makes eye contact with you across the pool. You’re sitting with a group of friends perched on a couple of lounge chairs with wine coolers in hand. Joel tries to think back to the last time he saw you. It must’ve been last summer before you headed out for your Senior year of college, the last time Tommy got himself into a bind and needed bailing out.

You wave to him, offering up a smile and he returns the gesture with a tip of his bottle before you’re pulled back into conversation with your friends. Joel can’t help but notice a slight change in you over the past couple of years. He supposes it’s the growth from teen to adult. You graduated this past spring. He remembers Sarah talking about it, how excited she was for you when you landed the ER job.

Someone calls Joel’s name, pulling his attention away from you.

You’re only pretending to listen as your friend Mandy rattles on about her recent hook up. Usually, you’d be interested in the details she’s providing, but Joel Miller has you distracted. You had hoped you would be past the silly crush at this point in your life, but your eyes track him relentlessly. Watching as he makes idle conversation with some of the dad’s on the block. You wonder how he’s wearing jeans in this heat. You don’t mind. They make his ass look good.

You’re an adult with a job now continuing to harbor feelings from highschool seems silly, but there’s that little voice in your head now, the one that says you’re old enough now.. You’re an adult now. You’ve entered the workforce. You try to block out that voice. Joel Miller is not what you need, but you still want him.

“Hey!” Mandy snaps her fingers in front of your face, pulling you back to the group.

“Sorry, what did I miss?” You adjust your sunglasses, taking a sip of your drink as you make a concentrated effort to stay present with your friends.

“Are you still hung up on the DILF?” Maryanne teases.

“DILF? Where?” Whitney pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, looking over the flock of people.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as Mandy points him out. Whitney is less and subtle. “You grew up with THAT across the street?”

“Will you be quiet? Someone is gonna hear you.” You swat at your friends.

“I’m just saying, I understand the crush now.”

“I don’t have a crush on him anymore.” You lie through your teeth and you’re bad at it.

Mandy rolls her eyes. “Yeah right.”

“He is very handsome,” Maryanne adds.

You finish off your drink. “Can we stop ogling him now? He’s gonna catch y’all.”

“Really? You’ve been doing it for years, we can’t for five minutes?” Mandy winks.

“From the woman who told me she didn’t see it.”

“Hey! I’m older and wiser now,” Mandy says.

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your eyes from wandering to the man of the hour. You really need to get over this crush. “I’m going to cool off.” You finish off your wine cooler, dropping your cover up before jumping into the pool before your friends can reply.

Joel lost count of his drinks around number three or four. He’s pacing himself, but between the heat and the ease in which his drinks are going down, he’s feeling the easy buzz of the beer. He’s stayed longer than he ever intended to, but he’s okay with that.

Joel wanders inside to use the bathroom. The AC feels nice on his sweat sheened skin. People gather in the kitchen, a couple walk through the house. There’s more people than he knows here. He’ll hand it to the Randolfs. They know how to throw a party.

He’s grateful to find the bathroom unoccupied, locking it behind him. He’s quick about his business, splashing cool water against his face and neck. It clears his mind some. He should head home soon. He’ll be grumpy if he doesn’t take some time to himself.

He’s barely flipped the lock when the door flies open, you falling in with it. He’s almost hit by the door yet somehow manages to catch you as well. You’re a fit of loose giggles as his arms wrap around your torso, meeting the sun warmed skin exposed by your bikini.

“Careful there, Sweetheart. You nearly took me out.” Joel can’t help the chuckle in his voice. He’s used to seeing you on the clock when you’re responsible for his child. This is a very different version of you, but he can’t help but find it endearing.

“Sorry.” You manage to straighten up, but even through the boozy haze, Joel’s touch sears against your skin. Your cheeks warm over and it’s from much more than the sun.

He smiles at you, helping you right yourself, but his hands stay against your back. Yours settle flat on his solid chest. “You get a little carried away?”

“Don’t tell my parents.” You barely manage to wink, making him laugh even harder.

“My lips are sealed.”

“Oh good,” You sigh in relief as if Joel just did you the biggest favor of your life and you’re not of legal drinking age. “You’re a good man, Joel.” You pat his chest.

“Thank you.”

“Can you leave now?”

“Sure thing.” He smiles at you, ensuring you’re stable on your feet before he slips by you, his searing touch gone.

The loss of his touch sobers your intoxicated body. You can’t help but watch him go, cotton t shirt stretching temptingly across his shoulders. Chills form on your sides, phantoms of his touch still teasing you. You watch the empty hall in front of you, replaying the moment in your head for longer than you’ll ever admit to anyone.

Joel lets out a long shaky breath as he walks right out the front door, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. It’s a quick walk home, even with the buzz of the alcohol in his veins. On the walk home, he attempts to clear his mind of what happened, but he can still feel your soft skin under his hands. He can smell the sweet mixture of sunscreen and you like you’re still in his arms.

When he makes it home, he still hasn’t flushed the sensations of you from his mind. The way you looked in that swimsuit, hugging you perfectly. He knows it’s wrong. It makes him a dirty old man. The more he tries, the more he thinks about it. The more he replays it in his mind. He has no right to think about you like this, to view you as desirable.

Joel takes another deep breath, resting his head against the front door. You called him a good man, but a good man doesn’t fall into this trap: the babysitter, the girl next door. He repeats that to himself. Girl. You’re a girl, but his brain keeps reminding him that you are a woman now.

Woman Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

#woman (joel miller)#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories #pedro pascal

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upat4amwiththemoon · 1 year

Note

Hey can I request a wanda x fem reader where wanda and reader are dating and wanda knows this sweet side of the reader but one day the avengers go on a mission and need reader’s help because she is a CEO of a company bigger than stark industries and she is all badass and destroys whomever the avengers need destroyed.would love nat, tony and reader friendship.

The CEO

Summary: Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1440

a/n: I’m sorry I don’t know how to be intimidating

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

“He’s not giving us anything.” Natasha walks into the room, where Wanda and Tony are watching the interrogation room. “He keeps asking for his lawyer.”

“Can’t you like,” Tony imitates punching sounds, “do that to get through to him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “At the end of the day, we don’t have hard evidence he is the behind the organization.”

A particular organization has been tormenting the Avengers for a long time now. They’ve started attacks against people and buildings, destroying many important properties and killing people. Yet, they have always hidden any possible leads.

Until now. They finally caught someone, Mr Blight. The group’s clean up crew made a mistake and left evidence on site, bringing the Avengers to him.

After bringing him to the compound for interrogation an hour ago, they’ve gotten nowhere. He’s smart, he knows what they can and can’t do, which is why they have to think something different before they run out of time.

Wanda stares at screen, deep in thought. “Where did you say he worked at?”

“He is one of the owners of the Blight Industries.” Tony glances at the file they have on him. It’s a thin file. “Do you know him?”

“I think his company works with Y/N’s company.”

“Miss bubblegum’s company?” He frowns, looking at the man though the monitor. “Really?”

“Oh, this’ll be fun.” Natasha grins. “She can help us, right?” She turns to Wanda.

Taking out her phone, Wanda starts texting her girlfriend. “Uh, yeah. I think she could help us.” She mumbles, a bit unsure on bringing her into an Avengers mission. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Wanda and Y/N have been dating for two months, they’re still in very much their honeymoon phase, neither really talking about work things. However, Natasha and Y/N have been friends for a long time. She actually introduced the couple to each other. She also still continuously reminds them of this, taking great pride into making their relationship happen.

“Oh, yeah. She’ll be able to crack him.”

Tony and Wanda both frown. “Am I missing something here?” He points at Natasha. “How will little miss sunshine help us?”

“You’ll be in for a treat.”

Tony pushes Mr Blight forward when the elevator comes to a stop. He is already looking nervous, he recognizes where they are. “Wait.” Tony looks around the building. “Why did neither of you tell me Y/N is the CEO of the biggest company in the US? I’ve been trying to get a meeting with the boss for ages about Stark Industries, but I always get a negative answer.”

Letting out a short laugh, Natasha leads them in front of Y/N’s office. “Maybe your company isn’t that important.” She mumbles, throwing him a look. Knocking on the door, she opens it for Mr Blight when a faint come in comes from the other side. “Don’t shake too much, she can sense fear.” Natasha whispers with a smirk when he walks past her.

Wanda furrows her brows, moving in front of the window. The blinds are mostly shut, but she can see inside the room through a small crack. Natasha and Tony move next to her, the latter being a lot less inconspicuous about snooping.

“Natasha, care to tell us how she’ll help us?”

“She breaks anyone who walks into that room.”

Y/N is working on her computer, completely ignoring Mr Blight walking into the room. He closes the door behind him, slowly making his voice towards the table.

He clears his throat, but Y/N pays no mind to it. “Should I- sit? Or, maybe..”

“What do you usually do when you walk inside someone else’s office, Mr Blight?” She finally lifts up her head from the screen.

Nodding, Mr Blight sits down to one of the chairs. He lays his hands on his lap, though he can’t stop moving them.

“We have been business partners for a long time, have we not, Mr Blight?” Y/N sits on her office chair with the perfect posture, her hands laying on the table. The look on her face is neutral, but terrifying.

Mr Blight clears his throat before answering, so Y/N wouldn’t hear it shake. “Yes, we have.”

“So,” sighing, Y/N shakes her head, “imagine my surprise when I hear you’ve made an enemy out of the Avengers.” She tilts her head, making Mr Blight gulp. “Do you understand how this looks like to my company, that I have worked so hard to build from the ground up?”

“I- I understand, Miss Y/L/N.”

“See, I don’t think you do.” She stands up, leaning closer to him. “You’re making this more difficult for everyone involved by not telling the truth.”

“Respectfully, Miss Y/L/N, I have spoken the truth. I have no ties w-“

“Have you?” Y/N interrupts him. She stands up properly and turns her monitor to face Mr Blight. “You’re aware that I know everything, correct?” He nods. “So, what you’re telling me is, if I open these files over here,” she points towards the files shown on her monitor, “there will be nothing about you deciding to join the organization two months ago?”

His eyes widen. He tries to hide his expressions, but nothing goes unnoticed by her. Mr Blight opens his mouth to say something, anything to save his name, but nothing comes out.

“On the second of September, you made a donation to a charity, which then send out that money to a third party.” She reads through one of the files. “You’ve been making consistent visits to Washington DC once a week, in the guise of visiting family. However, I remember you telling me your family move abroad last summer, is that right?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“But, what Mr Blight?” Her voice raises a notch. She stares him down, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you have some other excuses? Or lies perhaps?”

He shakes his head in defeat. “I will talk to the Avengers.” He mumbles. Y/N raises her brow, waiting for something more. “And I will tell them everything.”

Y/N smiles, expressing him to stand up, which he does. “A pleasure. Remember to tell Blight Industries we aren’t working together anymore before you get locked up, would you?” She shakes his hand when he doesn’t know what to answer, before pointing to the door. “You may leave.”

Mr Blight opens the office door, getting grabbed by a SHIELD agent and pulled away. Natasha, Tony and Wanda stay behind, stepping into the office.

“Hi!” Y/N has a wide smile on her face as she waves at them. “So glad to see you guys. I hope I was able to help.” She kisses Wanda before hugging Natasha.

Tony is looking at her with an indescribable look. “You, are a fraud.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N frowns, tilting her head to the side.

“That!” Tony points at her. “You did that while talking to Mr Blight and looked scary, just like witchy woo over here when she does her thing, and now-“ he moves his hands around her and Wanda, “now you look like a cinnamon roll.”

With a grin, Natasha throws her hand over Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “She has been my secret weapon for years. You don’t understand how many people she has broken.”

Wanda stays quiet as she listens to the conversation. She has only seen the sweet side of Y/N, but she isn’t necessarily disappointed by the other side either.

“I think I like you even more now.” Tony pats her arm. “Now, do you think we could talk about a collaboration between Stark Ind-“

“No.” Y/N states. “There’s a reason I always tell you no.” She smiles sweetly at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I still have work to do.”

“Thank you for your help, I’ll see you later.” Natasha grabs Tony’s suit and pulls him away from the room, leaving Y/N and Wanda alone.

“Hi.” Y/N smiles.

“Hey.” With a brow raised, Wanda stares at her. “That was different.” She mumbles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist. “I kind of liked it.” Using her magic, she closes and locks the door.

“Oh, really?” Y/N grins, her arms going around Wanda’s neck. She giggles as Wanda starts kissing her neck while pushing her backwards. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Wanda lifts Y/N, so she’s sitting on the table. “I have some time.” With a smirk, she goes right back to attacking her neck.

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blainesebastian · 9 months

Text

something real

words: 13,045 ship: austin butler x female reader rating: SFW except for one explicit scene summary: i took inspo from a request about fake!dating for a wedding and from another film with a similar premise. what else do you do when your ex is getting married? hire a fake date notes: feel free to visit my austin masterlist warnings: none, but check the rating. tag list: @austinbutlermischief, @killerqueenfan, @stylespresleyhearted,

“You’re losing it.”

A short laugh escapes your lips because god, maybe you are. This all started out easily enough—you needed a date for your ex’s wedding. Right, the fact that you were even invited kind of drives you crazy. It’s not like you didn’t have a good relationship with Todd, you did? But it also doesn’t change the fact how things ended—he ‘meant’ to break things off with you but started seeing someone at the same time. Claire. The girl he’s marrying. But you’re not about to go through life with grudges and anger when you can just let things go.

Which is why you’ve entertained this wedding invitation in the first place?

But to go alone? That’s a fate worse than death.

Which, ironically, is exactly what your friend, Jill, is telling you you’re going to be with this idea you’ve come up with.

“It’s all perfectly safe.” You mutter, sliding onto a bar stool and turning to look at her. You’re wearing a light blue dress, pair of booties, and jean jacket. Just casual enough but also hinting you’ve got a figure to show off if you really wanted to.

She scoffs, “Yeah, that’s what everyone says before they end up on 60 Minutes.”

You can’t help but smile, tugging the file out of your course before setting it on the bar top. “Do you want me to explain it again?”

Jill puts her hands on her hips—as if that will somehow make her comfortable with all of this, but she’s not protesting either. So you open up the file and—

“So my neighbor’s used this service before to go to her high school reunion, you know, so she didn’t end up there alone. She went onto their online platform, filled out a survey and bam, she was matched with someone to go.”

Jill narrows her eyes, “For twenty thousand dollars.”

“Well it’s not charity,” You throw back, “I’ve done the research, there’s a ton of reviews—all positive. It’s not like it’s about sex or anything, it’s just…companionship for one event.”

Jill looks at the file, crinkling her nose, “There’s so many other ways you could have done this—Rick, the guy in 6B? He’s always thought you were cute.”

You laugh a little, “If I go out with Rick, there is a good chance I’ll end up missing some limbs—dude is creepy, Jill.”

Her friend rolls her eyes but it’s fond, opening up the file and pointing to a blank spot where this guy’s photo should be, “Okay, but you don’t even get to know what he looks like?”

“I think it was my Wi-Fi,” You state honestly, “Some of the images weren’t loading. But that’s why you’re here,” You grin, “Safety measures. So—” You gently push on one of her hips, “Go find a table, order a drink while I wait for Austin.”

“That’s the gigolo’s name?”

“Wedding date,” You correct, shooing her away until she heads to a table.

Taking a breath, you look at the reflective surface of the bar mirror in front of you, mentally praying that this somehow not a huge mistake and order a drink.

Chewing on the drunken cherry in your Manhattan, you glance down the bar as you see someone handsome talking to a small group of women. You wonder if that’s Austin, looking for you—he’s about ten minutes late. Your stomach clenches anxiously, knowing that maybe Jill was right and this is utterly ridiculous. But…you got invited to the wedding late (either it was a last-minute thought or it got lost in the mail) but there was no way you could organically find someone to ask.

Sure, you could have brought Jill or some other friend but…deep down? You know this is about making Todd feel utterly stupid for cheating on you, for leaving you for someone else. You don’t want him back, of course, but that feeling of satisfaction? That look on his face when he sees you with someone else? You want it.

You can’t not go and you can’t find someone random in your life already to go with…so when your neighbor mentioned this quick fix? How could you not look into it? You’ve got a ton of money saved from over the years, not to mention a small investment your grandfather put in your name. What’s the harm in looking into this, right?

“Y/N?”

Turning on the bar stool, you nearly swallow your own tongue as you’re met face to face with who you assume is Austin. And joke’s on you because he’s ten times more beautiful than the other guy at the bar you saw talking to those women. He’s tall, lean, in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket. Easily handsome, like…James Dean or Elvis Presley. Doesn’t have to try very hard.

And suddenly something hysterical crawls up your throat as he takes a seat next to you, introduces himself as Austin, and apologizes for being late because of traffic because—

“I’m sorry—” You interrupt, shaking your head, “This uh, this isn’t going to work.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, his mouth opening and closing, “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” You laugh lightly, cheeks heating up. There’s this sickly sensation gripping your stomach, telling you to run, “No one is going to believe that we’re dating.”

And maybe that’s something oddly pathetic you shouldn’t have uttered outloud because what’s even worse, Austin seems to grip what you’re saying and his features soften. You do not want pity or sympathy, you’re just…stating a fact.

Austin takes in a soft breath and looks towards the bartender, ordering himself a beer, confusing you a little because you expected him to just…take off. There’s no money involved at this point, it’s a clean break. This meeting is just to discuss details.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” He states gently, eyes sweeping over your form. And god, he’s good, isn’t he? You suppose this is his job, making women feel good. Confident. Even though it’s all a lie.

Letting out a breath as his drink is set down on the bar, you figure there’s no harm in…talking with him, right? He came all this way; you can at least wait until he finishes his beer to turn him down. You’ll just go to this damn wedding alone—it’s really not that big of a deal, right?

Austin takes off his leather jacket, hanging it up on a hook underneath the bar and he smells amazing—some sort of cologne that’s fresh and almost citrusy. You run a hand through your hair and order another Manhattan.

“So your request said a wedding?”

“My ex,” You clarify, “And I don’t want him back, or anything, I just want him to feel like an idiot.”

Austin smiles a little, humming— “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard. I’m assumin’ he already is one.”

A small laugh stutters forward in your chest because yes, he is. Your shoulders start to relax just a little because maybe Austin gets it. By not going or going alone you…you don’t want Todd to think that he’s somehow gotten one over you, that you’re lonely or broken ever since you’ve separated.

“Have you…done weddings before?”

He shifts a little on the barstool so that he’s facing you a little easier, “I’ve done weddings the most,” He admits, “Two high school reunions, one funeral.”

You raise your eyebrows, setting your drink down on the bar. “A funeral?”

Austin shrugs lightly, “Some women just want a hand to hold on their hardest day, a shoulder to cry on. Someone to talk to.” He licks his lips, taking a sip of his beer, “I’m not one to judge.”

You straighten your shoulders and…you suppose you’re really not in a position to do that either, given you’re here to hire Austin so you feel less alone and pathetic at a wedding. You take a long look at him for a moment, —curious. He doesn’t want to be doing anything else?

“Can I ask—why are you doing this?” Your fingers trace shapes into the condensation on your glass. “This whole fake-date program?”

Austin clears his throat, “You can ask me whatever you want,” He starts and that within itself seems like a dangerous proposition. “I work at this café near here but uh, it doesn’t exactly bring a lot of money in. I want to be an actor, like…a serious one, the money I get from these dates I’m savin’ up to go to L.A.”

And he essentially gets to pretend to be someone he’s not. Like an endless list of auditions.

There are other things you want to ask, other questions stuck in your throat about doing weddings. Why weddings? The whole concept seems like a bad idea—a high school reunion, a holiday party, even a funeral makes more sense, doesn’t it?

Those aren’t emotionally connected events, there’s no…opportunities to fall into something deeper than what the contract of attachment allows. But weddings? It’s about love and finding your person and…going to one with someone else feels like such a slippery slope.

Or maybe it doesn’t because Austin is a professional.

“So if I…if we do this, what does it entail, exactly?” You take another sip of your drink, as if you need the liquid courage for his response.

A small smile graces his handsome face again, “Don’t overthink it. It’s whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You feel like there’s this heat uncoiling in your belly even though he’s not suggesting anything. Somehow, it’s in the ocean blue of his eyes—a depth there. You clear your throat, “You mean uh—if I require a dance partner? Because I love to dance at weddings…usually badly.”

Austin laughs warmly but shakes his head. “I meant if I was goin’ as your date or a boyfriend.”

And oh, of course, you hadn’t even thought about it but of course Austin would want a more specific role to sink his teeth into and your mind spins about what you want to do. It’s just one night, one silly wedding, there’s no long con here. It’s not like Todd will even care who you show up with, right? You’re the one who wants to feel less lonely—

And yet—

“You can think about it, if you need to—”

“Boyfriend.” You say, cutting him off. Heat returns to your cheeks…mise well go big or go home, right? If you’re going to do this? This has got to be a bad idea, right?

“Okay,” Austin smiles, “Good.”

So it’s settled that he’ll meet you at your place beforehand, you’ll iron out details of your relationship in case anyone asks and then you’ll go to the wedding together.

Austin stands and he tosses some cash on the bar counter (enough to cover your drink as well) and he hovers for a moment, tugging on his leather jacket. “My number’s in the file, in case you need it.”

Then there’s a moment where Austin watches you, fixing the lapels of his jacket. His one hand then rests on the bar, taking a step closer to you, and the way that you’re seated, your legs open just slightly to accommodate his body in your space.

“Don’t hit me, alright?” He smiles a little, leaning down, and honestly you’re the one that feels like you’re getting sucker punched in the stomach. Air right out of your lungs. “It was nice meeting you.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry as your eyes flutter to his lips, “Yeah, you too.”

There’s more than enough time for you to pull away, but you don’t, so he kisses you.

It’s nothing obscene, but slow and gentle. Warm. Just enough to make your heart pound against your ribcage, electricity singing in your veins. You suppose it’s something you should get used to if Austin is going to pass as your boyfriend.

You raise your eyebrows a little as he pulls away, hot under the collar of your jean jacket.

“Figure we’d just get that out of the way so you could concentrate.” He teases and god, your mind is spinning. You kinda hate that he’s made you feel like this so easily, like somehow it’s second nature.

“What, that doesn’t cost extra?” You manage to throw out there, finding your voice.

Austin grins, another soft laugh rumbling in his chest. “I’ll see you soon.”

You let out a slow breath, running a hand over your hair as you watch him walk out of the bar before downing the rest of your drink.

“So that’s your date, huh?” Jill asks as she comes up behind you—honestly her voice kinda sounds like cotton in your ears. “Todd is gonna swallow his own tongue.”

And you can’t help but grin.

You meet one more time before the wedding, just…something to solidify that you do, in fact, know what you’re doing. But also to get a bit more comfortable around Austin and the fact that he’s going to be your boyfriend. You let out a slow breath, aggravated by how crazy that sounds. Maybe Jill’s right, maybe this is a bad idea (despite how handsome and charming Austin is).

He’s picked you up to go somewhere but won’t tell you where. And when the engine turns off, you undo your seatbelt and look out the windshield, “A custard house?”

“Was hopin’ you could go for somethin’ sweet,” Austin smiles a little, “They make these waffle custard sandwiches that’ll change your life.”

You hum lightly and start to get out of the car, a little confused because…well, you’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. “We’re here for ice cream sandwiches?”

Austin scrunches his nose in mock offense at her flippant description, “No, we’re here for waffle custard. You need to work on listenin’, come on.” He gets out of the car too and locks the doors.

You know you’re about to paying Austin a decent amount of money to be your stand-in date, your fake boyfriend, dragging him to this wedding for god knows what reasons make sense in your head but…you suppose you didn’t count on him being like this. A tiny bit thoughtful, sweet, funny even.

Or maybe he’s already a decent actor.

You follow him to the counter, your eyes trailing over at least thirty different custard flavors—not only that, but there’s twice as many toppings. How are you supposed to choose?

“You know what you want already?” You ask as Austin rolls up the sleeves of his jean jacket a little.

“I always know what I want.” He leans on the counter, turning towards the woman at the register to order French vanilla—but stops when you make a noise. He looks at you over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Somethin’ you wanna share?”

You purse your lips and rocks back onto your heels, shaking your head, “No I just…vanilla, really? You don’t seem like the type.” She teases.

Austin smirks, straightening his back. “Oh, huh.” He motions to the large display menu. “Put your money where your mouth is, baby. What should I order?”

You let the pet name slide (and it does, like heated molasses right down in your veins), which is probably a dangerous slippery slope, but you’re too busy trying to take in a custard selection at the moment to care. You chew on your lower lip, slipping through the flavors written in chalk on the board and decides to go with your favorite pairing—

“He’ll have chocolate and strawberry custard in that waffle sandwich thing with…” You hum, “Caramel sauce and chocolate sprinkles.” You smile, clearly happy with your selection before ordering the same for yourself…except you also get chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Because why the hell not?

“You’re gonna have that all over you before the night is over.” Austin motions to the dripping mess in your hands, carefully shelled between fresh waffles wrapped up in foil.

You slide yourself onto the hood of Austin’s car, almost sliding back down but managing to lean against the windshield before losing your custard sandwich.

“Challenge accepted.”

Austin smiles a little, sitting down next to you, looking far too handsome sprawled out on his car.

You realize that everything between you both is so dangerous, wrapped in gentle dynamite, the softest breath or touch capable of explosion. But it’s also tantalizing in a way that excites you—Austin is different, gentle but rough with the walls he keeps up.

Everything about this is a lie –circles in your head, over and over, trying to remind you not to take anything too seriously. And yet? You bury it deep with a bite of your custard sandwich. You moan softly and lick chocolate off your lips because Jesus, this is incredible.

Austin smirks, licking custard between the waffle before he takes a bite of his own. “Told you it was worth the stop.”

“I’m not going to admit you somehow know all just because you have decent taste in custard.” You smile and takes another bite of your waffle sandwich, leaning back to watch cars drive by.

“Give it time.” Austin glances over and you can feel his gaze, always like a magnet tracing the curves of your body. You want to tell him that you enjoy when he looks at you like that, to be felt and seen all at the same time, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You wonder if he looks at every woman who’s ever paid him like that.

You’re not sure you want to know.

You turn and meet his gaze, holding it for a moment before a small smile graces your lips. “Do you really work at a café?”

He nods, leaning further up against the windshield. “It’s called Mug Half Full; been there about three years.” He licks his lips, pulling a napkin from his pants pocket and wiping his chin where he feels caramel sticking. “What do you do? You didn’t mention it in your email.”

You swallow down a bought of self-loathing at the question and decide to take another bite of your sandwich; sweet hiding sour. “I uh, I’m kinda in-between jobs at the moment.” You know Austin has to be able to see through that terrible excuse of an answer. “I’m currently getting an online degree in education.”

Austin finishes his custard waffle, which is admirable because yours is two seconds away from becoming soup in your hands. You lick at the sides as he crumples up a napkin and puts his trash in a can nearby so it’s not in either of your way.

“What do you want to do?”

The question shouldn’t offend you as much as it does, the want and need to defend yourself raising your hackles a bit. You bite down on reacting too sorely; he’s just asking a question—and you realize you haven’t given him a reason not to ask something like that. Your bland response is what prompts the statement.

You suppose you’re just…too used to people asking that, especially since society makes you feel like you somehow got a late start in figuring things out. In reality, it’s never too early or too late to be whoever you want. You’re just…getting to that.

You clear your throat, setting your custard sandwich down on your lap a moment, the foil protecting your clothes. “I have no idea,” You admit with a soft laugh, “My relationship with my ex kinda took all my energy—supporting whatever he needed, you know? Now I’m just starting to figure myself out.” And you’re proud of that progress, even though it feels like pushing a boulder up a hill sometimes. “I might teach maybe, one day.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, slight amusement dancing in the corners of his eyes. He smiles gently, looking down at your hands before he picks up your sandwich and licks whipped cream off the corner. Ridiculously obscene and unnecessary but you let him do it anyways.

You have apparently become accustomed to sharing things—you’ve noticed that he continues the ruse of soft touches and intimate gestures when no one’s watching. You think it’s to help solidify the fact that you’re supposed to be dating, supposed to be into one another. Which isn’t very hard when he does things like that with his tongue.

Austin tosses your trash like he did with his own before turning to look at you, handing you a napkin to wipe your hands off. “I could tell you wanted more. And you know, there’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Then why does it feel so guilty for you to admit— “Sometimes it feels selfish, to want things for myself.” You swallow, letting it sink into the air. You’ve never told anyone that before, not even your best friend or your parents.

“Sounds like someone really selfish made you feel that way.” He says gently and it’s like…wool has been taken off your eyes. Something you maybe knew but needed to hear.

It’s not what you expect him to say, not in the slightest, but it warms you from the inside out either way. You nod because yes, you’ve never thought about it like that but yes, that’s it exactly. Realizing that taking care of yourself is one of the best things you can do—knowing yourself and that you deserve to want, that it’s normal, even.

Austin hums softly, moving to slip off the car. You swing your legs around and when he offers you his hand, you take it to slide off as well.

How easy it would be to lean up and kiss him, how he’d probably taste like hints of chocolate and strawberry. You wait for him to let you go, for his hand to stop holding yours. But he doesn’t.

You lick your own lips, your eyes looking to his lower one, how it pouts out gently when he looks at you—and you decide to stop waiting for things you want. If you’re going to pay for his company, you might as well enjoy it.

You press your lips into his own, capturing something sweet, lips moving together like you both were always made to kiss. Austin’s one hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your hair back around your ear before eventually pulling back. You’re breathing a little shakily, your noses brushing, Austin taking his time to trace your cheekbone with his lips before he opens up the car door for you.

“You’re not charging me extra for the gentleman treatment, are you?” Or for the kisses I keep stealing?

Austin smiles, a soft laugh leaving his throat as he waits for you to put your seatbelt on. “Not yet.” And closes the door with a wink.

You think about canceling six times between when you wake up on the day of the wedding to the moment you slide your dress over your head. You’ve told yourself that this was and continues to be a terrible idea and if you hadn’t paid him half up front through a cash app, you’d have the nerve to tell him never mind. Kisses and all, you really feel like you’re starting to lose your damn mind.

Though you know even if you told Austin to forget the whole thing, you still have to go to this wedding. (You could probably skip it no big deal, but the last thing you want is Todd to assume you’re bothered either). Canceling now would definitely mean going alone and you can’t stomach it, not when you feel like all of your insides are already in knots.

You smooth your hands down the front of your dress as you hear the doorbell, taking the steps downstairs carefully in your gold heels. You’ve settled for a navy-blue number that shows just enough cleavage and is ruffled at your middle, hugging curves and kissing your skin beautifully. You feel confident and comfortable, which is important for a long night.

You sigh, glancing at your front door for a moment before turning the knob and opening up to see Austin. He’s standing in a suit, beautifully polished, hair perfectly coifed on his head. A navy button-down underneath a gray suit jacket, tie to match with a red spidery design that reminds you of tree branches in the winter.

A crinkle appears between Austin’s eyebrows because, “Why are you shakin’ your head?” He asks as he steps over the threshold and you close the door.

“I just naturally assumed you were going to show up in black. Black in your profile picture that finally loaded, black at the bar… I thought that was the only shade you owned.”

He runs a hand lightly over his chest. “Grays in the same shade family.” He’s joking but you’re not laughing and finally he just throws his hands up a little, “What’s the big deal?”

“Because we match.”

Austin looks down at himself and pauses, doesn’t get it, gives you a look that makes you feel a little crazy. “That a bad thing?”

“It’s—” No, it’s not exactly a terrible idea but it somehow digs under your skin because you want today to be perfect and Austin is supposed to be your boyfriend and you can’t be that couple that goes all matchy-matchy to events, right?

What are the odds that he shows up in something that is the exact same color as your damn dress?

“It’s too perfect, it’s not believable.” You say and he raises his eyebrows because that does not make one lick of sense. He takes a step towards you and you mirror one back, shaking your head.

Austin lets out a slow breath because you’re nitpicking and it annoys him, a flare of impatience decorating his handsome face. “Well I don’t exactly got another suit in my back pocket and we’re already late.”

You narrows your eyes, “Just…follow me. I’ll change.”

You’re up the stairs and in your bedroom before you realize what you’ve said, Austin slipping in behind you and looking around the room, drinking you in with permission you’ve accidently given him. You turn suddenly and slip off your heels, pressing one hand to his chest to stop him.

“Don’t move.”

He smiles a little and nods his head, sticking his hands in his pockets as he watches you slide into your walk-in closet to change. You sigh softly and run a hand over your forehead before you take a moment to unzip your dress and glance at your options.

“A lot of beige.”

You roll your eyes and pull out a black dress, quickly pulling it on and kicking your navy blue one to the side before stepping out of your closet. You don’t bother to zip it up until you make sure it’s the right one.

Austin has dutifully not moved from the spot on the carpet where you’ve left him and he scrunches his nose at your dress, “You goin’ to a wake?”

“What’s wrong with beige?” You glance around your bedroom; at the little accents you’ve added that have color to them. Some shades of coffee colored brown and touches of teal here and there. It’s minimalist but tasteful.

“It’s just not what I pictured.”

“You pictured my bedroom?” You ask, but the corners of your mouth pull slightly as you put your hands on your hips.

Austin tilts his head at you, eyes traveling over your body in an unashamed way. “Maybe.” He pauses for a moment to let that sink into your pores. “You don’t seem like a beige. Also, no to that dress. I can maybe get you not wantin’ to match completely but that doesn’t line up with what I got on at all.”

You nod and turn to go back into your closet, pulling the dress off and standing far too long in your underwear trying to decide on a color range. You could go gold…but that feels too flashy, gray is out of the question and so is another navy dress so…

You finger red fabric for a moment that matches the scarlet on Austin’s tie and pull it off the hanger.

“I’m not actually that fond of beige,” You admit over your shoulder as you pull the dress up—it’s a fit and flare that kind of reminds you of the sixties. Something that hugs your waist with a high-neck tanked top and flares out like a wide flame at the bottom. It hits just below your knees and your gold heels will still go nicely with it.

“But the house kinda came this way and…I never took the time to fix it.” You walk out of the closet, pulling your hair free from underneath. “Todd didn’t like bold colors anyways.”

Austin’s eyes descend on you like a cold rush of water, a wave crashing down onto your shores. He stares for what feels like a long time, his hands coming out of his pockets like he wants to touch but can’t—too far away. You smile softly as his gaze sticks, he’s captivated by the dress, and you notice he has to shake his head as you approach to be able to speak to you.

“So I’m guessin’ he’s not gonna like this.” He reaches to touch your waist, fingers pressing warmly into the fabric.

You chew on the inside of your cheek a moment, looking up at him. “Do you like it?”

He smirks gently, pulling on your elbow to turn you around. He doesn’t reply but you feel suddenly naked under his gaze as your bare back is exposed to him. He takes his time finding the zipper and slowly draws it up into place, fixing the little hook at the top. His hands rest against your shoulders and guide down, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

“Get your shoes. We’re already late.”

You let out a long sigh that somehow turns into a pout, making him smile, “We could stay here, you could give more wisecracks about my bedroom decorum.”

Austin smirks and grabs your purse from where it’s seated on the bed as you slip your heels back on. “As amazing as that sounds, that’s not what you’re payin’ me for.”

And the words sound sour, swallowing them down, nodding your head as you leave the bedroom with him.

The wedding itself isn’t actually terrible—it’s beautiful in a way that would make any woman envious. Lots of flowers and gold designs and as you watch the entire ceremony take place, you have moments where you wonder why you’re here. Was it really that important for you to show up? And not only that, but pay a date to be here? You keep going back and forth, like a serious game of tug-of-war.

Why did it matter if you showed up alone? Or with Jill?

Austin helps you with your coat, his hand on your lower back as you walk out of the church and towards the reception hall which is being held in this beautiful botanical garden that has rooms you can rent for things like this.

People begin to pile into the building, pausing at the coat check before heading into the reception all, and it’s right there that you suddenly feel like bolting. Truth is? Todd was your boyfriend for years before your breakup (a breakup that might have never happened if you hadn’t realized he was cheating, because clearly he hadn’t taken the initiative until it was too late). And it’s probably so stupid that you remained friends with him, that you were invited to this wedding, that you for some reason care about what he thinks—even now.

But you do.

You should have just moved on and thrown the wedding invitation in the trash but…feelings don’t always come in black and white. You constantly live in a shade of gray.

And you’re worried someone is going to see right through you tonight.

Austin squeezes your hand, getting your attention as you remain grounded by the coat check. He’s patient, waiting until your gaze meets his own. “You’re shakin’.” His other hand covers the one he’s already holding.

You nod your head and offer a smile you don’t feel. “I thought this would be easy. Having you here as a distraction, smiling at all the right times and drinking too much wine in a nice dress,” You shrug your one shoulder, “It doesn’t change how I feel.”

Despite the small amount of privacy the coat check wall provides, you can feel eyes on you two from different parts of the room; people slipping past to get a glass of champagne from the cash bar, fluttering in-between hors d'oeuvres tables and congratulating the couple. Guests who know who you are, who are whispering about you. You can hear Todd a few feet away; big laughs and too loud discussions that tell you he’s a little drunk but genuinely happy.

Or maybe this is all in your head.

“Look, I think you were gonna feel this way no matter if you came alone or with someone.” He runs his thumb over your knuckles. “But you can still do all the other things you mentioned,” Austin leans in, brushes his lips over your cheekbone as he talks, “Drink too much wine in a beautiful dress and smilin’ definitely doesn’t hurt.”

He pulls back and you lick your lips, wanting nothing more than to lean up and kiss him again. To feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, back outside, to his car, away from this place where you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.

Austin grasps your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, waiting until your eyes meets his own again. He leans forward to brush your lips together, gently, more to distract you than anything else because it’s not a kiss.

“Women hire me because they want to feel wanted and if that’s what you need to hear, then fine, I do want you, Y/N.” You let out a breath that sounds too shaky for your own good, your knees slightly buckling. All the other gazes you once felt on you fade away, until it’s only you and Austin in an empty botanical garden.

“But hearin’ that doesn’t matter until you want things for yourself. You want someone to believe in you? You want to feel confident? Wanted?” His hand falls to your waist, “Good enough?”

You swallow thickly, his words reaching something that’s still raw inside of you, that still hurts to think about. You want to pull away, nearly do, but instead surrender to his weight against you. It’s not his fault that he does a better job of reading you than you do looking in a mirror.

“Then it has to come from you first.”

You shake your head as he pulls away, his hand very simply returning to yours as you both move towards the cash bar. “I know you think you know me from a few meetings and a detailed email request. But you don’t.” Your words at least sound stronger than you feel.

Austin looks at you over his shoulder and smiles but says nothing in return.

Maybe the problem is, he does know you, even from the simplest interactions. Maybe you’re just not used to being seen. Todd never saw you, even when you gave him so many chances to try. You suppose at that point you need to want to try.

You’re seated at a table that has mostly co-workers and friends and you attempt not to cringe when someone asks you how you know the bride and groom. Austin swoops in and responds that they’re friends, his arm stretched out over the back of your chair. You’re grateful because the words we dated are sitting in your throat like a lump, difficult to swallow over.

The night spins forward, you’re able to avoid the bride and groom for the duration of it, just enjoying food and a little bit too much wine and hanging out with Austin. There are long conversations where you get to know one another, fill one another in about things that are real, beyond the layers of this fake-date situation.

It’s nice, seeing him in that light, getting to know him as if you’d bumped into him at a bar and enjoyed his company.

You almost wish that was the case, instead.

His arm squeezes around your waist as you both dance on the dance floor, his jacket on the back of his chair, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. You’re definitely a little tipsy, the room is rose-colored, but all in all? It feels like a crisis has been avoided, you’re actually having a good time.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?” Austin asks, brushing his lips over your forehead, “Maybe some cookies from the dessert table?”

You grin, “You know me so well.” And it’s not a line, somehow, you’ve been craving cookies for the past half hour.

Austin smiles, nods, squeezes your waist and leaves you to do just that. You somehow ache with missing the heat of his body once he’s gone—and that’s how you know you’re slightly in over your head. You have to keep reminding yourself that none of this is real—the way Austin talks to you or looks at you, the way his hands travel over your body, the slight brush of his lips against your own.

It's all a lie.

A lie that you paid for.

Running a hand over your forehead, you turn and nearly bump into someone, blinking as you look up and—

“Todd.”

Your ex smiles, “Hey—I’m so glad you came, I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Neither was I, “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Chewing on your lower lip, you’re struck with being unsure of what to say, scanning the crowd for Austin before clearing your throat, “Uhm, everything has been beautiful.”

Todd smiles, nodding, taking a look around for his bride. “Thank you. Are you uh, here with Jill?”

You open and close your mouth like a goldfish until you feel that familiar arm slide around you. “No this is Austin,” You take the glass of wine and have a hearty sip and it instantly makes your head spin.

Todd clears his throat and even though he’s smiling, it’s clear he’s giving Austin a once-over. He did not expect you to be here with someone. “I didn’t know you were bringing a friend that wasn’t Jill.” He kinda laughs, like maybe it’s a joke that you don’t have many other close friends other than her.

But Austin is quick to smile, “Actually, I’m her boyfriend.”

And there it is, the look on Todd’s face that you were after this whole time. It’s quick, gone almost as soon as it appears, but lingers in his eyes. Regret, maybe even jealousy. Even though his wife appears by his side and introductions are exchanged.

Luckily the conversation doesn’t last very long, the bride and groom are swept towards other people, more dancing. Which is good because you’re pretty sure you noticed that the bride couldn’t keep her eyes off of Austin.

What a couple her and Todd make.

Downing the rest of the wine, you set it on the table, letting out a slow breath. Austin keeps his hands firm on your hips and you can’t quite meet his eyes. You’re not quite sure how…this wasn’t what you expected, nor wanted.

Just feels like a big mistake.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks quietly, seeming to read your mind.

You nod and he keeps his arm around you until you make it outside and reach his car.

That last glass of wine did you zero favors and by the time you make it to your front door, you’re dropping your keys instead of sliding them into the lock. Austin smiles a little, picking them up and unlocking everything, pushing the door open. You’ve got a firm hand on his shirt because you’re swaying slightly, almost a little afraid of what might happen if you let go.

What if all of this is one weird dream?

“Where are we going?” You ask as he comes inside, closing the door behind him.

“Water n’bed.” Austin replies as he guides you into the living room.

You scrunch your nose and look to the ceiling, definitely knocking yourself off balance as the room spins. Austin lets out a short grunt as he catches you, steadying you against his chest.

“In that order? That’s so boring.”

He chuckles slightly, guiding you both until he has you in front of the couch, encouraging you to sit. “You got somethin’ else you’d rather do?”

You can’t help but grin at the question, poking at his chest. “I think you know what I’d rather like to do.” It’s like hot lava pouring from your lips, you can’t seem to stop it even though you know you’ll have burns later.

Austin hums under his breath but doesn’t respond, concentrates instead on keeping you on the couch once you’re seated.

“Stay there,” He says when you try to get up, holding onto your shoulders and pressing you gently down. “You good or you gonna slip off?” There’s an amused smile pulling handsomely at his lips as he tilts his head down to look at you, slipping his thumb and forefinger along your chin.

“Good, I’m so good.” You nod, determined to give him responses that make sense. You just wish the room would stop spinning.

Only when he feels like you mean it does he pull away from you. You closes your eyes as your fingers grip the cushion, trying to hold yourself in place. None of this really helps and instead you just end up feeling nauseas, forcing your eyes to open so you can see Austin.

He’s taken his jacket off, tie gone and shirt unbuttoned a bit, and seeing his chest and forearms makes heat unwantedly pool between your legs and you lick your lips, trying to focus on what he has in his hands.

“He…he honestly didn’t think I’d be there with anyone.”

A crinkle appears between Austin’s eyebrows and he pauses, “What?”

You swallow, not sure if your trail of thought makes sense. “Todd. Jerk.” You give as an explanation.

Something passes over Austin’s face but it’s gone as soon as it appears and he crouches in front of you, his one hand slipping over your knee a moment, “Do you actually care what he thinks?”

You hold his gaze for a long moment before shaking your head. He hums softly, squeezing, his thumb between your thighs and it’s really too distracting.

“Then fuck him; neither of those two seemed like they should be giving relationship advice.”

You giggle something ridiculous and cover your face with your hand a moment, glad you were able to make sense of all that even though you probably didn’t need to bring it up.

“You got anythin’ like a long t-shirt?” He changes the subject as he makes a motion to go upstairs. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get pants on you.”

You huff out a sound and rub a hand over your face, most likely smearing makeup in the worst way. “That’s alright, I like bein’ pantless.” You reach over and is happy you don’t tumble, using one hand to hold onto his shoulder to get his attention. “Upstairs, first drawer on the right.”

He’s back and forth quickly; makes you wonder how long you’ve actually been sitting there.

Him undressing you is a blur; you note that he does his best to dip his gaze when he can to give you a little privacy. Just enough that you can figure out that your head doesn’t go into one of the arm holes and assists when you starts whining that you can’t get it right. You throw your wedding dress aside and kicks off your heels, letting out a soft huff when Austin disappears into the kitchen.

He comes back with a warm washcloth that smells like lilac soap and he waits until your gaze focuses on him before he asks whether you can do this yourself.

You nod a little absently, taking the washcloth from him and wiping your makeup off before handing it back to him. You pull as many bobbypins as you can find from your hair and toss them onto the coffee table, pulling your strands back up into a bun before collapsing face first into the couch.

You barely feel the couch dip as you smush your face into a pillow, blankets being draped over your shoulders.

When you wake up, you don’t automatically remember where you are.

You lift your head and groan softly, pinching your eyes with your thumb and forefinger trying to get the pounding to stop. There’s a soft blue light casting shadows on the walls of the living room and oh, that’s right, you’re home. Austin brought you home last night.

You swallow and nearly sit up too fast, leaning up on your elbows because oh, oh fuck, now you remember. A wave of nausea crashes down on you for moving and you flutter your eyes closed briefly and hope that helps. When you feels confident enough to fix your gaze on something other than the inside of your eyelids, you turn to look at Austin who’s sitting up in one of the lounge chairs nearby against a few pillows, watching TV.

He didn’t leave. He stayed with you the entire night.

The sound from the TV isn’t loud enough to be heard but you can tell he does this often, eyes on the screen, just absorbing the images that flicker to life. His head dips to look over at you when you move; he looks tired. You really hope he didn’t sit up to just…keep an eye on you, making sure you slept alright.

You clear your throat, the sound scratchy and dry regardless of your trying, “Am I dead?”

Austin smirks a little and stands to come and sit by your legs, handing you a glass of water that’s on the coffee table. “Here. You passed out before I could get you to drink any.”

You sigh softly and close your eyes, moving to sit up further and is glad to see the room isn’t spinning anymore. “Lovely.” You drink deeply after a few tentative sips to make sure you can keep it down.

“You stayed.”

“I did.” Austin’s quiet for a few moments, playing with the corners of one of the blankets. Clearly he’s not going to elaborate. “You got a headache?”

You hum an affirmative response but it’s nothing water and Advil can’t cure. You lean your head back against the headboard, closing your eyes again for a few moments to avoid the blue light spilling into the room from the TV. You give yourself some time to sip your water before you open them again, setting the glass down on the table. There’s cookies there too, from last night. Austin kept them.

You sense embarrassment licking at your nerve endings, feeling a little ridiculous for your behavior. You should really know better than to let yourself go like that, especially since it doesn’t take too many glasses of wine in a row for it to happen.

“Sober?” He asks and there’s a tilt to his voice that you don’t like, far too amused.

You groan and turn your head to look at him, trying to muster up a glare that doesn’t stick. “Unfortunately.” You rake your fingers through your hair, trying to not even think about what you might look like.

You’re just glad you didn’t vomit.

A deep breath settles in and out of your lungs before you turn your head to look at Austin, the light of the TV casting beautiful shadows on his face. Your eyes skitter over the scruff beginning on his jawline and your fingers itch to follow. You clear your throat, getting his attention, and he turns his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry for getting plastered.” You smile a little because he does; that same amusement back on his face, though it doesn’t bother you this time around. “I’m shocked that you do weddings.”

You allow yourself to laugh a little, shaking your head like it’ll somehow clear the fuzzy memories of him bringing you back to your home, tripping over yourself. You regret the way you’ve carried yourself, but a tiny part of you is glad you decided to let yourself go, to enjoy the open bar and let your emotions run a little rampant for once.

You’re so used to keeping everything inside, to holding it all in. For once you didn’t.

Austin’s chewing on words he’s not saying, you can see the hesitance in his expression, wanting to say something but unsure if he should. You wait, don’t press, and eventually,

“Admittedly, I haven’t done a wedding in a while.” He shakes his head, “Because they tend to be messy in a way that I never expect.”

You wince, rubbing the back of your neck because…clearly you hadn’t planned on making a fool out of yourself but Austin quickly continues to explain,

“I don’t mean you.” He turns a bit to lean against the couch, his shoulder pressed along the cushions. Austin licks his lips, his eyes tracing your jawline and lips, slipping down your neck and collarbone enough to make you shiver.

“In your request, you said somethin’ like, ‘I don’t want my ex to feel like he’s taken something from me. Something that’s mine and will always be mine’.”

You search his eyes for a moment and when his finally meet yours, something warm and aching starts in your chest, blooming outward like a flower only meant to grow at night. You swallow thickly, “You remember that?” Because you kinda…bared you soul in that request for a date service. You hadn’t meant to come across so desperate but…you were also just being honest.

“I have a very good memory,” He attempts to wave this off, and you want to tell him not to—that what he’s saying matters. Austin’s seeing you, over walls you didn’t realize you had up after all this time.

“You said kind of implied that you wanted Todd to regret cheating on you, but I think you really meant that you wanted him to see that he didn’t break you.” He licks his lips and trails his pinky finger along your jawline as he curls loose hair behind your ear. “I’ve met a lot of women in similar situations, and not all of them have handled it like you.”

A laugh slips out of your throat, something you can’t stop. You’re trying to break the tension gathering in the room, something heavy and thick like warm cotton settling over both of you. Handled it? You haven’t exactly done that well, have you? If last night is any indication.

“What, they didn’t hire a male escort and get piss drunk?”

He smiles gently, shaking his head. “They let their exes break them because they couldn’t figure out who they were without them.”

The warmth in your chest threatens to burst and you wish for a moment that you could see yourself the way Austin does, so clearly, like everything is laid out before him, all he has to do is read.

“But not you.” It barely leaves his mouth before you close the distance between them.

The heat erupts in a single kiss, both of Austin’s hands tangling themselves in your hair, pulling it loose from your haphazard bun. He kisses you like you’ve always wanted to be kissed, even though you hadn’t realized it was something that was missing until now.

He inches you forward, forcing you to move until you’re straddling his waist, blankets getting caught and tangled in-between. Anything that’s been building up suddenly releases into you both, like a wave crashing, heated breaths against skin and not being able to get close enough. Austin tugs off your long t-shirt and a shiver travels down your skin as you reach up and automatically unclasp your bra.

You sit there for a moment, almost in the wake of realizing what you’ve done, and you watch Austin’s gaze. His eyes drink you in, hands still on your waist, trailing up your sides, thumb slipping underneath one of your breasts to press against your ribcage. The touch is intimate enough to cause something sharp in your throat, thick swallowing for it to disappear. You lean forward, presses your foreheads together and you kiss again.

You’re fumbling to get blankets down, to move everything out of your way and Austin flips your positions, easing you down onto your back along the cushions. He rifles for something in his suit jacket that’s nearby while you slip your hips up to slide your underwear down and off and away. He’s got too many layers on and you itch to immediately remove his shirt when he’s overtop of you again.

Toned skin greets you and you can’t help but touch, sink your fingers in, drag your nails. The noises that leave Austin’s throat are enough to single handedly build the heat beginning in your lower belly, something you don’t think you ever want to stop hearing. He moves only long enough to take his pants off, tossing them to the side, and he holds your gaze—

He waits.

You swallow and know this is such a bad idea, that nothing good can come from this. But wasn’t it Austin who urged you to figure out what you want? You want to feel confident? Wanted? Good enough?

Then it has to come from you first.

There’s a half-nod in Austin’s direction before he’s slipping a hand down between you, to put a condom on but also—

You moan, rolling your hips as you feel his fingers slide against you, inside of you. He teases, rolls flesh between his thumb and forefinger, lips falling to your neck to leave kisses that eventually find your mouth again.

He takes his time even though you wish he wouldn’t, building you up and letting you down easy before pressing inside. You gasp and your back arches, hips rolling forward, Austin leaning down to capture your mouth again, to absorb your sounds. You wrap your legs around him, which makes moving a little difficult, but you don’t want him to move too far away, want to constantly feel him—keep you both connected.

Austin nips at your lower lip with his own, not taking you long to build up what you’ve started. Pleasure circles in your veins, pulling you towards an end that you doesn’t want to reach yet. He doesn’t stop, keeps moving his hips forward at a quickening pace and you dig your nails into his back.

You barely have time to warn him before you’re cumming, though because your bodies are molded together, you think he already knows—probably knew before you did. He grunts as he loses himself in you, his face falling to your neck, gentle panting and lazy kissing.

You tilt your head back so your throat is exposed, your hands slipping down his back and settling on his waist, his skin a little slick to the touch. He lays there for a long few moments and you take one another in, his chest pressing into your own as you both breathe.

He pulls back too soon for your liking, but you don’t have the energy to tell him to stop. Austin cleans himself up, slipping onto the couch again, this time behind you, and pulls you close. You turn on your side, blankets coming up over your shoulder as you puzzle-piece both of you together, your face hiding in his neck, already falling asleep.

Austin says nothing, which is fine with you, he doesn’t need to say anything. His lips find your shoulder, a few kisses here and there, hands intertwining in your hair.

You finally figure out what you want—

and you want this. You want him.

You wake up before Austin does, pulling yourself from the couch and disappearing into the bathroom near the kitchen. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you kinda shake your head before drawing up Jill’s text messages on your phone.

Y/N: I think I messed up.

You wash your face and feel a little more human, sitting down on the closed toilet seat as she pings you back.

Jill: oh no, what happened? Jill: please tell me Austin didn’t turn out to be a serial killer

You laugh, your hand covering your mouth. Jesus. A small, hysterical part of you wonders if that’d be easier to deal with.

Y/N: the wedding went fine, he brought me back home, stayed the night Y/N: may or may not have had sex with him on my couch this morning??

Jill instantly tries to call you and you press the red button—you can’t talk to her when he’s still here.

Y/N: I can’t, he’s still here

Jill: !!!!!! Jill: girl omg— Jill: how was it? 😉

Running a hand over your face, you wonder if you should have ever said anything. Then again, there’s this small smile tugging the corners of your mouth. In general, you know that there’s nothing wrong with what you’ve done—both of you are consenting adults. But then there’s this whole other layer of…paying him to be your date. It’s not like you paid him for sex or anything but…

You kinda can’t help but wonder how many jobs he takes that end up like this.

Y/N: it was perfect but that’s not the point

Jill: so what is the point?

You sigh softly, tapping on your cash app and just…wondering. So many insecurities and questions and wonderings wrapping around you like a blanket, except it’s far too tight, suffocating almost. Taking in a breath, you set your phone down on the counter, looking up when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” Austin asks, “You alright?”

Reaching over to grasp the knob, you open the door with a soft smile, “Yeah.”

Austin looks ridiculously adorable slept on. His hair is slightly askew, skin looking warm, a soft, tired look in his eyes. God, you can’t believe he’s been here for so long in these wedding clothes, back in his slacks and a white undershirt.

“I uh,” He clears his throat, “M’gonna head home. Shower, change. But…”

You lick your lips, your stomach flip-flopping with eagerness.

“I was thinkin’ I could come back later; we could talk?”

God, talking sounds like such a great idea. Not to mention you could shower too, put yourself together, feel more like someone capable of having a serious conversation. So you nod with a soft smile—that sounds perfect.

And then—

You can pinpoint the exact moment that Austin glances to the sink and sees the cash app open because his expression changes, like a shadow passing over but instead of dissipating—it stays, darkening the color of his eyes. A breath catches in your throat as you straighten your shoulders, words on your lips and stuck on your tongue. Nothing comes out.

His gaze flickers up from the phone to your eyes and what you see there is like a cold bucket of ice water, anger but…deeper, it’s—

“Not what it looks like.” You finally say, breaking the tension into pieces with a hammer.

Austin hums, nodding his head and licking his lips. He’s trying very hard to speak without sounding annoyed, “What’s it like then?” He asks, the words daggered. “Cause it looks like you were about to pay me for services rendered.”

You shake your head and stand from the toilet on wobbly knees. Austin takes a step back from you, almost like a caged animal, getting ready to bolt. And then you realize, right, he’s not angry, he’s hurt.

“No—”

“Don’t lie to me,” He grounds out, the words chewed on between his teeth.

A shuddered noise leaves your lips because you can tell you’re losing it, this conversation slipping like sand between your fingers. He’s not going to be willing to listen to you if you confirm he’s right, that you had thought about it—if you admit you weren’t sure what you were doing or what sleeping together meant.

You distantly know that this isn’t going to end well, no matter what you say. Austin tore his walls down in front of you, exposed himself, and now he looks like a fool for doing it. Even if it’s on accident, you’ve hurt him, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to backpedal without looking guilty.

“I thought about it,” You admit after a moment. “I wasn’t…” The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel cheap; you know that this thing started as a transaction but also that something changed last night.

“Nah, it’s good. You were payin’ me to do a job, right?” Austin turns to walk back to the living room, gather up his things. And it’s like…you have no idea what you can possibly say, how you can stop him.

Your legs carry you forward, “Austin, don’t.” You sigh and puts a hand on your lips, suddenly feeling nauseas as he moves too quick for you to stop him.

“Business is business. You can stop feelin’ so guilty,” He straightens his shoulders before grabbing his jacket, slipping it on. Metaphorically it feels like a shield, another layer he’s building back up between them both, shutting you out.

He can’t possibly leave like this, right?

You’re practically stumbling over your own feet as he makes it to the front door, “Please don’t walk away.”

His hand pauses on the doorknob, just for a moment, like he might actually be considering your words. But then he yanks the door open and slams it shut once he’s outside.

You don’t go after him.

Time goes on.

You expect that Austin might reach out to you—to apologize, to start over, or maybe even request the unfulfilled payment that he was supposed to receive after the wedding date. But nothing, it’s radio silent…and you think that’s worse.

You want to reach out to him on your own, but you’re not even sure where to begin. How to apologize for thoughts that are incomplete in your head. How to express emotions that are sitting at the bottom of your ribcage.

You’re just hoping for a chance to apologize and explain yourself, even though you’re not entirely sure you deserve it. Is this really it? Going back to business as usual and pretend they never met one another?

You sigh as you hear a few knocks on your door and hate how it feels like hope, quickly moving from your kitchen to tug it open and see Jill on the other side. You give her a small smile, letting her inside,

“I got your twenty texts, you alright?”

You run a hand over your forehead and shake your head, moving towards the kitchen for Jill to follow. You offer her a cup of coffee, sitting back at the counter with your own. Wrapping your hands around the ceramic, you glance up at your friend,

“I screwed up.”

Jill sighs softly, grabbing a cup for the coffee because clearly, she’s going to need it. “Tell me what happened; your texts were all hysteria and no detail.”

You map out the whole thing from start to finish, the chapel, the reception, the night of, the morning after—your voice drops on intimate details, like somehow you have to keep them exactly that. Intimate.

“Damn, Y/N.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “I know…it was an accident.” You swallow. “The money part, anyways.”

She adds a few spoonfuls of sugar to her mug, stirring. “Does tall, blonde and brooding know that?”

You let your hand fall from your face, eyes focusing out the window above the sink at the city sounds and sights. Suddenly a dark blue gaze rekindles in your memory, the hurt there, wounded and refusing to let you past his boundaries again.

“I tried to tell him; he wouldn’t listen.”

Jill hums under her breath a moment and shuffles, “Maybe give him some time? Try him tomorrow.”

Easier said than done, “I don’t even know where he lives. He’s not going to pick up the phone if I try to call him; texts are useless.”

Your friend’s quiet for a few moments, considering—and then a sound leaves her lips and you picture a lightbulb going off on her facial expression. “But you know where he works.”

You stand outside the café that Austin works at for what feels like a long time, staring at the sign and pacing back and forth to your car parked down the street. You really hope no one is watching you because you probably looks crazy; you feel crazy. You can’t just approach this man where he works, can you? You don’t even know if he’s working today.

But it’s…worth a try, right? Like one last shot before you just drop it.

You’re not sure that if the situations were reversed, he’d show up at your front door, so. Or maybe you’re just hoping he would.

So after spending ten minutes contemplating what to do, you finally force yourself to walk up the café door and make your way inside. It’s a hole in the wall but filled to the brim with people at tiny circular tables, waiting in line to place their order with a beautiful blonde cashier and satisfied customers adding sugar and creamer to their coffees at a station to your left.

The heady scent of fresh coffee and baked goods slam into you like a truck, leaving you almost breathless. This place blends in when it should stick out—she wonders if you didn’t know Austin if you’d come in to order an iced coffee just walking by on the street.

Your eyes graze behind the counter until you finally spot him further down, filling baked goods trays in a window that were once empty. A ton of questions hit you at once; did he make those baked goods that are at his fingertips? How does he separate the time between the café and the stand-in job? What are you going to say to him?

Before you can fully approach him, Austin glances up—and spots you.

He’s not happy to see you but he doesn’t look as pissed off as the last time you saw him, so, you consider that progress. You swallow as you walk towards the counter and your hand settles on the top of the glass, the lights above the pastries warming your palm.

“Hi.” That’s it? That’s all you can say? This conversation is going to be just as painful as the last one.

Austin doesn’t have a chance to open his mouth because another worker, a blonde girl, rushes to the counter because she must be on register, “Hi,” She smiles, bright, “We have orange scones on sale today. What can I get you?”

You smile gently at her, glancing at Austin and wondering if he’s going to step in or just…continue not saying anything to you. You suppose you don’t blame him.

“I’ll uhm, take a hazelnut latte and one of those scones,” You nod, reaching for your wallet in your purse, “Thank you.”

“I got the rest of this, Chloe,” Austin steps in as you stick your card into the reader. “Thanks.” He watches her go before turning his attention back to you, customers passing by and receiving orders that he’s already packed at the end of the counter. He hands over your receipt.

“You stalkin’ me now?” He asks but he’s not amused, drumming his fingers on top of the counter.

You let out a slow breath and he moves to fill your order, working the espresso machine with practiced ease, “You won’t text me back.”

“Maybe that’s cause I didn’t wanna talk to you,” He says pointedly before motioning towards your right, “You skipped the line.”

“I didn’t want to order anything, I just wanted to talk.”

He smirks but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes and he grabs an orange scone, wrapping it in a napkin. “Look at you, really learned how to be honest about what you want.”

“You taught me how.” You insist, trying to catch his gaze. When you finally do, you hold it there, trying to will him to listen to you—because you’re not grasping at straws, meeting him, spending time with him…being with him really taught you about parts of yourself that were missing.

Or maybe not missing, exactly, but lying dormant.

“I just want five minutes of your time, please, then I’ll leave you won’t hear from me again.”

Austin lets out a long patient sigh with a shake of his head, something between aggravation mixed with a touch of being impressed—you’re persistent, at least. He’s going to hear you out and suddenly all the words mix in a blender and sink to the bottom of your ribs; you’re almost unsure of how to put this but all you can do is try.

“You’ve been right since we first met; I didn’t know how to want things for myself even though I expected so much out of other people.”

You chew on your lower lip a moment, eyes tracing over the handsome lines of his face—now was not the time to get distracted.

“This whole thing caught me off guard, I wasn’t prepared to want you…and not just as my stand-in date, but you.”

He doesn’t hold your gaze and maybe that’s okay, he busies himself with getting other people orders, keeping the line moving but you can tell he’s still listening to you. He’s still intent on hearing you through…even though you’re almost certain it’s not going to make a difference.

You can tell by his expression, by those walls remaining firm; they’re not budging for you.

Not again.

“The money thing was a mistake. You were right, I did open up my app and think about it because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what this thing was or if I was…imaging how I felt. So I fucked up but…so did you for not sticking around and talking to me.”

Austin’s shoulders straighten; he doesn’t appreciate you calling him out. A rod appears up his spine, his posture almost towering despite the glass case between them.

“I just…that’s it,” You swallow, your thumb running over the scone in your one hand and picking up your finished latte with another. “That’s all I wanted to say. Sorry for disrupting your work.”

You turn quickly, can’t take the look in his eyes anymore, the bustle of other people around you. You’ve said what you needed to—you should feel more complete than before, right? Because at least he knows your side of things.

It’s his turn.

You push the door open, the welcome bell dinging after you as you leave.

He doesn’t come after you.

You try to shake your head as Jill orders another shot, but can’t quite stop her because the woman has a mind of her own when it comes to having a good time.

“No,” You crinkle your nose.

Jill laughs, “Oh come on—one more. You’re not calling it early already, are you? We can get fries after this.”

You sigh, a bit dramatically, but how can you turn down fries? “Fine.” You shake your head, running a hand over your face as you sit at the counter of your frequent bar, “I’ll be back though.”

You slide off the barstool, motioning she should save your seat as you put your purse on it. She grins, cups your cheeks with her hands and plants a kiss on your forehead. You shoo her off, moving through the crowd to the restroom. Once you’ve used the bathroom and spend a little time with a cold and wet paper towel to the back of your neck, you come back out and nearly run someone over—

And blink because—

“Austin.”

It’s been a few months since you’ve seen him but fuck, he looks just as amazing as he did when you tried to explain yourself in the café. Wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, boots and a white button down, he’s got a leather jacket on as well, just a bit more scruff to his face.

“I was wonderin’ if you were gonna be here.” But it’s…contemplative, thoughtful, like he might have actually planned on trying to find you in the bar where you met.

You feel like the world might be spinning off its axis. “Here I am.”

He smiles a little, glancing over his shoulder and fuck, you wonder if he’s here with someone and—you’re pleasantly surprised that it doesn’t cause some adverse reaction. No punch in your gut that you completely screwed everything up. Time, it seems, does heal some wounds.

Maybe not heal, scar at the very least.

“I saw you post somethin’ on your instastory and I was…well I was hopin’…” He kinda trails off and two thoughts slam into your body like a freight train. One, he sounds…nervous? Which you feel like is very unlike him, given what you’ve been through together. And second? It actually sounds like he knew you were here and he meant to find you on purpose.

“Can we talk?” He asks, “Maybe outside?”

“Yes,” And god, you hope you don’t say that too fast. “Fresh air sounds good.”

As you begin to walk outside with him, you text Jill letting her know where you’re going (and with who). She sends you exactly three text messages in response that you don’t dare look at.

You take in a deep breath in once you get outside, the cool air settling over you like a bucket of cold water. You almost wish you grabbed your jacket from the bar but…dragging Austin over there towards Jill would have been such a bad idea.

It’s fine—the air is refreshing, a bit sobering and this conversation probably won’t last long either way. Taking in a breath, you turn to look at him, a soft smile on your face as you wrap your arms around yourself.

“So…”

Austin clears his throat, “You uh—?” He motions to his jacket and you’re not quite strong enough to deny his offer, so you gently nod your head. Austin slips off his leather jacket and hands it to you and you put it on.

A soft noise of approval leaves your lips as your arms go through the sleeves, a little bit long, feeling perfect though when you zip it up. The lingering scent of his cologne and skin is enough to almost knock you on your knees.

“Thank you.” You whisper, curling your hair around your ear.

You know that Austin is gathering his thoughts, but waiting almost somehow feels worse. You’re just…not sure what to do with yourself other than stare at him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that,” He finally says, “At your place?” It’s like the tension start to unwind from your shoulder at that, you almost have to physically swallow over your words so you can let him speak. “Just…felt like what we did, it was real—and—”

“It was real,” You assure him, can’t allow him to think otherwise, “I know this is going to sound cliché but…opening that cash app had everything to do with me, not you. I wasn’t second-guessing what happened.”

Austin gently waves you off, “It’s not your fault, I—I’m so used to things bein’ a business transaction that I just jumped to conclusions.”

You give him a small smile and it feels good? to be on the same page after all this time but…it’s not like, “It’s okay,” You curl your hair around your ear, “I’m not sure where something like this could go. I wouldn’t ask you to quit a job that’s clearly lucrative.”

Austin nods softly, “Well you don’t have to, because I already have.”

You’re not sure why what he says doesn’t register right away, you’re kinda just staring at him, wrapped up in his leather jacket, people passing you both on the sidewalk as you stand outside this bar.

Then you blink, “What?”

He smirks, running a hand through his hair as he nods, “Yeah, I uh—just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

You feel like your brain might be short circuiting, “But about acting? What about L.A.?”

A soft laugh rumbles in his throat, “I can still do L.A. Bein’ an actor isn’t goin’ anywhere.”

And you know that he still has a café job, that he can find other jobs to satisfy what he wants in terms of collecting money but…somehow you’re worried he’s traded one thing in for another. Even though Austin doesn’t look like he has any regrets as he takes a step towards you. His hands gently rest on your arms, sliding down, like he’s waiting for you to push him away.

When you don’t—

“You're not the only one goin' after what they want.”

You can’t stop a small laugh from slipping from your lips and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press yourself up on your toes and kiss him. His arms wrap around you automatically, drawing you closer, his one hand cupping the back of your neck.

It feels like you’re kissing for a long time, or maybe it’s just felt too long since you’ve kissed. Either way, pulling away makes you feel a bit breathless and Austin smiles, pressing your foreheads together for a moment.

It feels like starting over, or maybe even better, a new chapter.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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renx01 · 5 months

Text

Too Sweet

Prompt: Inspired by the Hozier song Pairing: Harry Hart x (Kingsman!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: age gap, mutual pining, angst Word count: 6495

Masterlist

You’d joined Kingsman only five years ago, and over time you’ve become a well-respected agent, code-named Tristan. Merlin, who is your uncle, was the one who had proposed you as a candidate and helped you prepare for the role while you were still in your early twenties. The other candidates had been good, but you were nearly flawless, only taking calculated risks and never letting your emotions rule your decision making. Control over your emotions was something you always excelled in, and it tremendously helped you make strides as an agent during the initial few months and first year. This caused you to rise in rank quite quickly, making you go on more solo missions or accompanying Galahad or Percival whenever they needed assistance. Today, you’re helping your uncle instead, hacking into some cameras and security networks so he’ll be able to tell Lancelot and Galahad where to go next and what they should be looking out for. It’s something you do from time to time, mostly upon Merlin’s request when he finds the mission too complicated to oversee on his own.

‘The main control room should be south from where they are now.’ You pull up the map on the big screen which hangs in front of you and Merlin, pointing out where Galahad and Lancelot should be going next. As he’s relaying the information to the other men, you hack into the mainframe the criminal organisation and start going through the different files. ‘Any updates about the nuclear files?’ Galahad’s voice comes through the speakers and Merlin looks at you. ‘Working on it. Just focus on getting to that room.’ The screen in front of you shows Lancelot’s feed. He’s following Galahad through the many hallways and twists and turns they take, taking down guards whenever they come across them. Their moves are deliberate, quick and efficient. You turn back to your screen and after a few minutes you’re finally able to access the file Galahad had asked for. ‘I’m sending you the file now, Galahad.’ ‘Thanks Tristan.’ He replies. They have finally reached the door to the control room. Lancelot holds his watch against it and it opens. Silently, the two men enter the room. ‘Lancelot, I need you to connect us to the controls.’ Merlin states and the other man follows the order. Your screens fill with the necessary information and you start working on fully disarming and disabling the system. ‘Galahad, please flip the green switch on your right.’ You request. Before he can really do so, a loud bang interrupts him, followed by the sound of shots. ‘Lancelot, you take those men while Galahad follows Tristan’s orders.’ Merlin’s Scottish accent seems thicker momentarily. You’ve noticed it only really happened when he was in more stressful situations; one time when you almost got kidnapped, it was so thick you could barely understand him despite having a mostly Scottish family. Calmly, you instruct Galahad what buttons to press and switches to flip. After a few minutes of him following your lead as you type away at your computer, you’re done. ‘Galahad. Lancelot. The system has fully been disabled and disarmed. Get back to the jet.’ They start running through the building and Merlin glances at you, giving you a small smile before going back to helping them follow the quickest route out of the building.

‘You did well, Tristan.’ Merlin ruffles your hair and you smile at him. ‘Thanks. You didn’t do too badly yourself, old man.’ He laughs and lightly punches your arm. ‘I’m not that old, your mother is 10 years older than I am.’ You snort and teasingly say, ‘And you Merlin, are 12 years older than I am.’ After that comment, a comfortable silence settles between you. There were a few more tasks you had to complete before tomorrow, so you decided you would spend the evening and night at the mansion. About an hour after the mission finished, Merlin leaves, leaving you alone in front of the large screen filled with documents. Quietly, you continue working for a few more hours before you call it a night. You’d finished your side of the report, only needing Galahad and Lancelot for the final few details. You’ll probably ask them about those during the debrief tomorrow afternoon.

Once you’ve locked your computer and turned off all the lights, you silently walk to the kitchen, where you start making a pot of tea. The room is dark, as you only turned on the light above the stove. A sound from behind you catches your attention. Looking back, you see that your two colleagues have just returned from their mission. ‘Evening gentlemen.’ You greet them. ‘Tristan, good evening.’ Galahad walks up and stands next to you, just as the water starts boiling. ‘Would you like a cup?’ Your hands continue moving, putting in the tea egg to let the leaves steep. He hums in response as he grabs two more cups. ‘Chamomile?’ Galahad quietly asks and you nod. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you while Lancelot leaves the room momentarily to put some of their things away. Once the tea has sufficiently gained colour and flavour, you pour some into the three cups. Grabbing your own, you sit down next to the chair you’d draped your suit jacket over. Harry sits down across from you and puts down Lancelot’s cup next to him. You both quietly drink your tea, your eyes scanning that day’s paper. When you look up, you notice his eyes are trained on you, making you a bit nervous. Before you can say anything, though, Lancelot walks back in and starts talking about their flight back to England and the newest Royal scandal of the week. The other man’s attention shifts to his colleague who is talking excitedly. Your eyes scan Galahad’s features. He is handsome, smart, quick-witted, and a gentleman. A combination which has led you to, over time, develop a bit of a crush on your colleague.

‘Tristan, what do you think?’

You turn your head to face the other man. ‘I think the situation escalated unnecessarily, had the royal family handled it properly, this would’ve never become public.’ He smiles and Galahad interjects. ‘I agree with Tristan, this situation could have easily been avoided.’ The two men continue talking and you sip your tea. ‘Gentlemen, I’m heading off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the debrief.’ You stand up and put your cup into the dishwasher. It was already 11 o’clock. ‘Tristan,’ Galahad stands up, ‘if you’ll allow me, I’ll walk you back to your room.’ Smiling, you nod. ‘Of course Galahad; thank you.’ He leaves the room with you and as you walk, he leans sideways in your direction and whispers. ‘Thanks Tristan. I was a bit tired of Lancelot talking. He’s been going without pause from the moment we got on the jet.’ It didn’t surprise you in the least. ‘Of course Galahad. Lancelot tends to talk quite a lot; I suspect his favourite sound may be his own voice.’ He snorts. ‘I suspect you might be correct.’ The hallways are silent except for your quiet footsteps and conversation. The distance between the two of you seems to become smaller as you continue walking and talking; until you stop in front of your door. ‘Galahad, thank you for accompanying me.’ You turn to face him and smile. ‘Of course Tristan, it was my pleasure.’ His voice was quiet. The silence between you is tense and Harry seems to slowly be leaning closer as he holds your eye contact. Moments, which feel like hours pass, but he doesn’t make a move. Your noses almost touch when he seems to snap out of a sort of trance and clears his throat, pulling back quickly. ‘Ah Tristan, I should get going. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ As he walks away, you stand frozen in your doorway.

The following morning you watch the sunrise outside, a hot cup of coffee in your hand. It seems no one else is up yet. You’ve left your suit jacket in your room and have your sleeves rolled up, the crisp air touching your form. Behind you, you hear your dog walking and sniffing around. ‘Ares.’ The Doberman walks to your side. ‘Want to go for a walk?’ He barks and you pet him behind his ears. ‘Let’s go.’ You smile and he runs into the field in front of you, with you following calmly. Upon your return, you’re greeted by Merlin, who looks to have woken up not too long ago. ‘Morning Tristan.’ Ares excitedly runs up to the Scot. ‘Morning to you too Ares.’ He puts down his coffee and pets the dog with both his hands. ‘You’ve got an awful lot of energy today, haven’t you?’ ‘He really does, he’s been running around for over an hour already.’ You laugh. ‘I’ll bring Albion to play with him later today.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘I’ll be back momentarily, can you watch Ares for a second?’ He nods. ‘Thanks.’ you say and smile at him. You walk into the kitchen through the open doors. Putting down your cup, you start brewing another cup of coffee. The kitchen is still quiet, but you know that more of the agents that have stayed the night will probably start walking in soon, though it probably won’t be many. Lancelot and Galahad you knew for sure, others you weren’t too certain about. ‘Morning Lancelot.’ You say as you hear the man walk in. ‘Agent Tristan.’ He greets. ‘Want some coffee?’ ‘Yes please.’ The smell of another fresh coffee fills the air. You smile as you hand him a cup. ‘You feeling alright?’ ‘I will once I finish this.’He groans before the two of you clink your cups. ‘See you at the briefing in an hour.’

You spent that hour with Merlin and Ares, mostly in silence. The Doberman is as happy as can be, with the Scot and you taking turns throwing a ball into the field and having the dog return it. It was nice spending time with your uncle like this. Usually you have to be quite serious around him, as you mostly speak to him here, at Kingsman. Now, you can, even if it’s just for a moment, relax and have the relationship you used to have when you were younger and neither of you were a part of the secret service. ‘Uncle Hamish, we should probably get ready for the briefing.’ You say as Ares runs into the distance. He has his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. ‘Just five more minutes; Galahad will be late anyway, he seemed a bit off yesterday evening when I saw him.’ That last comment piques your interest, but you decide not to pry. The meeting room was still empty when you walked into it with your uncle. A few minutes pass before, you are joined by Lancelot, who is, once again, talking excitedly. While you don’t necessarily have the energy for him, you stay professional and listen with intent. He is still talking your ears off when Galahad finally arrives, about five minutes late. Despite Merlin having made a comment, it is still quite unusual for him to be late.

‘Glad you could join us, Agent Galahad.’ Merlin calls out from the far end of the room as the other man enters. ‘Terribly sorry for my tardiness.’ Harry excuses himself. ‘Morning Galahad.’ Lancelot greets him, instead you just wave at the agent. Everyone sits in their usual spots, with Galahad across from you and Merlin to your left, though he almost immediately stands up, walking in front of the screen which shows the most vital information related to the mission. Most of the information isn’t new to you, as you’d helped your uncle prepare. Whenever Galahad or Lancelot give additional information, which you hadn’t been able to gain before the meeting, you write it down into the report. Your attention is fully focussed on what everyone is saying, that is until you notice that Galahad’s eyes seem to linger on you a bit longer than usual whenever you make a comment. Eventually, his eyes meet yours. He quickly looks away and focuses on Merlin, who is saying something about the risks which may occur in the future. Yesterday’s mission has likely only slowed down the organisation, meaning that you’d still have to find its core and try to eliminate it. Still, all the new information which has been gained is quite useful. Your gaze reverts back to your laptop screen as you continue typing away.

‘Agent Tristan, could you please explain to these gentlemen what you did to fully disarm and disable the system?’ Merlin’s sudden attention to you surprises you, but you stand up confidently and walk to his side. Galahad’s eyes seem to burn into the back of your head as you do so. ‘So how we did it is -’ Everything goes smoothly as you explain the process thoroughly to the other agents. Hopefully, you’ll be able to join them in the field next time, rather than having to sit and watch from the sidelines to assist them from a distance. You aren’t sure that’ll actually happen however, as it really depends on what kind of mission it’ll be and what is needed of you. After a few minutes, you’re able to sit back down. Neither Lancelot, nor Galahad had any questions, which you assume is probably a good sign. There are only a few more things you need to discuss, with most of them only requiring only a little of your input from time to time, so you silently drink some tea as Lancelot and Merlin talk. Galahad is remarkably silent, only asking a few questions or making comments when he deems it necessary. Usually, he’s more talkative and tends to lead the conversation, but today he seems to have chosen to leave that to Lancelot. As your uncle is saying something about the implications of such an organisation having access to nuclear weapons, you feel another foot hit yours. At first, you ignore it; but when it happens again, you look around. It couldn’t be Merlin or Lancelot, leaving Galahad as the only suspect. You quickly look at his face but he acts as if he’s innocent. When you feel a third tap, you let your eyes meet his. The lines around his eyes crinkle mischievously, while the rest of his face doesn’t seem to change. You tap him back, your oxfords hitting the side of his silently. This time, his eyes do not divert to Merlin or Lancelot, and it almost feels as if you’re the only person in this room with him. The feeling is short lived however, with his gaze shifting away when his name is mentioned by one of the other men. Still, his foot remains in place, connecting the two of you. Despite the intimate gesture, his feelings for you remain unclear.

The meeting comes to an end, you and Galahad act as if nothing happened when you stand up. Everyone leaves the room and as he passes you, he slips a small folded note into your hand. You do not get a chance to read it though, as Merlin immediately starts up a conversation with you as you walk the wing of the mansion where the individual kingsman offices are located. ‘Tristan, could you send me the report after lunch?’ You nod. ‘As long as we’re going on a walk with Ares and Albion after, you know he’s missed you lately, and this morning wasn’t enough to make up for that.’ He laughs. ‘Of course.’ Together, you walk into Merlin’s office, where you quickly discuss the last few details before you leave for your own. There, you work on the report for a bit longer, adding the finishing touches before sending it to Merlin. Ares lays in the corner of your office, playing with one of his toys quietly. The folded piece of paper sits next to your keyboard, still not read. Once you’ve finally finished the report, you grab and slowly unfold it. Galahad’s handwriting is neat, but not delicate.

Tristan,

Meet me in the library at 21:00 tonight.

Yours faithfully,

‘I suppose I’ll go read in the library tonight, Ares.’ You whisper before you put the note into your drawer and motion your dog to follow you to the kitchens to have lunch. He walks at your side when you enter, and calmly waits as you brew tea and make lunch. Once it’s ready, you decide to eat it outside, as the weather is quite nice today and Ares will be able to run around before you go for the walk with Merlin. Half an hour passes before you’re joined by your uncle, who has his dog, Albion, with him. She’s a border collie who is usually quite serious and focused, but gets very excited when she gets to play with Ares. The two of them are best friends, so you and Merlin try to have them meet up and go on a long walk at least once a week. This doesn’t always happen though, as duty calls whenever it does, resulting in having to cancel quite frequently, which happened the past few weeks. Today isn't such a day though, and once you both finish your lunch, the four of you start walking your usual round around the grounds. You and Merlin chat away about anything and everything while Ares and Albion run around together and fetch a tennis ball from time to time. It’s calm and you’re enjoying yourself. It’s always quite nice to spend your time like this. All nice things must come to an end though, and after forty-five minutes of walking, you have to return to work. ‘See you later Tristan.’ Merlin says before walking to his office, taking Albion with him. ‘Later.’ You wave before walking in the opposite direction. Galahad hadn’t been there when you returned from your walk, so you assume he’s at the shop to get a few things in order. It’s probably for the better, as you aren’t sure what you would do if you were to cross him in the hallway right now. He’s constantly giving you mixed signals. Yesterday, he seemed to lean in to kiss you before pulling away suddenly. Today, he almost continuously avoided your gaze, yet wanted to stay connected in some way that wasn’t visible to others, and he wrote you a note telling you to meet him later.

‘Fuck.’

You whisper to yourself. You’re falling for him, hard. You have been for a long time. You always told yourself it was merely a crush, but you’re unable to deny it any longer. This revelation isn’t your biggest problem though. Your biggest problem is whether he would even be interested, as he’s constantly giving those mixed signals. Tonight you’d decide whether you’ll ever act upon your feelings or not. You’d never particularly cared for the kingsman code which prohibits any relationships, though it hasn’t been necessary for you to break it either, as you hadn’t been interested in any relationships in the first place. Kingsman always comes first in your life. This means that you’ve never actually taken the time to think of finding a partner or date around. What you are worried about, is that Galahad is someone that always follows the rules and doesn’t even think about bending, let alone breaking, them. This may be an explanation for him being so hot and cold with you. Still, it’s confusing and worries you. ‘Good afternoon agent Tristan, is everything alright?’ Arthur greeting you pulls you out of your thoughts and you realise you’re standing in front of the door which leads into your office, your hand on the doorknob. You have probably been standing there for a couple of minutes now. Quickly you turn the knob and start walking in. ‘Ah yes Arthur, I was just lost in thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to attend to.’ You smile at him before swiftly closing the door once Ares has entered the room as well.

The evening couldn’t come soon enough. Thinking of whatever Galahad could possibly tell you continued racing through your mind the entire afternoon, meaning that you were quite distracted for the most part. Merlin visited you shortly before dinner to discuss the report and what he altered before sending it off to Arthur. While he clearly noticed that you were distracted, he decided against saying anything about it and left. Shortly thereafter, you decided it’d be a good idea to go for another walk with Ares, as it’s a good way of distancing yourself from the setting in which you usually see Galahad. This time, though, the walk lasts for several hours, with the sun starting to set once you start heading back to HQ. When you arrive back at HQ, it’s nearly nine, so you decide to bring the Doberman to your office before heading to the library. Galahad, or Harry which you rarely ever refer to him as, is already there, waiting for you. He turns to face you and smiles when you enter before greeting you. ‘I’m glad you could make it agent Tristan.’ You nod nervously but try to sound casual. ‘Of course, any time, Galahad.’ His eyes look over your form and you do the same. The tension between the two of you is palpable but you try to ignore it as best as you can. For a moment, nothing happens. The both of you stay still, frozen in place. Suddenly Galahad moves again and walks up to you. In a moment of passion, he grabs your face and kisses you deeply. It’s so intense it feels as if he’s bruising your lips. When you don’t move, he starts pulling back. Quickly, you pull him to you once more and kiss back, one of your hands in his hair and the other pulling his tie. The two of you fight for dominance and he pushes you against one of the bookshelves, his left hand now resting on your hip. Eventually, he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. For minutes, the two of you stand like this, silently enjoying each other's presence and closeness. ‘Tristan.’ He whispers. ‘Yes Galahad?’ The man sighs and slowly leaves your embrace. ‘Shit.’ You hear him mutter under his breath. ‘Shit shit shit.’ He backs away, as if he’s only just realised what happened. ‘Galahad, what’s going on?’ ‘I cannot do this Tristan.’ His voice sounds almost desperate. ‘Galahad, what do you mean you cannot do this?’ He doesn’t reply and walks away, leaving you alone in the library.

You didn’t see Galahad the rest of that week and you threw yourself into work, only leaving your office to go out with Ares. If you hadn’t had him, you probably wouldn’t have left your office in the first place. That Friday morning, Merlin comes in unannounced and finds you sleeping with your head on your desk. He wakes you and you slowly sit up straight. Your suit jacket is discarded somewhere in a corner and you look a bit of a mess with your hair all dishevelled. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling alright Tristan? You really shouldn’t be overworking yourself.’ Your uncle asks you, he sounds quite worried. ‘I’m fine Merlin, I promise.’ He sighs. ‘You do not look or act as if you’re fine. What’s going on?’ You just shake your head. ‘It’s nothing really, I’ve just had to catch up on some work. Please don’t fret it.’ ‘We both know that’s a lie, Tristan. You’re always ahead of everyone when it comes to paperwork.’ He stops for a moment. ‘Look, both you and Galahad have been acting off all week and we can’t have that. I don’t know if there’s anything going on between the two of you, but I want you to fix it, especially if it’s affecting you like this.’ His voice is stern. ‘You should go talk to Galahad then, I’m not the guilty one here.’ You stand up for the first time in what feels like years, your knees and back hurting with every move. ‘I don’t have the energy for all this, go talk to him if you want to know more.’ Silently, you usher him out of your office and shut the door behind him. While you love your uncle, you really couldn’t deal with this right now.

The scotch in the corner of your office had been a little too appealing. That combined with the very limited amount of food you’d had over the past few days, made it very easy for you to become drunk. You sit in your chair feeling very sorry for yourself, as you do in such situations. ‘You know Ares, I’ll go talk to that asshole. He kisses me like that and then he avoids me all week. I suppose that’s not very gentlemanly of him.’ Standing up, you feel dizzy and you have to grab a hold of your desk to keep standing. The world seems to be turning and Ares looks to have multiple heads. ‘Fuck.’ You hadn’t realised how badly the scotch had affected you. Still, that didn’t stop you, and you stumble through your office door. The hallway is empty when you enter it, as is usual at this time of night in HQ. Galahad’s office is only a few doors down and you try to walk there as normally as you can. Taking a deep breath, you knock multiple times. When there’s no immediate answer, you knock again, but more loudly. ‘Galahad, I know you’re in there.’ Your voice is loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the door, but not loud enough to wake any of the other kingsmen. Though they probably wouldn’t wake up unless you screamed loudly enough for it to reach the other side of the estate. Moments pass, but the door is eventually opened by the agent. ‘Tristan.’ He greets you solemnly. ‘I need to talk to you, you pretentious asshole.’ The words fall out of your mouth and there is no stopping them. ‘You are no gentleman. You invite someone to talk to them alone after MONTHS, LITERAL MONTHS, of looking at each other longingly and flirting, then kiss them in the way you did and JUST WALK AWAY LIKE THAT?????’ He finally looks up at you and realises the state that you’re in. ‘WHAT IN THE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU INCOMPETENT PRICK????’ You jab your finger into his chest. ‘Tristan, you are in no state to discuss this, please go to bed.’ He grabs your hand. ‘YES I AM, I AM A GROWN ADULT THAT CAN MAKE THEIR OWN DECISIONS. YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER.’ ‘Yes you are, but you’re currently incapable of making any good decisions. So, please quiet down before you wake up Mr. Pickle.’ Before you’re able to respond, he grabs you and surprisingly easily throws you over his shoulder. ‘Now, I’ll be escorting you to bed, as you don’t seem to be capable of doing that yourself.’ He completely ignores your protests, which continue for about five minutes before you realise there’s nothing you can do about this situation. He only puts you down when you’re in front of your bedroom door, as he needs you to open it. ‘I’m going to put you down, but please stay quiet. I don’t want you to wake everyone up.’ You nod and mutter to yourself as he puts you down. ‘Still an asshole though.’ He laughs to himself. When you finally have both your feet on the ground again, you’re stable momentarily before you start falling over again. Galahad notices and steadies you by grabbing your shoulders. ‘Careful now, sweetness.’ His lips touch the shell of your ear and you slowly feel yourself going red. You ignore it though, steadying yourself with his help before walking to your door and unlocking it. When you try to open it you almost fall into your own room and so Harry catches you, before the world around you slowly goes dark.

The following morning you wake up in your own bed, not remembering how you got there in the first place. Ares sits next to your bed, looking up at you as you wake. ‘Morning, my boy.’ Your voice sounds more like a groan than anything else. He nudges your arm and softly barks when you eventually sit up. The light hurts your eyes as you look around, so you close your eyes and lay back down. Once you finally open them again, you notice that there’s a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol next to your bed. ‘Who put that there?’ You look at Ares and pet him before taking one of the pills followed by a gulp of water. The headache you have is slowly driving you insane, so hopefully this’ll help. Still, it remains unclear who actually put it there after probably finding you in quite the state. Usually, you could easily hold your liquor, but apparently your body had other plans yesterday. You do realise that you’re still in your clothes from the day before. So, you decide to get out of them and put on something more comfortable before calling Merlin. ‘Morning Merlin.’ Your voice is quite hoarse. ‘Ah Tristan, I was wondering when you’d call.’ He sounds quite amused for some unknown reason. ‘What do you mean?’ The Scot laughs. ‘Well, I got a notification earlier this morning that you’d be out of the office today because you’re ill. Thing is, agent Galahad is the one who notified me, which is a bit odd to be honest.’ You groan. ‘Well he’s right about me not feeling well.’ Slowly, you lay back in your bed. Merlin didn’t talk to you for much longer after that and he remained quite vague about what Galahad had told him about the night before. Despite you desperately wanting to know what had happened the night before, you decided that would be a problem for tomorrow before heading back to sleep.

That night, a knock wakes you from your slumber. You almost jump out of your bed at the sound, scaring Ares a bit. ‘One moment please.’ You shout at the person behind the door before calming your dog. ‘I should take you out for a walk in a few, shouldn’t I? I’m so sorry Ares.’ After whispering that, you stand up and walk to your door. Opening it slowly, you reveal Merlin’s form. ‘Good evening Tristan.’ He smiles. ‘Thought I’d bring you some dinner.’ The tray he’s holding has a plate with a baked potato, some carrots and broccoli, and some beef, accompanied by a large glass of water and a cup of your favourite tea. He walks in once you’ve further opened your door, putting the tray on the small table that stands in the corner of your room. ‘Do sit down.’ His voice is soft. You do so silently, Ares laying down next to you. ‘Thank you.’ Your voice is soft and you start eating your first meal of the day. Merlin sits down across from you. ‘I do hope this was a one time thing, Tristan.’ He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand. ‘It won’t happen again, sir.’ Your voice can barely be heard from across the table. ‘Look, you’ve been doing flawlessly so far, so getting drunk and insulting go Galahad isn’t something that’ll affect you or your career in any way. It can, however, have an effect on how well you’re able to work with him in the foreseeable future.’ Your eyes don’t meet his. ‘Now that I’ve scolded you for getting drunk and acting in the way you did, I would like to know why. Harry hasn’t wanted to tell me anything and I’m against just checking your glasses if I can ask you.’ Your plate is only half finished but you’re already full and you put down your cutlery. ‘I’m not sure you want to know.’ Leaning back, you make yourself more comfortable in your chair. ‘Galahad has really said nothing?’ He shakes his head. ‘Well then, I suppose I’ll tell you what’s going on; under the condition that this will strictly stay between the two of us. Not even Galahad can know.’ ‘Why are you being so secretive about this?’ He enquires. ‘You’ll understand once you hear the full story. Now do you promise?’ You hold out your hand with your pinky ready for him to intertwine with. And he does. ‘I promise.’ A smile creeps onto your face. This is something you’d always done with him when it comes to promises, starting when you were just a little kid. ‘So, as you may have noticed the past few weeks, there’s been some tension between me and Galahad, or Harry.’ You start. ‘But this has been an underlying issue for years now -‘

That night Merlin listened as you talked about how the situation between you and Galahad had unfolded over the past few years and more in detail about the past week or two. Understandably, it was quite a bit for him to take in, and at first he wasn’t certain how to feel or respond. If you hadn’t been who you are to him, he would’ve been fine with it. But with the familial ties you have, and the fact that he and Galahad are best friends, made him hesitate. Yet, he promises to keep quiet and have you and the other man resolve it by yourselves. He would, however, urge his friend to do so if the issue isn’t resolved within a week, meaning that you’ll have to hurry up when it comes to talking things out. He did make clear that he isn’t against you having a relationship with the older man, his tone may have even been slightly supportive, which was somewhat unexpected.

The next time you finally see Harry it’s Sunday. Exactly three days since you’d last seen him and had had the drunken encounter. There you stood, in front of his apartment, your heart pounding in your throat. He’d been at the shop the past few days while you were at the mansion. Merlin was quite convinced that Galahad was, in fact, avoiding you, so he’d suggested you go visit him that evening. Well, suggested was quite a loose term in this case. It was more that Merlin just dropped you off here and told you to ‘Go ahead and talk it out’. Obviously, this was his way of forcing you to do so, as he is quite sick of having the two of you avoiding each other.

Finally, you ring the doorbell and you stand there waiting nervously for Galahad to answer. He does after a few minutes and the confusion is quite evident on his face. When he doesn’t say anything, you start talking. ‘Sorry to bother you Galahad, but Merlin’s dropped me off so we can talk things out.’ You smile sheepishly and he sighs before letting you in. You have never been inside his home before, so you look around curiously as he leads you into his kitchen. He was wearing his usual attire, save for the glasses. Apparently, he had been cooking dinner when you rang his doorbell. As you look around the room, not moving, he clears his throat. ‘Would you like to join me for dinner Tristan?’ The question is logical, yet you aren’t certain whether he actually wants you to join or if he’s asking it out of obligation. You’re hoping it’s the former rather than the latter. ‘If you don’t mind. Otherwise we can talk and then I’ll leave, I don’t wish to intrude Galahad.’ He motions you to sit down. ‘I would love for you to join me, I’m almost finished cooking dinner anyway, so do feel free to have a seat.’ When you do so, he turns around to face the stove once again before finishing dinner. It is a simple yet delicious meal, and you appreciate the gesture of him inviting you to join him. It is mostly spent in silence, save for a few comments appreciating his skill, or talking about the goings on at the shop and HQ.

After dinner, Harry offers you a cup of tea before pouring one for himself and sitting down across from you. It is silent for a few minutes before he finally speaks again. ‘I would like to apologise.’ His voice is soft. ‘I should’ve handled this situation differently and not have run away in the way I did.’ As he says this, his eyes divert. ‘It is just that I was, and still am, quite uncertain of how to go about this. I do not wish to hurt you, but in my attempt to do so I did the opposite of what I had intended. I thought you were too pure, too kind. You’re too sweet, too sweet for a bitter man like me. Yet here I am, madly in love with you and confessing my feelings.’ When he finishes talking he looks you in the eye once more. There’s emotion in them, seemingly a mix of sadness and regret. ‘Galahad, I don’t know what to say.’ You pause. ‘I understand why you may have hesitated to approach me in the way you did, however, I am quite confused as to why you ran away so suddenly. You are the one that made the initial move and I never approached you because you were likely to have reservations about breaking kingsman code, yet you gave me hope by inviting me to the library to talk. And for a moment, when you kissed me, I thought we could be together, even if it was just for a moment.’ Slowly, you stand up from your chair. Putting down your cup of tea in the process. ‘Then you went ahead and ripped my heart out by walking away like that. As if I mean nothing to you, as if you weren’t the one that made the first move.’ You raise your voice a bit, but try to stay calm. Following your example, he stands up as well and starts walking towards you. ‘I truly am sorry but it is up to you whether or not you forgive me.’ He looks down into your eyes. ‘What will happen if I forgive you, Harry?’ The two of you are almost touching each other, only a few centimetres between your faces. ‘I shall take you on a date and be your partner. That is, if you’ll have me.’ Rather than answering him with words, you pull his tie and kiss him passionately.

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