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spencerspecifics · 1 year

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Here’s links to chapter one, two, and three :)

TW// conversations pertaining to dead victims/descriptive imagery of stab wounds and death caused by stab wounds, as well as blood is mentioned. I would like to specify, however, that this is a completely fictional case the team is working on within my fic. I'm not trying to make anything too gorey or crazy, this is purely to further the plot line for moreid (but I find it important to tell a good story in all ways, and that means I will go into details this case for better story building and immersion) thanks!

Technical Analyst (ch.4)

Derek had left the round table room almost immediately after the meeting was over, he had to grab his things- and he didn’t want to be in the vicinity near Emily after the meeting. She was sure to say something, and Derek didn’t want to hear it.

Thankfully, he caught a break, as he got his bag, and was able to take the elevator alone.

As he rode the elevator down, he decided to call Garcia- for no other reason other than he was missing her, “Hey babygirl,”

“Hey there, handsome!” Garcia answered in her famous over the top, peppy manner. “You just got a case, right?”

“How’d you know?” Derek asked curiously, fiddling with his bags straps as the elevator continued to whir downwards into the parking garage, he was going to drive himself to the airport- he got free parking since it was federal business, after all.

“I get cc’d on all new cases J.J. accepts,” Garcia explained, “Well, that, and Reid just sent me a worried email.”

The elevator arrived at the garage, the doors sliding open slowly after a moment, Morgan stepped out; “Worried how?” He asked, he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Oh, it’s just first day on the job jitters,” Garcia waved off any of Derek’s concern. “Spencer’s not done technical analysis work before. He went from being on the field of domestic terrorism, to off on the sidelines. It sucks.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, I’d leave the bureau if that happened to me.” Derek mumbled into the phone as he got to his car, loading his go bag into the passenger side before moving his way around the vehicle, to the drivers side.

“Mhm, anyways, I’m off to see a musical! I got a front row seat, I’m so excited. I think it’s an off brand version of wicked, or something!” Garcia continued on excitedly about the musical that was or wasn’t a rip off- Derek didn’t understand musical theater very well, but he listened happily as he pulled his car out of the garage and started his drive over to the airport.

Spencer was a bit worried, absolutely he was. That’s why he had emailed Garcia in the first place. He went back to his incredibly too small office and it was the first thing he did. The email wasn’t anything too crazy- subject line just read “Help”, and Reid didn’t allude to his fear of making a fool of himself; instead he focused on clear objective truths, asking for a reminder on how to crack through sealed records and files incase needed, as well as where he should even start with the shower curtains used to wrap the victims. Because in his opinion, that was a pretty solid lead.

Garcia responded to his email not long after, telling him not to worry- she knew he was capable and able to handle these kind of challenges. She gave him her two cents on the shower curtain angle, see if crime scene unit found any label or identifiers on it, and also see if there’s any large suppliers to the area that make that specific kind of curtain. She ended her email response with “you don’t gotta worry! I’m only a call away. And Derek can help too (*^▽^*) you got this!”.

Of course Penelope ended her email on such a sweet, positive note, with an emoticon as well. Reid smiled as he read the message out on the screen. She was always so optimistic, at times he had to wonder if it was all a facade- but Garcia was so positive, if she was faking this she would’ve cracked by now. Reid loved her energy, he needs to follow in her footsteps in the ways of positivity and become more optimistic. He shouldn’t dwell in the negatives, even though it was easy for him to do.

Reid moved on, exiting out the particular email chain and starting on the search for the shower curtains, he emailed the crime scene unit asking for any identifiers they might’ve found on them, as well as he looked through the crime scene photos again to see if he could find anything, which was hard since the victims blood was all over them. He couldn’t see much, so while he waited for crime scene to message him back, he started on his own research.

He wanted to look into the two victims card activity, last seen whereabouts, maybe they were in the same restaurant or bar before their death. There had to be a clue around there somewhere.

“Okay, what did the two victims have in common?” Rossi asked the group as they were sat in the plane, it hadn’t even taken off yet- the pilot was still checking whatever had to be looked over before they could safely get in the air.

Derek was still getting comfortable in one of the lounge chairs sat around one of the tables in the plane, Rossi was sat across from him. J.J. and Emily were sat on the couch behind them, and Hotch was sat alone at a table across the row from Rossi and Morgan, each was settling themselves in; taking their jackets off and pulling the case file out of their bags.

“Both are white men, late twenties early thirties. The first victim, Jakob, has more stab wounds than the second.” Hotch started, Rossi nodded. “Do we know why the de-escalation in the amount of stab wounds?” Prentiss asked curiously, “There’s a witness who walked up on the unsub midkill,” J.J. explained,

“police already questioned her, but the story was that she was with her boyfriend in the bar next to the alley where Andrew Pullin was found. She stepped out for a smoke break and heard a commotion, she walked a few steps down the alley and yelled when she saw the body, the unsub was already running off by then.”

“Shows a lack of foresight- immaturity even, to kill in a public place and run off the way the unsub did.” Morgan speculated aloud. The team stayed silent in agreement, and the plane started rumbling down the track, ready for takeoff.

They’d only been sitting in silence for about ten minutes before J.J. piped up inquisitively, not about the case, but about Reid. “So our new analyst has experience with Gideon?” She asked Rossi curiously. Rossi nodded, he had the most information on the matter, everyone knew he would, so he was the one leading this conversation- even if J.J. prompted it.

“He does.” he answered simply, Prentiss chimed in, also equally interested; “So, how did he meet Gideon?” Everyone was listening in intensely, even if they were acting like they weren’t. J.J. and Emily were listening for similar motives, legitimate curiosity on a guy they had barely met before. That, and Emily would use whatever she learned as a way to throw back at Derek as proof that he must think the young doctor is cute or something. Derek would deny all of that, obviously. He was listening for simple curiosity, someone who worked with Gideon and he hadn’t heard of seemed atrocious to him. Hotchner was listening for the purposes of shutting down the conversation. He didn’t want the team interested in the wrong things, he needed them focused.

Rossi cleared his throat before continuing on, “Dr.Reid’s some kind of genius- kid’s got something like two or three PhD’s to his name. From my understanding, from Jason, he met him at some lectures the bureau hosted and Jason was a guest speaker at. They kept in contact and worked together.”

“So, he’s got probably years of behavioral science experience?” Derek asked, Rossi gave a curt nod and Morgan kept speaking; “So then why do we not work with him? The guy’s probably smarter than Prentiss and I combined,” that earned a harsh “Hey!” Out of Emily as he spoke, but he knew she wasn’t actually offended (as that was how they rolled.), and he kept going. “It just seems weird we haven’t worked with him.”

Derek’s comments caused Hotch to laser in on him, putting a stark end to the conversation. “Morgan, Dr.Reid’s professional career choices are not a speculative manner. His work with Gideon may be useful in our case, but if you have questions about his own career, you can ask him. Same for everyone else here. We need to be focused on the case.”

That shut Derek and the rest of the team up. Derek looked back down at the case file, imagining his eyes could burn a hole through the manilla envelope. He was sure if he looked up and made any kind of eyesight with Prentiss or J.J., he’d see their matching stupid smirks.

Sue him for being curious, he wasn’t trying to do any harm. But he doubt he’d learn anything from the mysterious doctor he had somehow never seen before.

The crime scene unit responded quickly to Spencer’s inquiry on the shower curtain identifiers. Unfortunately for him, it was a bit of a dead end- it was a generic shower curtain brand, sold and supplied at almost every retail store in the area. No way to track where or when it could’ve been sold. He emailed them back a thanks anyways, just to be polite.

He did have more luck with the victims last bank statements shortly before their death- and he knew it would be worthwhile to call the team and let them know about this. Garcia told him to as well, she said it wasn’t worth waiting for them to land to get them the information. The sooner, the better.

So, Spencer fired up the small, somewhat low quality camera for a video call, and sent the team a call.

The team was still sitting in amicable silence when a ring broke out through the comfortable quiet, Hotch leaned forward to press the accept button, and Spencer’s face appeared on the monitor in the plane.

“Dr.Reid,” Hotch spoke once the call was securely connected, Spencer gave an awkward half wave to the camera before starting,

“I got started on the shower curtain front,” he started “And?” Rossi asked curiously. “Not a whole lot there, they’re a generic brand, practically sold at every retail store in the area. It wouldn’t be a worthwhile use of time to track everyone buying them.”

Hotchner nodded, “Anything else?” He asked Reid.

Derek couldn’t help but notice how nervous Spencer looked over the video call. Granted, he got the nervous kind of energy from the doctor in real life. Not nervous as in Spencer wasn’t sure of himself, because Derek didn’t think that was the case. It seemed more that Reid just was a bit socially awkward- and maybe for a valid reason. From his file, Derek knew the domestic terrorism unit didn’t socialize with him much. They ostracized him. For what good reason? Who knows.

Morgan thought there probably wasn’t a good enough reason to cast this guy aside, then again, he didn’t know the doctor nearly well enough.

“I looked into the last known bank activity of both victims, I used their last known purchases as well as where they were found to start a geographic profile.” Spencer spoke, the speaker of the monitor adding a grainy warmth to his voice that wasn’t in his natural octave.

The screen layout within the monitor changed, now half of the screen was camera feed of Dr.Reid, and the other half of the screen was a map with four distinct markings. One orange, one red, one blue, and one green.

“What’re we looking at here?” Hotch asked, his voice monotonous as always. Reid continued, looking down at his own screen now, no longer making eye contact with the camera; delving into his explanation.

“The orange is the first victims last card purchase, the red is where he was found dead.” The orange mark on the map was northeast, it was incredibly, a few miles away from where the body was found. The red marking was in its respective position, more central on the map and in the middle.

“What was the last purchase for the victim?” Hotchner asked, “A bar, his tab had a few drinks on it.”

“Bar, just like the one Andrew Pullin was found next to.” J.J. speculated aloud. Spencer heard her and nodded, “The green marking is the same thing, card activity for the second victim- it was a bar and grill restaurant.” He said. The green marking was more southeast, lower than the red and orange. There was a noticeable stretch of distance between the first and second victim already. And once added in where the second body was found, they were almost at the border of the city. The blue marker was towards the southeastern border of the map.

“So, what is this map telling us so far?” Morgan asked Reid curiously.

“Not enough,” Reid said with a clear, small tone of dejected in his voice, “it seems that right now, the unsub’s picking from the more eastern side, but he started in the north and went south. There’s nothing to say he’ll stay on the eastern side, even. I need more data to find a midpoint.”

“More data, you mean more bodies.” Rossi said tightly. Spencer nodded, looking down at his keyboard with an unfortunate tone about himself.

“It’s still good work, thank you Dr.Reid. Just dig into the victims personal online lives now, see if there’s anything that connects them.” Hotchner said to him.

Spencer nodded in response, he felt ashamed for not being able to provide even the smallest bit more on maybe anything geographical for the team. He didn’t want them scouring through the entire town. He wanted to help narrow things down, find the solution. Hopefully, he would. But he just wasn’t there yet.

Spencer had to do something more though, he knew he did. His hands were practically shaking as he started speaking to the team, through the video call.

“If I can, though, sir-“ Hotch gave him a look of interest, he was ready to wish Reid off and end the call.

Hotchner nodded in stoic silence, giving Reid a signal to continue.

“I think the unsub is young, there’s a lack of foresight with how the murders so far have gone. And I know there’s only two, but I got the witness report from agent jareau, and this girl almost caught him. He’s either not thinking ahead, or,” Spencer took a second to take a breath in.

“Or?” Hotchner asked, “Or he’s wanting to be seen, or almost be caught. It feels like there’s a layer of voyeurism present. He’s leaving the bodies out for public display, he’s killing in public. It’s a pattern.” Spencer stated.

That was the end of Reid’s thought, and he carefully watched the expression of the BAU team through his computer monitor. J.J. and Emily weren’t in his visual line, only Derek, Hotch, and Rossi were visible to him. Hotchner’s expression didn’t change, Derek had a thoughtful expression on his face, as did Rossi.

“Thank you Dr.Reid, we’ll consider it for the profile.” Hotchner said, Reid just gave a nod in response and pressed the ‘end call’ button. Cutting off all communication with the BAU for now.

Reid hoped he wasn’t overstepping by saying what he just did, he was praying he wasn’t burning any possible bridge with the BAU. He wasn’t trying to show them up or anything of the sort. But he’ll be damned, he knows a lot about human behavior and sciences, and he’s been dying to use it.

Reid’s hands were still the smallest bit shaking as he reached for his mouse again, starting on the online background checks of the two victims, like Hotch instructed him to do.

He was just trying to do the best job he could, after all. He’s hoping the BAU can see that.

“Voyeurism and voyeur like behavior could be a reason for the somewhat public locations of the kills.” Prentiss said after Reid had ended the video call, once again leaving the team in silence before she spoke.

Hotchner gave a small nod of agreement, “It’s certainly a possibility. But let’s not attach ourselves to any ideas quite yet, we have very limited information to go off of. When we land, J.J. will come with me to set up at the police station, Prentiss and Morgan go to where the most recent victim was found. Rossi can interview the witness again.”

Everyone understood their assignments, not speaking anymore, just nodding to Hotch. They had work to do when they land, after all. And it seemed the team needed a second to sit without anything being spoken aloud. They needed to think, what the case means for them right now, what information they have. They just had to collect their thoughts. Nothing else was heard except for the hum of the jets engine.

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Taglist: @electricsockhead @cm-whoreee @ropoto @dakka123 @sterekawesomeness @so-society-compels-to-fall @psychoanalyzing-fiction @spideypooloser (if these usernames are old/accs no longer in use plz lmk!)

If you would like to be added to my taglist, comment or message me!

#criminals minds #cm #og shit #Spencers Specific Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #cm fanfic #moreid #Derek morgan #dr. spencer reid #Emily Prentiss #Aaron Hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #jennifer aniston #jennifer jareau

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virginpornstar · 6 months

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Free Zimbabwe

My first boyfriend Zimbabwe and I may have only dated for 6 months, but it was the most intense 6 month emotional roller coaster of a toxic relationship that I may ever expereince.

The first cut is the deepest, and the first relationship is definitely one that always sticks with you.

It's been over 5 years, almost 6, since we broke up. That was the last time I ever saw him, but even all these years later he's never left my mind.

I did truly love that man. It's crazy how things can start off so beautifully in the beginning, but then by the end it's so unrecognizable from that beautiful beginning.

I don't have any regrets. Well besides agreeing to have threesomes while in a relationship, but even that is a lesson learned to know to never repeat that mistake in future relationships. So no regrets. This relationship taught me so much about myself, and who I am when I'm in love.

Even though I was 26 in my first relationship, we all are young and dumb in our first relationships.

I'd been thinking of Zimabawe a lot lately. Well every year during Cuffing Season Snapchat does send me non stop old memories of me and Zimbabwe. We dated August - February which is all of Cuffing Season, so every 6 months I'm reminded of him with photos popping up every time I open SnapChat.

I don't have Zimbabwe's number. We aren't connected on social media, since he had my blocked when we were together and pretended he didn't have social media. Along with pretending to be DL/closeted while having an IG with 70K gay followers. The entire relationship was crazy, but I just chalked it up to well this is Atlanta...

The last time I heard from Zimbabwe was when he messaged me on Instagram nearly 2 years after our breakup to apologize for how he treated me. That didn't last long, since he had a bf and we were flirting, but he was acting like he was trying to be faithful. He also backed off once he realized I'd moved away from ATL.

Part of me thought he was sending feelers to find a new victim if the old one wasn't working out. To see if he could circle back to me.

I've always suspected that was Zimbabwe's M.O. The typical bum nigga tops in Atlanta. Professional hobosexuals. They just go from bottom to bottom for a place to live, which is easy to do. There's a lot of lonely bottoms with their own places in Atlanta, and so many bum homeless tops. It's easy to get seduced and love bombed, and move in your new boo since all you want to do is spend all your time together.

I hate thinking that, because i don't want to ever feel like Zimbabwe's love for me wasn't genuine, and he's assured me many times before and after the breakup that he did genuinely love me. Since he truly had nothing and was at rock bottom of his life when we were together. Still...there's always that little doubt.

I was hoping Zimbabwe and I would cross paths while I visited Atlanta for the first time in the 4 years since I moved away. Granted we never crossed paths after we broke up and were both still in Atlanta. Granted I lived in the city and he was always in the outskirts, and he wasn't ever in the gay scene, so we never had reasons to cross paths.

I was hoping he'd see me on Jack'd, and hit me up, and we'd spend the evening together and have sex. Lack of sex was a big issue in our relationship since I wasn't on PrEP back then, and I was too scared to have sex in Atlanta. Even while in a monogamous relationship, since being poz has always been my biggest fear.

I didn't see or hear from Zimbabwe while in was in ATL. Though now I know why.

Since I have no way to reach him since I don't have his number/email/social media, I did a google search of him days after I returned home from Atlanta.

Nothing really ever comes up whenever I searched him in the past. Besides an old LinkedIn profile that hasn't been touched in years. Though something new did pop up this time. A mugshot.

I was shocked. It was definitely a recent pic. The most recent pic I'd seen of him in years. It said he was arrested in September 2022 for trespassing/public indecency.

I was shocked. Well not about the arrest. He'd been arrested while we were together, and I was freaking out after not hearing from him for over 24 hours. Also I used to search his name while we were together/freshly broken up and so many court dates would pop up for Zimbabwe. Usually unpaid speeding/parking tickets/driving violations. That man would always be in trouble with the law...I do love a bad boy.

I assumed that with the date being September 2022 that this case would've been wrapped up by now, since it was over a year ago. It's October 2023. But then I started to dive deeper down the rabbit hole.

Luckily court documents are public, and you can also search if someone is locked up. I'd never had to search for an inmate before, so this all was new to me. Learning how to look up inmates and court documents. Though I learned quickly, and I learned a lot.

I learned that the arrest was actually for attempting to steal/break into a car and indecent exposure. I'm still confused about this all. I didn't find the arrest report with full details.

My first thought was was he arrested for cruising? That's been happening in ATL lately. Everyone's always fucking in public places in Atlanta. Especially with all the content creators.

But that would explain indecent exposure, but not the attempting to break into/steal someone's car. Like was he trying to break into someone's car naked?

One time Zimbabwe did get pissed about me blogging about us, and he grabbed my laptop and stormed out into the hallway in his underwear threatening to smash my laptop, and we were arguing in the hallway. It was so ghetto.

So maybe he got into a fight with a guy he was seeing, and stormed out while naked/half naked, and tried to break into their car/steal it? Then his dick fell out, and that lead to the indecent exposure?

I have no clue. I want answers! I need to find the full arrest report. I want details!

Then when I really started digging in court records. Zimbabwe wasn't arrested in September 2022, the court records I found said he was arrested in May 2023, and he didn't get out until the Saturday I was in Atlanta.

He was locked up from May to October, for the trying to steal a car and public indecency. Which is crazy. I read his letters to the court, which are publicly available, where he's begging to be released.

Zimbabwe admits to having a mental health issue, which explains a lot. You have to be mentally ill to think it's ok to lie to someone you're dating and pretend to be someone you're not for months. Though he could just be playing that up for sympathy to get released. Bringing up his mental health issues and being a vet. Though I believe it. He always had intense mood swings, and a lot aligns with bipolar disorder. Especially the hypersexual urges, mood swings, violent outbursts, lying for no reason, pretending to be someone he's not, etc...

Though I feel bad for Zimbabwe. I feel bad this is his life currently and what he's going through. Here I was hoping I'd reconnect with my first love, and he's been locked up in Fulton County for months. That jail keeps making headlines for the terrible conditions.

As much as this man has hurt me in the past, I do still care about him. I do still love him, or have love for him. It's just crazy how much can change in 5 years, but also not.

Zimbabwe would always talk down to me when we were together. Like I was a downgrade from his previous bfs since I was broke and struggling too. Granted he got 2 cars repossessed while we were together, and he was homeless, suicidal, and a rock bottom but I still always loved him and was there for him.

It was struggle love, but I definitely was madly in love. I mean on the bright side he's now finally free from jail. Court records still list his case as open, so I don't think he's in the clear yet.

Though 5 months locked up is crazy, but trying to break into/steal a car is a felony charge. The public indecency is just a misdemeanor.

I want to talk to him still. I'm nosy and want his side of everything, but also I do still miss him.

As toxic and tumultuous as my relationship with Zimbabwe was, I did really love that man. I definitely loved him way more than BMore Bae. Zimbabwe is the one that got away in a way. Granted we needed to get away from each other, and with all these issues he's still going through all these years later, I'm glad I got away.

Yet I do always wonder how life would've been had we did continue to date, or if things would've gone differently. Granted he's clearly not matured if he's still getting arrested now like he was 5 years ago, and this time the charges are worse.

So this should be the wakeup call I need to realize that I shouldn't be reminiscing and nostalgic for an ex that literally just got out of jail less than 2 weeks ago.

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azirelfallen · 1 year

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What is happening?

So I got a job in Florida...I hate Florida (not sure if I’d mentioned that before). I worked with my therapist but ultimately had to leave my therapist (you know that whole being in Florida thing) before I’d had it fully worked out.

I get to Florida and...I hate my new job. Like was I drunk when I decided to take this job level of hate. So I tell my spouse and say I am looking for another new job. He flips out, tells me I can do whatever but he’s “selling the house and moving to Florida” no matter what I do. Bold move. This leaves me in an awkward spot of I don’t want jobs in this state.

I am applying and applying and I get an email for a job I had applied for back before I got the Florida job. Its for a position working for the US Government but in Italy. They want to interview me. I tell him and he’s all for it.

I do the interview and it goes well. They tell me to follow up with them if I don’t hear from someone within a specific time frame. I get excited and I tell him that it went well and they told me to follow up if I don’t hear from people. HE jumps into the whole looking at houses and things to do. So I start thinking, why is Italy ok but California isn’t?

So we have another chat (calmer this time) and I ask him that. I remind him that I was already feeling like his promises to me about me getting to choose where we go after the military were kind of half promises (we can go wherever you want as long as its Florida was how it felt) and that I was confused why all these other places were ok but the one place I wanted to be wasn’t.

He made a few good points about how if I get the Italy job it wouldn’t be so stressful financially because we would have sold the house and used that to pay off any remaining debts so we would be literally going without having major financial obligations that weren’t our kids. We could use his disability and retirement pay to purchase a home back in Florida which he could travel to whenever he wanted to visit because (and this is where I keyed in on the real reason) we would have the money for him to fly back periodically.

His issue with California was partially the way his career ended but mostly because we went out there and then never was able to come back to visit his family. I reminded him that as soon as we got there he had Deployed (which his parents came out to see him when he got back), then I got a job which I had to spend some time travelling for (training was out of state and his parents came out again for a few weeks to help him) and then the pandemic struck. Even once the airlines were letting people fly again, he was prohibited because he was still military and we couldn’t go more than 100 miles from the house. Once he was out of the military, he had to get his mental and physical health needs met and that unfortuantely left him without a job for over a year. Without him working we couldn’t afford to go travel and visit.

Then he said “well the kids want to go back to Florida” and I said “do they though?” He agreed that 2 of them (the oldest and the youngest) probably didn’t and were going with the flow (the youngest doesn’t want to go anywhere until she’s there) but he said my middle child wanted to go to Florida. So I said ask her. She had decided it would be fine to go because she could apprentice to be a tattoo artist under the careful gaze of family who are tattoo artists. So I told him, ask her if the tattoo thing wasn’t an option, like she couldn’t be an apprentice, would she still want to move to Florida. She said no - and she laid out her reasons which revolved around the ultimate career she wants to go into and how California has both better educational opportunities and internship/employment opportunities for her and she would prefer to stay but had found a way to make a move to Florida work for her.

Now my husband is back in a mood because he’s finally realized that the only person cheering “Florida or Bust” was him. Its not a bad mood but it makes me worry about him. Last night we talked and I reminded him that even though I am still in Florida, he can call and talk to me anytime. I reminded him that he has his therapist’s phone number and he can call her too. and I reminded him that if he starts feeling too bad and starts getting the bad thoughts again to dial 988 - the Veterans Suicide Prevention Help line that was opened this year and talk to them.

So now we’re applying for jobs back in Southern California. We both agree what was meant to happen will happen. If the house sells, we continue the move to Florida (can’t afford to buy another house in California). If we get one of the California jobs before the house sells, then we pull the house off the market and stay (while I figure out how to get back to California). If I get the Italy job...well we’ll take that one as it comes (likely house still gets sold, older kids move to Florida, youngest gets to have her overseas adventure finally and we eventually buy property in Florida)

What is happening?

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prosperingwithgary · 2 years

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What Should Go into Your Autoresponder?

Here are some helpful hints on autoresponders.

This can be very overwhelming because there is so much disinformation on autoresponders. So what should go into your autoresponders? There is so much confusion on this that I just have to weigh in. No doubt you've been told or read that you should create a fancy autoresponder sequence where each email builds upon the previous email. And that if you make it fancy enough, and complicated enough, you can get prospects to take any action you like, blah blah blah...

Your systems and predictions may be the outdated.

But guess what? You don't know how people are going to respond to it. You can make a prediction, but your guess might be 180 degrees off. So now you've come up with an elaborate system that accomplishes nothing. More importantly, building a sequential series like sections of a story might have worked 10 years ago, but these days I guarantee that even your best customers will not read and digest every one of your emails.

There are several reasons your email won't get read.

Some of your emails won't even get through, and many will be lost in a sea of OTHER emails from other marketers. No matter who you are or how famous you might be, not every message of yours will get read. Remember that. Thus each email needs to stand on its own and not rely on the reader having read and remembered something in a previous email. So what should you place in your autoresponder sequences?

Here are some ideas that flat out work at getting a response.

1. Send people to your blog. If you've got a blog with great posts full of good information, write up an email for each blog post and place it in your autoresponder. This only works for evergreen information and blog posts that don't display a date. 2. You can even tie each blog post to a product you're promoting. For example, “Here's a great product that teaches you exactly how to get traffic. And before you get that traffic pouring into your website, you'll want to make sure your page is optimized for the highest conversion possible. Here's a post on how to do that.” 3. Don't send your readers to your blog every day Break those messages up with other messages. 4. Emails that convert well. You send a broadcast email to your list and the response is phenomenal, or just plain good. So what do you do? Most marketers forget about it. But the smart money says to copy and paste that email into your autoresponder series. And yes, it's okay to send out repeat information. Some of your readers will never see it the first time, and others who did see it will appreciate the reminder. 5. Send them a question. Yes, in the autoresponder series, send them an email that asks an either/or type of question. For example, “Which do you value more – exciting new diet news or easier fat-burning exercise techniques? Reply back with one or the other in the subject line.” 6. Then follow up with both. “Are you one of those who wants the latest new diet news? Well check this out!” “Are you one of those who said you want exercise techniques that burn fat? Look at this!” You're hitting both (in two separate emails) regardless of which they answered. 7. Personal stories. You've got a ton of stories to share with others, you just don't realize it. And so long as you can relate those stories to the interests of your readers, by all means share those. Anytime you can show that you are a real person with a real life and real challenges, you're that much closer to forging a bond with your customers. After all, just like you, they want to do business with people they KNOW, like and trust. As you can see, building an autoresponder series isn't a cookie-cutter science. Best developed, it's an authentic and organically developed series of follow-up messages that help you create deeper connections with your subscribers so that you can build meaningful business relationships through building trust and connecting the value that your products offer with the needs and aspirations that your subscribers actually have. Are you up to the task of building a great autoresponder series? I hope so because once developed and refined, your autoresponder follow-up emails can work on autopilot for years to come helping to tirelessly deliver more sales and profits for your online business. Read the full article

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cityonlinementor · 2 years

Photo

8.14.22 Fall Semester is almost here! Here are some end of semester/beginning of new semester tips:

End of the Semester Tips:

1. Extend Your Course End Dates in Case of Incompletes/Emergencies: To allow students to send you Inbox/Pronto messages or access and participate in the course material, you may want to reset your “Course End Date” to a time/day beyond the default.

*I like to do this at the beginning of the semester so I don’t forget…

Directions: From the left navigation menu: Settings – Course Details – Use the drop-down menu to change the course end – Update Settings

Cara’s Video Tutorial (1:23)

2. Gradebook: Enter zeroes for any student work not submitted OR from Grades select the “gear” drop-down menu, click “Treat Ungraded as 0’s” to ensure unsubmitted assignments are scored with a zero.

Aileen’s 59 Second Video Tutorial

3. End of semester messages: If desired, send final messages to students to give them final feedback, next steps for future semesters, or information about which courses follow yours in the sequence if applicable

Screen shot tutorial

4. Backup (Export) & Download Your Canvas Course & Gradebook:

· Cara’s Video Tutorial (4:52)

· Cara’s Video Tutorial of just the Gradebook Export (2:16)

· Screenshot tutorial

5. Download any assignment submissions you want to archive locally:

Screenshot tutorial

6. You may want to do the same for Quizzes or Quiz Statistics:

Quizzes, Screenshot Tutorial

Quiz Statistics, Screenshot tutorial

Starting Fall 2022:

1. Update your Zoom links: Any meetings created before July 1, 2022 will no longer work. Log into http://www.zoom.us or http://sdccd-edu.zoom.us

Not sure how? Dave’s Faculty Tutorial (30 min)

2. Develop your materials in a Canvas Development Shell: Why? Campus Solutions is evil, meaning that if for any reason the scheduler has to make a change to the course… a number, a typo, instructor name, room change etc., Campus Solutions deletes your course shell…without any warning.

How to get a Development Shell:

Call or Chat with Canvas Faculty Support at 1-844-612-7422

· Have your 10-digit Employee ID & Course Name Ready

· Naming convention: D-Shell-Subject-Course-Firstinitiallastname

*(Ex: For my master development shell for English 101 materials, my development shell name would be: D-SHELL-ENG-101Master-AGUM)

· Magic Words: State that you are from the San Diego Community College District (don’t abbreviate or assume they know… they are a global company)

· Make sure you specifically ask for a “Canvas Development Shell”

3. Copy materials from your development shell or past courses into your new course:

Dave’s Tutorial: Copying (exporting) entire course (4:24)

Dave Giberson’s Tutorial: Copying specific, not all content from one course shell to another (2:44)

Screenshot Tutorial:

*Note: This is also a way to create a back up of your course that you can store off Canvas.

4. Check for broken links with the “Link Validator” in your Settings

5. Clean out your Inbox & Archive old messages if you want to keep them:

6. Optional: Customize your Course listing menu so you only see your current courses in the drop down or see them first (the default is alphabetical for up to 20 courses)

Want a “class” ? Dave’s Webinar on Getting Your Course Ready for the Next Semester (1:13:13)

General Reminders:

All mentor messages are on a Tumblr blog so you can easily search through the list or see what had been posted if you didn’t have access to SDCCD email or are looking for a specific link.

Tumblr Blog: Copies of all Mentor Posts from me

Useful Links You Might Want to Use or Link in Your Courses:

Canvas Community Help: If I don’t know how to do something, this is the first place I do a search. Googling your question will often bring you here.

Canvas Video Guides: I keep a small module at the top of my courses of video guides of the most common tasks students need to do such as Discussion Board, Grades, Assignments, etc. These are very short and already captioned.

SDCCD Online Pathways: SDCCD Online Pathways has many different tutorials for support and information for students and faculty

Free Online Tutoring for City College Students for Hours Outside the English Center, Math Center, and Tutorial

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petsand0 · 2 years

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Blog Online Marketing: Following The Affiliate Code For Online Profit

Why does guest blogging work? You most likely do not know that blog writers are usually individuals simply like you and me if you're not a blog writer. google news guest post have routine daytime tasks and do the majority of their blogging in the weekends and evenings. Their time is limited. And important to them. Among the crucial facts about blogging is that without material, the blog will shrivel up and all the readers will proceed. Obviously, bloggers don't want that to take place. They require material to develop traffic to build appeal and earnings. Keep in mind that when composing a visitor blog post you are composing an article, not an advert. Do not make your guest post advertising and litter it with reasons why the reader must buy products or services from your site. It needs to be neutral, useful and have some real worth to the blog site or website owner who is going to publish it. Likewise, you might wish to invest an excellent amount of cash in learning how to visitor blog and might be encouraged to pay somebody to teach you how. Think thoroughly about selecting who you want as a visitor blogging mentor. In easy terms, visitor blogging is merely the process of producing content and having it released in another site to build your reputation along with drive traffic to your own blog site. You are actually providing excellent material totally free. Although you do not make money for your efforts, you will benefit from them via the targeted traffic that is driven to your site or your own blog site. This is not to point out the increase in your blog's online search engine rankings as a result of the link you dropped. The larger and more prominent the website, the more benefits that you can gain. As a basic guideline, it's finest that you compose guest posts only on blogs that have better positions on the online search engine results page than yours. This makes the most of the outcomes you receive. Thanks to goggle's blog site search, it isn't tough to find a hundred blogs in your niche. However, the finest websites to submit guest posts to are: A. accepting them and B. blogs you already check out and take pleasure in. Opt for the websites you already know before you begin trying to find new ones. Believe me, even if the site is huge, as long as they mention that they accept guest posts then you should be able to get released there. Then you will require to work on it up until you can, if you can't compose something good enough. Show Some Character - Don't make your material just a bunch of statistics and realities. Put your idea into it and include depth and meaning. Utilize your experience and knowledge to include layers of interest. By including a little of your personality to your material, you are supplying something that nobody else has on their blog site. When a blogger accepts your guest post, you still need to follow up with e-mails as the date approaches that it is going to be released on. If you offer them a friendly suggestion prior to the date of publication, individuals forget things and they appreciate. I can actually count on both hands the variety of times my post was forgotten by the author and rescheduled, so now I like to remind them ahead of time. This way I won't need to rely on my toes also. Now, you require to compose an excellent guest blog site post. When you complete the post, email it to the blog owner. Ensure it is nicely formatted so all they need to do is copy and paste it. You desire to make it as simple as possible for the owner. The title you select for your post is extremely crucial because this is what will appear in the online search engine, links, RSS feeds, social media websites and other places. A great title will figure out if the post receives readership because it forms the decision on whether people read the short article. No one will read your well-researched post if you have helpful material but the title does not grab the attention of readers!

#guest post #guest post service #find guest post #get guest post #best guest post #about guest post #google news guest post

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frogtanii · 3 years

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[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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mandu-17 · 2 years

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DREAMCATCHER reaction to their girlfriend switching to her native language when she's angry

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: hi!! can i request dreamcatcher reacting to their gf switching to her native language when she gets angry?

A/N:

Jiu

Eyes wide, Jiu had no idea what you were saying but it certainly didn't sound like something nice. Immediately she went to the living room in order to check on you and upon seeing your deep frown, she got even more confused. Carefully, she aproached you and asked if everything was okay, while her fingers fidgeted nervously. Honestly speaking, at first Jiu felt a little scared. You sounded very different when speaking in your native language, especially when you were this mad. Fortunately, her presence instantly made you a bit calmer and Jiu was reminded that you wouldn't harm a fly. Although, she'd definitely ask about the meaning of words you had spoken before.

"That was so unexpected, baby. You almost scared me."

Sua

Your girlfriend can always find something to laugh at. Usually, you join in and enjoy her weird sense of humor. But this time, you were far from laughing. After reading an email from work telling you to start over with the project you had just finished, various words in your native language left your mouth without you even realizing. Of course Sua only laughs at your sudden outburst. She found it so amusing that she almost fell from the armchair she was sitting on. Her loud laughter echoing through the room didn't help you feel any better, so you attacked her with your eyes narrowed. It was enough for Sua to shut up and understand that it was something serious.

"What happened, my dear beloved?"

Siyeon

Well, Siyeon being Siyeon... She can't really understand what's going on. All of the sudden you're speaking in another language and from the way your voice sounds like, she knows something is not right. You look very angry, when she finds you in the kitchen with hands resting against your hips. It was Saturday and you had been planning to cook a special dinner for a long time. Siyeon's not a great cook herself, to her everything you were making looked decent. That's when you tell her about the most important ingredient, which you had forgotten to buy and how all the stores nearby were already closed. Your girlfriend sighed with relief, you were always so serious when it came to food.

"Huh? Y/N, what's going on?"

Handong

Dongie was truly shocked. The two of you were hanging out and suddenly you sounded very angry with something. She learnt that the reason for you switching to your native language out of nowhere was your boss telling you to come to work on the next Friday, when you were supposed to have a day off. Handong and you even had already made plans to go for a picnic. It's not often that your schedules match. Nevertheless, your girlfriend understands both the situation and your behaviour. As a foreigner herself, she just knows that some words expressed in native language feel better. Handong embraced you with a smile, telling you that it's alright.

"Don't worry, we'll just go some other time."

Yoohyeon

Similar to Sua, Yoohyeon thinks it's very funny. She likes to tease you about it, but the weirdest thing is that your girlfriend sometimes finds this trait of yours a little cute. Seeing you so annoyed only makes her want to kiss and comfort you. She really loves you and doesn't like it when you're not happy or at least relaxed. Also, as a person who likes learning new languages, she'll definitely want to learn words you usually use when mad. With puppy eyes, Yoohyeon asks you to be her teacher. You only shake your head with a small smile at her antics. But you do end up showing her a few curse words and correcting her pronouncation.

"I like this one the most!"

Dami

Yubin totally didn't expect that. It was a calm evening at your place - she was enjoying a book, you went to wash up when suddenly she heard you using your native language in the bathroom. Confused, with a frown she followed you. The scenery she was met with caused her to almost laugh, before she noticed how angry you looked like. You were about to take a shower and indeed you were standing there with a handshower. The only problem was that somehow it broke and was now in two pieces. After that situation, Yubin decided to just let you curse in native language since she could really see it helping you. And if it felt good for you, that was all she needed to know.

"Baby, calm down. It's just a handshower. Always could be worse."

Gahyeon

Very surprised to hear such things. Even though, she has no idea what you're saying, her eyes are wide and Gahyeon only tries to think of things that could make you behave like that. Just like Siyeon, she had no idea what was happening. Few minutes later your girlfriend confronted you about it. She really was curious about what happened and how she could be any help. Whenever she saw you so down, her heart broke. In hopes to make you feel better, she holds your hand, sends you a bunch of small smiles. Gahyeon would do anything to ease your nerves. She also understands that when angry, you prefer to use your native language.

"I really had no idea what was happening, it felt so scary."

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jingerhead · 2 years

Note

Would love to see Andreil #5 for the specific prompt thingy, I can sense it would be unhinged

Pls this one is so unhinged I'm dying what do I even do for this one (TW: brief mentions of torture)

5 - verified purchase reviewer on multipack of toy horses that only says THE RED ONES TASTE THE BEST and customer service agent going hello???? enemies to lovers nightmare

Andrew had been staring at his computer screen long enough for his eyes to start watering. He wasn't sure what to do with what he was looking at, despite knowing he had to reach out to the user that had left an...unsettling review on a multipack of small toy horses. Children's toys. Some angry mother was going to call customer support with a strong complaint about said review if he didn't get rid of it.

Alex Whocares left the following review:

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ (five stars)

THE RED ONES TASTE THE BEST

It was probably someone playing a prank, but Andrew had to respond to it anyway, because apparently this was his job. He finally managed to get his body to move, looking up this 'Alex Whocares' in their customer database and finding the email he'd signed up with. He then wrote an email and sent it quickly, finally looking away from the review.

________

Mr. Whocares,

On behalf of our company, we would like to thank you for your five star review on the multipack of rainbow toy horses, we are glad you enjoyed our product! However, we noticed in your review you mentioned consuming our product, and we'd like to remind you that our children's toys products are not meant for consumption. On the package, it specifically states that the multipack of rainbow toy horses is only meant for children ages three and up. We advise you to keep our products away from anyone who might consume them and to seek medical attention immediately if they are consumed.

Regards,

A. Minyard

Customer Service

_________

With that email sent, Andrew promptly decided to take a break, locking his computer and heading to the break room to take some of the free cookies and make a new cup of coffee. When he finished and sat back down at his computer he went back to work.

About an hour later, he got an email.

________

A. Minyard,

On behalf of myself, I'd like to apologize and explain my reasons for the review I left. I'm not sorry for leaving the review I did, I stand by it, but I'm sorry for worrying you so much you personally reached out to make sure I seek medical attention after eating the rainbow horses.

Recently I was kidnapped by my serial killer father and while I was in the car his stupid little henchmen and woman tortured me with the cigarette lighter. At one point she dropped it and it landed on the seat and would've burned my thigh if it wasn't for the glorious multipack of rainbow horses I'd stuffed in my pocket.

(I'd bought them for my friend's baby shower 'cause I figured a baby would enjoy playing with them but I now see that would've been a mistake, no baby is born three years old! How silly of me!)

That amazing multipack of rainbow horses saved me a little more pain than I was already in and by the time we arrived at my father's house the plastic the little horses are made of had melted a bit. I was stuffed into the basement where I'd watched him kill a man once and was locked down there for days. Thankfully there was a sink down there, so I had water, but I was hungry and there wasn't any food.

Until I remembered the multipack of rainbow horses, of course!

I left them near the furnace and let the plastic soften enough so that I could eat them. The red ones indeed tasted the best out of them all. I didn't feel so good after eating them though which is probably why you guys have that label on the toys in the first place. Thankfully, the FBI showed up and got me to the hospital and they pumped my stomach.

I do not recommend that experience.

I just got back home and I'm still recovering but I'm so glad that you saw my unhinged review I left while I was high on pain meds and thought to reach out to me. That's just so thoughtful of you, thank you so much. I'm doing a lot better now, thanks for asking.

Also my name isn't Alex anymore, sorry for the confusion.

Neil Abram Josten

P.S. You really like the word 'consumed' huh?

__________

Andrew promptly locked his computer again and went to get another coffee. He'd need it to reply to that email.

#aftg #aftg fanfic #tfc #tfc fanfic #all for the game #all for the game fanfic #the foxhole court #andreil #andreil fanfic #andriel #andriel fanfic #jinger's works #jinger answers

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scuttling · 3 years

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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americasass81 · 2 years

Text

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Non-Consensual Sex, Dubious Consensual Sex, Kidnapping, M & F Penetrative Sex, Oral (Both M & F receiving), Teabagging, Mild Language, Fingering, Ball Insertion, Mild Drugging, Mild Stalking, Mild language, Use of Pet Names. Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason. Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Pairings:- dark/soft CEO Steve Rogers x Female Reader.

Author’s Note 1: This is my submission for @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @navybrat817-shares Chris Evans Hoeliday Challenge! As seen from the dialogue prompt (Bold text), I pretty much let it take me where it wanted. Hope anyone who reads this enjoys 💖

Challenge parameters:- CEO Steve Rogers (Character), Sitting by the fire (Location), “Wanna deck my balls” (Dialogue), CEO Johnny Storm (Additional Ingredient)

Author’s Note 2:- As always, all images have been found through google search.

Synopsis:- Will skipping your firm’s Christmas Party ruin your life or be just the thing that sets you on the path to the life you secretly wanted.

Total Word Count:- 7,567

The floor vibrated beneath your feet and while you would have loved to have been at the firm's Christmas party, you couldn't pass up the opportunity afforded to you with having the offices all to yourself. Sure it had been two weeks of hard graft, on top of your usual workload, to get the entertainment room decked out, but sacrificing watching your co-workers throwing themselves at each other in favour of finishing the last of the orders and emails the CEOs dumped in your inbox, meant you got three more days off. And damn if you didn't need them. Like everyone and everywhere else, the past two years had been hell, but hope was in sight. A new year was just around the corner and with it the promise of new employees to lighten your load.

Rising from the chair to stretch all the aches out of your tired limbs, you then headed towards your office door for a quick walk to get the blood flowing once again to your cramped legs. Stepping out into the deserted hall while eying the double doors on your left, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. Looking to the right however in time to see the elevator door open, it was with the appearance of a waitress, Alexandra you think her name was, that made you realize you were probably just being paranoid.

Walking towards you, tray in hand, she stopped before your waiting form and reached out to hand you the glass sitting delicately upon it. "Bossman asked me to bring this up to you. Also told me to remind you there was a party taking place," she said as she waited for you to accept your drink. Smiling at her while figuring one drink couldn't hurt, you took the glass, thanked her and headed back into your office. Sitting down at your desk once more, you reminded yourself to thank Mr. Storm for thinking of you the next time you saw him. Though she hadn't told you who had sent the drink specifically, you figured between the two partners, Johnny had to be the bossman she referred to.

A very hands-on and present boss, the other CEO seemed the polar opposite and perhaps that was why the company usually ran so well. Rarely seen mingling with the employees, Mr. Rogers although somewhat distant compared to his partner, was perhaps the only person other than yourself who worked so hard and you figured this dedication was in part to blame for his standoffish demeanor. If only you knew the truth. This time hearing the ding of the elevator to signify Alexandra's departure, you swiveled in your chair to face the nighttime city view before bringing the glass to your lips.

Taking a sip of the sparkling liquid, you were happy you had followed your gut and ordered the good stuff before titling the glass once more and emptying half the contents in one go. Allowing the liquid down your throat to settle in your stomach, you turned back from the window as the sound of footsteps reached your ears. Finishing off your drink and rising to your feet, you walked towards the door to see who was now coming to disrupt your peace when a sudden wave of dizziness hit you. Reaching out to grab hold of something before you fell, you never reached the ground however as darkness claimed you at the exact moment two strong arms halted your descent. Too far out of it to know what the future held, you would in the days ahead, look back on this moment and slap yourself for accepting a drink you hadn't seen poured with your own two eyes.

Gazing down on your sleeping form, he sighed deeply as he held you close while the steady rhythm of your chest indicated all was well with you. At least as well as it could be. Hoping against hope that you would allow the night that was in it to lower your defences, it did bother him slightly that you could be this careless. Still, you were highly overworked and that he figured most definitely played a part in your undoing. So scooping you up gently and heading towards his office wing, he entered the private elevator and promised himself that from now on all you would know was love, relaxation and a lifetime of pampering.

⛄⛄⛄⛄⛄⛄⛄

Coming out of the darkness slower than you had entered it, your mind tried to force its way through the fog to figure out what the hell was going on. Piecing things together, a waitress had delivered a drink, you had finished it and then . . . oblivion. No wait, there was something else. Something . . .? Sifting through the catalog of recent memories, you finally remembered what had driven you from your chair. Footsteps? Someone else had been there? Forcing your eyes open and sitting up sharply, the horror grew around you as you took in your new location. Waking up in the biggest, softest bed you could ever remember, the room around you only confirmed that which your keen mind had already suspected . . . you had been drugged and moved from the safety of the world you knew. What you still didn't know however was why, where to and by whom, but you figured none of it could be good.

Rising slowly from the bed, you were delighted to see your footing hold steady, so at least there was one thing in your favor. Pity the same couldn't be said of everything else. Checking out the room around you as you walked over to draw back the curtains, a noticeable impression and ruffling on the opposite side of the bed told you that it had been recently used. Cringing at the thought of some mysterious body laying next to you in a moment of pure vulnerability, it was only made worse in the cold light of day. As the rare winter sunlight streamed through the now visible window and bathed you in an unobstructed view of what you hoped was still your city, the pyjamas adorning your frame told you that at some point your mystery abductor had cocooned your body in something you suspected to be the finest silk money could buy. Running your hands lazily over the soft material as your mind tried to figure out who was capable of such a thing, your common sense finally kicked in and brought your focus back to the reality of your current predicament.

Tearing your gaze away from the vista before you, your first order of business was to find some practical attire that would help get you out of this place. Searching the room and finding nothing suitable however, you then made your way to the main door to see what lay ahead. Leaving behind the comfortable lush carpet of the bedroom, you were greeted by a wooden balcony that overlooked a high ceiling, open plan ground floor. Stalling momentarily here too to take in the breathtaking view before you, a noise below caught your attention and drew your eyes to the steps off to your left.

Waiting a breath to see if anyone appeared, you then moved quietly before reaching out towards the first door you came across. Opening it gently so as not to draw attention to yourself, it revealed a fabulous office that would rival that in any highly successful company. Peering once more towards the steps, but no longer hearing anything, your curiosity got the better of you as you slowly stepped inside. Taking note of the stunning fireplace off to your right and the amazing double wood doors leading onto the outside balcony, it was the desk in the center that your legs led you towards.

Walking around to the place of power, where the owner of this mysterious apartment would sit and pour over countless documents, your heart all but stopped as the framed picture on the desk caught your eye. Taken some years back at the company's summer retreat, your smiling face staring back at you sent a shiver down your spine . . . you never remembered this vulnerable moment being captured. Shaking off the uneasiness of someone having this unknown obsession with you, your hands began a thorough search to try and identify your captor. They didn't have to search long however.

Walking up the steps some time later, the only other inhabitant placed a breakfast tray on the first side table he came across as the open door indicated his prize had found her way into his office. Walking forward slowly to stand in the doorway, his breath hitched as it always did when he saw and thought of you. Watching you flip through the various folders occupying his desk, visions of your delicate body moaning under him as you lay atop it assaulted his mind and tightened his leggings. Noticing however that your fingers were about to close on a particularly sensitive file, he came to his senses quickly enough to prevent the inevitable discovery.

"Hey there sweetheart, I see you're awake. You maybe wanna grab some breakfast before we talk?" he asked as his voice caused you to halt your exploration. Taking a deep steadying breath before your body straightened, it did nothing to slow your heart rate at the sight of your captor. Standing there before you, blocking your only escape, was the boss you never thought would be capable of something like this. Sure Steve Rogers was reserved compared to the other CEO Johnny Storm, but drugging? Kidnapping? Even you didn't think the man you secretly admired possessed such a dark side.

Moving the office chair out of your way and edging towards the fireplace, your terror increased as he closed the door and advanced lazily into the room. Gingerly taking one step further from the desk for every one he took towards your previous location, he continued speaking as his hands reached out to tidy up the files you had just disturbed. "Please don't do that sweetheart, you're quite safe here." he said before turning around to face you. Sitting back against the desk as he crossed his legs, his blue eyes never left yours as your movements finally stopped.

Standing before the fireplace as your eyes flicked between him and the door, you were shocked to find your body betray you as he held out his hand and beckoned you towards him. Smiling triumphantly to himself as eight years of being his top employee brought you to him, the second you got within reach his arms encircled your waist before locking behind your back. Gasping as he then opened his legs to bring you closer, your hands came to rest against his chest as you tried to maintain some distance between you. His strength however proved too much, so your voice instead took over as his lips touched yours.

"Mr. Rogers, stop. Let me go," you protested as your fists beat furiously against his chest. Pulling back slightly to be greeted by your angry expression, his chuckle only infuriated you further when he asked you what was wrong. Lecturing him at length as to the litany of faults this fucked up situation found you in as well as his obvious involvement, his speed shocked you as he stood up and bent you over the desk before you knew what was happening.

"Damn sweetheart always knew you were feisty," he said as his hands held you in place though you still struggled against him. "Want to know what else you are?" he asked as your body stilled when he folded himself over you. "You're smart, beautiful," he whispered, bringing his lips to your ear as he continued, "and seriously overworked. But I promise all that's about to change. Just agree to hear me out." he finished and as you felt his hips move against your ass, the silk rubbing on your intimate area felt truly amazing. But you were not about to give in as your struggles started once more.

Kicking your legs apart as he now began grinding against you in earnest, you bit your lip to stifle a moan however as he spoke again. "Have you any idea how many nights at the office I dreamed about having you in this position? Do you feel what you do to me sweetheart?" he asked as his lips now found a home against your neck and his warm breath tickled your skin while a wandering hand moved lower.

Making its way inside your shorts, any hope you had of answering however died as his fingers came in contact with your heat. "Say you want this," he tried again only for you to shake your head vigorously. "No sweetheart? Should we see what your body has to say about that?" he asked and this time you whimpered audibly as his fingers breached your sex and confirmed what he suspected. Pumping them in and out of you as his lips now nipped and licked at your neck, his third attempt bore fruit as this time you finally succumbed to his skills and agreed to anything he wanted. Pulling back and helping you up, he then placed his arm around your waist before leading you from the room.

Picking back up the tray as he walked you past it, both of you moved down the stairs as your eyes began to take in the rest of the apartment. "I know it's a bit short on holiday cheer at the moment," he acknowledged as he watched you glancing around the place while he directed both of you to the kitchen, "but with what you accomplished down at the office, I know together we will have an amazing Christmas," he continued as he placed the tray on the table before pulling out a chair for you.

Watching Steve as he busied himself making some fresh breakfast, your mind took you back upstairs to what had just transpired in his office. Feeling the ghost of his hands once more, as well as the evidence of what you did to each other, you found yourself falling once more into your fantasies of a life as Mrs. Steve Rogers. Coming back to reality however, as said CEO asked if you wanted coffee with your eggs and toast, you looked down at the silk pyjamas you still wore before your eyes focused on the front door. Knowing it was stupid, risky and probably doomed to failure, you knew you at least had to try, and so glancing behind to ask for coffee, you used the distraction to rise from the chair and swiftly ran towards the door.

Making it only halfway between where you started and your destination however, a scream tore from your lungs as your boss's arms encircled you and he landed on his back with you atop him. Kicking out frantically as he held you tight and laughed beneath you, all movement stopped as his lips ghosted by your ear and his words began to flow. "Take it easy sweetheart, I'm not gonna hurt you. Now let's stick to the plan, eat breakfast and then we can talk. Okay?" he suggested as he slackened his grip somewhat. Finding yourself able to breathe easier, you dropped your head onto his chest as you resigned yourself to the fact that he would probably just keep you like this until you submitted. Accepting defeat as your stomach also chose that second to betray your hunger, he laughed again as he released you, rose from the floor and lifted you gently to your feet.

"Okay sweetheart in the spirit of saving us some time, let me clear a few things up. I like you, we both know you like me and all the doors are currently locked," he said as he sat you back down at the table once more before grabbing the requested coffee. Placing it before you, he then went back to grab the plates and, setting one before you, took his spot between you and the door. Looking at the food before you as the man across from you raised an eyebrow at you, you thanked him grudgingly before helping yourself to the mouth watering meal.

Finishing it quickly and taking the plate to the sink you then joined Steve back at the table to begin getting some answers. Promising to answer any and all questions, you decided to start with the obvious. "I guess my first question is where are we? I mean, that view looks like the city, but that's not possible. Right?" you questioned, looking over at his amused expression.

"I would hope it is possible sweetheart," he replied as he rose from his seat, held out his hand and waited for you to take it. Then leading you back into the living area and out onto the balcony, he continued to explain, "this is the top of the building. Below us are the offices, while Johnny and I got these apartments added when we purchased the place." he said, placing his arms around your waist. Explaining further that they had their uses when work ran late and that Johnny was directly below, any hope you had of alerting the other partner swiftly evaporated when Steve led you back inside and divulged the other difference between the two floors . . . his apartment was completely soundproof.

Now sitting on the couch as this powerful man sat beside you, you stared at the doors as your brain tried to process this new information while going through the questions that still required a response. Of course you didn't expect him to actually admit to his criminal behavior or his plans, but as he revealed that he had spent the last eight years falling in love with you, you found yourself feeling more and more trapped. No longer able to grasp onto any rational thought, he at least had enough sense to move things along.

Reaching for a folder you only now noticed laying on the coffee table, Steve handed you a pen and told you that a few documents still needed your signature from the previous night. Remembering now how this whole mess had started, you took the pen, signed away and sighed with a new found exhaustion as Steve put everything away. Then kissing your forehead, he informed you that he would just drop them back to the office while you headed for a relaxing shower. Asking where the bathroom was as he headed for the door, you hoped that some time alone would instead allow you to find a way out of his slimy clutches.

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Waiting what you figured was enough time, you gave one last quick look at your silk attire before deciding that being gone from here trumped your captor's appalling choice in clothing. Heading for the door and searching for the latch, you cursed profusely when you realized that Steve was right. Like the private elevators in the CEO's office wing, the doors here too were biometrically controlled thus preventing any unwanted entry or exit. Sighing deeply as you accepted that you were well and truly trapped, you figured you might as well shower and see if you could find something more acceptable to wear.

Opening the door and marveling at the luxurious bathroom before you, a part of you grudgingly admitted that living here would definitely be worth getting kidnapped, except for well . . . the whole kidnapping part. Turning on the shower and stripping out of the pyjamas while it reached the desired temperature, your ire rose again as you opened the cabinet and discovered all your favorite products lined up next to Steve's. Grumbling and muttering about crazy bosses and stupid decisions, you eventually opened the shower door and basking in the warm steam rising within, stepped under the welcoming spray as it eased the tension in your muscles and helped wash away your cares.

Stepping out of the shower twenty minutes later feeling more like yourself since this whole ordeal started, this euphoria was soon obliterated once you headed to the bedroom to find something suitable to wear. Opening the main door to find all the internal ones you ignored earlier also locked, the handwritten note on the bed told you that the red dress and candy cane knee high stockings were the only choice of clothing available.

Picking it up and scoffing in disgust, you quickly slipped it on before rising from the bed and standing before the full length mirror. "Rogers," you screamed as you glared at your reflection before heading back into the main apartment to find the man in question waiting in the living room, "this thing is not a dress," you challenged, drawing his attention to the fabric which barely covered anything.

Roaming his eyes over your scantily dressed form, he didn't even try to hide his lust as his tongue flicked over his lips before speaking. "I think you look very . . . festive, sweetheart," he smirked and you could feel your anger growing with every trip his eyes made up and down your body.

"Festive? FESTIVE?" you shot back, "I have lingerie that covers more than this crap." you shot back and the look he sent your way this time was enough to temporarily steal your voice.

"Good to know sweetheart," he said as he now moved further into the apartment and allowed you a glimpse of the box in his arms as he continued, "looks like those will be the next thing to go."

"Next thing to go," you shakily repeated as your eyes remained glued on the box though your stocking clad feet moved you towards the man who was currently in the process of rearranging your life. "Mr. Rogers, what's in the box?" you asked, though your head told you you already knew the answer.

"That would be the contents of your office sweetheart," he said as he placed the box on the coffee table and headed off into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before returning to your confused expression. "You know, since you quit."

"Quit? Are you out of your mind?" you shouted, looking between him and the box that held the last eight years of your life. "Between dealing with you and showering, when exactly did I find the time to quit?" you continued while trying to grasp any memory of the event in question as your fingers now trailed over the items that marked a significant part of your life.

"You don't watch what you drink," he pointed out as he walked casually towards you. "You don't read what you sign," he added as he now stepped closer and trapped you between himself and the couch. "Honestly, it's lucky I took charge of this matter before your carelessness cost the company," he finished as your body sank into the structure behind you. Realizing now that one of the documents he had you sign earlier must have been your resignation letter, you lay back against the cushions as the reality of what he had done hit you.

Reminding you that you were overworked, you tried to counter with the argument that the employees starting in the new year would more than rectify that issue, but Steve was having none of it. Explaining in detail that from this moment on you would live a life of luxury first as his girlfriend and hopefully, one day soon as his wife, he allowed this information to sink in as he walked towards the fireplace and began setting it up. Glaring daggers at him as you watched the logs spark to life, the warmth failed to reach you as he then traveled to the storage cabinet by the door and began unloading boxes.

Finding the noise arousing your curiosity, you turned around and peaked over the top of the couch to see all manner of festive decorations. With eyes twinkling at all the ideas popping into your head, you quickly returned to your previous position as Steve closed the cabinet and walked back over to join you. Smirking to himself as he took in the subtle differences in you, he handed you the box he was holding and asked if you would at least consider making a start. Looking up at him, you bit your lip and contemplated your answer until the sly fox informed you he wanted to head to the kitchen to prepare some eggnog.

Remembering in time that tampered drinks are what landed you here in the first place, you instead offered to help with that so you could both decorate together. Smiling while dropping the box as if you had just agreed to marry him, he took your hand and led you to the kitchen as you wondered what type of beast you had just awoken. Surprising both yourself and Steve at how easily you found everything, half an hour later, dodging gropes, kisses and sexual innuendos, you finally figured decorating the living room would allow you more space to shove between you and your eager boss.

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Leaving the kitchen behind with two glasses and a bottle of wine in hand, you headed back to the coffee table and the box he handed you previously. Pouring a drink and handing it to Steve, you then filled your own glass before opening up the box. Gazing down onto a beautiful winter skating rink ornament, you closed your fingers delicately around it as you carefully lifted it out. Marveling at the tiny figures and intricate detail, you glanced around the apartment and settled on the table on the balcony before addressing Steve. "Is it alright to put this on the table up there?" you asked, directing him to where your eyes had wandered.

Smiling over at you as his eyes followed yours, you headed off up the steps and positioned it carefully before inquiring what he found so amusing. Dropping the lights he was currently untangling to walk over to your current location, Steve plugged in the attached lead, flicked the switch and placed his arms around you as the figures below you came to life. Watching the little people move in various patterns around the imagined frozen lake, you looked back at Steve as he finally answered your question. "This is actually where it always sits. That's what made me smile. Your instincts and imagination so easily mirror my own."

Groaning at his assessment as both of you continued to watch the scene below you, you waited a few seconds longer before squirming out of his hold and heading back to the boxes. Hearing him sigh as he followed you down the steps, you took a sip of your wine before opening up another box. Closing it swiftly when you were greeted with bunches of mistletoe, you checked to see what Steve was doing and noticing his attention back on the ball of lights, you quickly hid the box out of sight. Opening up the next one to find a reindeer and sleigh set sitting atop a frosted garland, you knew by the attached hooks that this was made to sit on the mantle.

Heading off over to the fireplace, you lined it up as best you could before working to secure it properly. Making sure the corners matched and the sleigh sat directly in the middle, you watched Steve attach the lighted garlands over the doors before returning to the box to see what other treasures lay within. Finding two red candles in intricately cut glass holders, you placed each on either end before picking up the green, gold and blue baubles that you suspected occupied the remaining space.

Helping yourself to some more wine and once again checking out what your boss was doing, you silently wondered at the contrast between the focused and determined CEO you knew and the carefree, holiday loving human you currently seemed to be getting a glimpse of. Ignoring for a moment why you were privy to this side of him, Steve's words reaching your ears however easily removed the sparkle of the season.

"Hey sweetheart, you ever dream about me taking you in the office, hmm? Perhaps fucking that warm pussy while I'm on the phone with a client?" he asked as he noticed you watching him and your resulting silence spoke louder than any protest you thought to muster. "Oh you did," he smirked triumphantly as you turned back towards the fire and continued with the decorating as he spoke again, "and here I thought you were a conscientious employee."

"I am a conscientious employee," you replied harshly, picking up a Christmas bauble and throwing it across the apartment with the intention of hitting your boss squarely in his pompous head. His reflexes proved more than a match for you however as he caught it easily and walked across the room to hand it back to you. Taking it from him and placing it back in the box, butterflies fluttered in your stomach as his fingers ghosted up your thigh. But it was nothing compared to the feelings that settled within you moments later when Steve took your hand as the sound of Christmas tunes filled the apartment.

Taking you in his arms, as his lips met yours and his skillful body led you gracefully around the floor, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper under his spell. Twirling, swaying and dipping you carefully with an experience you were sure had been honed at countless business retreats, his eyes lit up the longer you gave up control to him. Just like him it seemed for you, Christmas had always been a weakness and this man was drowning you in it so much that if his next activity was baking and decorating cookies, you knew you would ultimately surrender.

Releasing you then as the song ended and a new one began, he picked up the now empty wine bottle and kissing your cheek, headed off to the kitchen for a refill as you tried to compose yourself. Shaking your head to remove the feeling he was stoking within you, your eyes falling on an angel had delivered you a perfect distraction. Looking around the apartment at all the work that had already been done, you called out to Steve with the question burning on your lips. "Hey Steve, where's the tree?" you asked, holding up the angel as he poked his head out of the kitchen.

"Don't have one." he replied before you interrupted with your next question.

"But then where does this go?" you asked in return.

"I had forgotten about that," he said as he pulled the cork out of the bottle in his hand and poured out a small drop to make sure all was well before turning his attention back to you. "Of course, if you're a good girl, maybe Santa will bring you one next year," he said with a wink as you dropped the decoration when he returned the corkscrew to the kitchen and topped up your glasses once again.

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Hearing him now humming along to the tune of some old time Christmas song, you opened another box to find garlands and lights that clearly belonged on the railing along the balcony. Heading up there as Steve returned and discreetly recovered the box containing the mistletoe, you began lining it up as he dotted the pesky decoration in all the usual prime locations. Then coming up behind you as you finished stringing the lights around the decorated garland to secure it to the bannister, Steve's breath tickled your skin as his teeth nibbled on your ear. "Hey sweetheart, now that we're done here, you wanna deck my balls?" he whispered as he pulled you back against him so you could feel exactly how in the mood he was.

Twisting your head to get a better view of the man behind you, you swiftly escaped his grasp as a determined look you had seen countless times in the boardroom clouded his features. "Jesus Rogers, tell me you're joking?" you questioned seriously as you tried to put some distance between you and the lust clearly building in his loins.

"Deck them, lick them, suck them, fuck them. I just want you to get intimately acquainted with them in every possible way," he said as he stalked towards you before carefully tackling you to the ground. Having strategically maneuvered you through the apartment to the massive rug in front of the fireplace, with his hand worming its way between your thighs and his eyes staring down at you with pure adoration, any resistance you thought about mustering suddenly died as a sound you never imagined making escaped your lips.

Grinning down at you like a child on Christmas morning, Steve continued to play with your folds as he nuzzled his slightly stubbled chin against your cheek. Biting your lip to keep any other sounds from betraying what he was doing to you, his skillful fingers finding their home against your clit soon made your efforts totally useless as you came undone for him for the first time. Breathing heavily as Steve licked his fingers clean of your release, your eyes widened in shock as he divested himself of his leggings and tossed them aside all while managing to hold you in place beneath him.

Now winking at you as his lips found yours and proceeded to leave you breathless once again, your fighting spirit returned with a vengeance when Steve moved up your body to straddle your shoulders as his package bloomed large before your eyes. "Don't be shy now sweetheart, time to get to work. They're never gonna go in easy if you don't get them ready," he jeered as his hands took hold of your head. Telling him to get fucked, he replied by informing you that's exactly what he had planned before squeezing your jaw and plugging your mouth with his semi-hard shaft the second you opened up.

Gagging from the girth, sensation and general shock of what was happening, Steve surprised you by gently working your mouth along his length until he felt your resistance fall away. At last allowing you the freedom to set a pace you were comfortable with, the girl he mentioned earlier fantasizing about him fucking her over his desk, finally made an appearance. Tapping his thighs enough for him to pull out, you took advantage of the respite to grab hold of an unexpected burst of strength, flip Steve off you and reverse the positions. Now with him flat on his back, you took his cock in your hand and moved it out of your way as your mouth descended towards his sac. Licking each one as his hands moved down to grab your head, you felt a sudden rush of power as this successful CEO began to fall apart for you.

"Oh fuck sweetheart, such a good girl for me. Knew you just needed an incentive," he spoke between breaths as you slowly began to work your mouth over each nut. Stretching open your lips before hollowing out your cheeks every time you sucked them in, a resounding pop echoed through the room whenever you set him free. Moaning out louder and louder with every repetition as your warm mouth alternated between each ball while your hand continued to pump his cock, he suddenly yelped and exploded all over your fist when you removed your mouth and nipped at his balls with just enough force to trigger his release.

Pulling back and licking his cum off your hand, you now couldn't hide your own grin as Steve's blissed out expression and heaving chest caught your attention and gave you a weird feeling of pride. Giving both of you enough time to come back down to earth, you then leaned forward and running your fingers through his hair, your warm, wet lips found his soft ones as they glided smoothly over each other. "So asswipe, was that what you had in mind?" you asked as both of you pulled apart before running your thumb along his lower lip.

Sliding it side to side as his hands made their way to your hips, it was now your turn to moan as his mouth sucked hungrily on your thumb before releasing you. "Oh sweetheart, that was so much better than my dreams, but we still have some more steps to go," he reminded you as he now took hold of your so called dress and ripped it clean off your body. Delighting in the fact that all you wore now were the knee high candy cane stockings, Steve then flipped you onto your back again before removing his own top and exposing the glorious chest you knew lurked beneath.

Admiring the stunning view above you as Steve's hand roamed over your tits and thighs, your head told you to enjoy this little tryst while your heart now hoped it would never end. Finally sensing the subtle shift in your emotions, Steve stalled his movements and rested his head against your forehead as a hand came up to caress your cheek. "Penny for your thoughts sweetheart," he said before repeatedly kissing your face until your thinking gave way to incessant laughter. Then allowing you sufficient time to regain your composure, he helped wipe the tears from your eyes before you formed a reply.

"I guess I'm just nervous," you answered as you looked up at him before you continued, "I never done this before."

"Never done what before sweetheart? Sex?" he asked with a somewhat surprised expression settling on his features.

"Fucked my boss. Teabagged a guy," you responded while trying to gauge his reaction to what you were about to say. "I've had sex before but never like this," you shakily admitted. "It's always been vanilla. What little there was of it," you finished, turning your head away from him.

"Oh sweetheart," he whispered, turning you back to face him, "the things I plan to introduce you to. We're gonna have a blast," he promised as his lips repeatedly smacked against yours until both of you needed to breathe. Then smiling down on you with more love than any of your previous boyfriends had ever displayed, he tried to finally put your mind at rest. "Also don't forget, when it comes to fucking your boss . . . we haven't really done the deed yet and you already resigned. Remember?"

Acknowledging now that one niggling little fact, you suddenly found it didn't bother you the way it had earlier. Finally looking now at Steve as a man rather than a boss, you found the same shift Steve detected as your hand ran the length of his chest before dragging him back down on you to whisper in his ear. "Well then baby, show me what you got in mind," and then you watched him shiver as your tongue snaked out and glided around his ear.

Laughing out at your new found confidence, Steve winked at you as he produced a bottle of lube and popped the top before your astonished eyes. Then pouring a generous amount onto his hand before smearing some over your lips, he next brought his hand down to the cock still glistening with your saliva as he lubed up both his shaft and balls. Once happy with his work, he continued by bringing his hand to your pussy to add the excess lube to your already dripping folds. Licking your flavored lips as he lined up his shaft with your entrance, he eased himself into you a few times before stilling to allow you to adjust and get comfortable. Then when you nodded at him to continue, he shook your world as his hips began a steady rhythm of thrusting his cock into your slowly expanding slit.

Now moaning, groaning and writhing beneath him as he shoved you nearer and nearer towards your release, you really wanted to slap his handsome face as he smiled down on you before speaking. "Come on sweetheart, work with me now," he encouraged and as if your body had no will of its own, one hand moved down to play with your clit as your other pinched and pulled at your nipples. Working now in tandem as his hips sped up and his hands took over for yours, you eventually screamed his name to the walls around you as your legs locked his hips in place while your arousal gushed out around his cock.

Laughing gently as you came down from your high, it took you a moment to register that Steve had neither come nor left your core. Looking now at your bemused expression as he eased your legs from around his hips, your face turned even more confused at his next words. "Did you already forget what I have planned for you sweetheart?" he asked and no answer came to mind as he pulled out of your soaking snatch, leaving you temporarily empty. But temporarily was definitely the word.

Taking his hands and running them along your folds, he then brought them back to his balls and massaged them as you tried to figure out what he had planned. Then lifting his still hard erection, he placed his ball sac at your entrance and holding them tight, manipulated them into your hole before giving you time to adjust. Feeling the stretch that was both similar yet different to that caused by his impressive rod, your brain finally synched with him as his hand began to work over his length. "No Steve. No no no no no," you protested vigorously as your whole body became aware of what he was up to. "Do not do this," you pleaded as it now became his turn to laugh.

"Aw sweetheart, it's so cute that you think you have a choice," he quipped as his balls now jerked within you while his thumb reached out to circle your sensitive nub. "This is going to happen, so just relax, breathe and feel every part of me," he instructed as he brought his tip down to your entrance and ever so slowly worked his cock into your pussy alongside his balls.

"Oh. Ahh. Damn," you keened out at the sheer sensation of being so full as Steve marveled at the sight before him. Then holding himself in place while thrusting his hips against yours, you felt the breath pushed from your body with every flick of his hips. At last happy that the apartment was soundproof, your voice rose higher and melded with his as the sounds of your joining filled the room. "Oh fuck yeah Steve, keep going. Make me come baby," you cried out between breaths as his whole package worked you over in the most delicious way possible.

"Don't worry sweetheart," he stuttered, "I promised my girl she'd feel all of me and I aim to deliver," he huffed out as his other hand attacked your clit while his lips met yours. Seeking entry, his tongue now danced with yours and your mouths captured each other's moans as both of you finally came together in one of the most powerful orgasms either of you could ever remember having.

Remaining still within you as both of you tried to catch your breath, your world spun on its axis as Steve then carefully pulled his package from you with an audible pop and brought his mouth down to lap at your stretched and sensitive pussy, while you felt yourself riding the wave once again. Begging, pleading and crying with him to stop, you came undone one final time as stars burst behind your eyes and the last conscious sight you had was Steve's blond locks between your legs as his skillful mouth brought you a high you would not soon forget.

Waking again some time later, a glorious smell floating from the kitchen and the sounds of soothing Christmas tunes tickled your senses as two strong and loving arms held you protectively in their embrace. Running his hands along your arms as he crooned softly behind you, Steve rested his lips softly against your cheek as he spoke between kisses. "Hey sweetheart, you left me there for a bit. How are you feeling?" he asked as he wrapped a blanket tighter around your naked forms.

Looking around the apartment that had started the day being your prison, the warmth of the fire beside you and the man at your back, had somehow turned it into a home and this thought actually brought you comfort as you turned your head to face your would be captor. "I actually feel pretty good Steve," you answered truthfully as you did a quick assessment of your body, and while it was true that you did feel well used, you had to acknowledge that there were worse reasons to feel the way you felt. Delighted that there seemed to be no adverse effects from your coupling, as well as your more relaxed demeanor, Steve suggested both of you shower and eat, but discovering that dinner was still almost two hours from being ready, there by the fire as the holiday spirit sparkled all around you, the only thing you wanted was to feel safe and loved in the arms and on the cock of the man you knew would make your every Christmas wish come true now, forever and always.

#happyhoelidays2021

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bigilante · 3 years

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〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

#zendaya x reader #zendaya x you #zendaya imagine #zendaya fanfic #wlw fanfic #softfics #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader

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gucciwins · 3 years

Text

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around.

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear.

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth.

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said.

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass.

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning.

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked.

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch.

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said.

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said.

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said.

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye.

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

“I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car.

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said.

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said.

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it.

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours.

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it.

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.”

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said.

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said.

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin.

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes.

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly.

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved.

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

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