#since shes already been telling herself all that for months anyway.

[rosykims]

IVE NEVER GOT THIS HOWE DIALOGUE. THROWING UPPPPPPPPPPPP

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

[atinylittlepain]

Hello there! I was wondering if you would be down to do a Joel smut where he’s a bit insecure about his body (maybe he’s older than the reader? Scars?) but the reader wants to praise him anyway? (Praise kink? Idk how to write smut tbh)

hey! I love this idea, Joel deserves a little TLC for sure :)

All Yours - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel has been distancing himself from her, and she's worried he's found someone else. When she discovers the real reason he's been so cold, she shows him just how much she cares for him.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, angst, age gap, insecure!Joel :(( but then fluff yay

..............................

Joel Miller is acting strange, and it’s starting to freak her out. It had started out subtle, since they had settled in Jackson. They had never before had the luxury of sex that wasn’t fully clothed, frantic, one eye always checking for danger. But now, with a whole bed to themselves, Joel still refused to undress, instead overwhelming her with affection, his loose belt buckle and the buttons of his flannel shirts digging into her bare skin as he fucked her. She didn’t make anything of it at first, but after two months of it continuing, she was starting to get frustrated. 

Her frustration bloomed into worry when it began to escalate, Joel pulling away altogether. He started picking up odd hours for patrol shifts, coming home so late she’d barely feel him slipping into bed, long pulled under by sleep. And by the time she woke up in the morning, he’d already be gone. He was never around, she and Ellie had even started to grimly joke that the old man was always “away on business,” but really, her heart was starting to break the longer it went on. 

She is starting to resign herself to the reality that maybe Joel has gotten tired of her. After all, the only thing that had brought them together was the forced closeness of hauling Ellie across the country, and now that they’re settled in a town with plenty of pretty women – women closer to his own age, her mind cruelly adds – she can’t blame him for not wanting to be tied down. 

She feels listless in this limbo he keeps her in. He hasn’t really touched her in weeks, but he still hasn’t said anything. When he does come home and leaves a faint kiss on her forehead, she almost wishes he’d just put her out of her misery already, tell her that it’s over, that he’s letting her go, that there’s someone else. Almost. But the truth is, she loves him, probably too much for her own good. She’s not sure if she could ever let go, and it makes her angry as hell. 

Letting go starts to feel like a possibility during her next patrol shift. She has been partnered up with a young man named Mason. He’s funny and friendly, a warm smile with dimples that could’ve landed him on the front page of a magazine back before. And he seems to like her, lobbing fluffy compliments and jokes her way, brushing touches to her arms. 

When they get back to town that afternoon, he helps her dismount, firm hands on her hips that linger as she hops down. They share a small smile as Mason walks away, but hers quickly dissolves when she turns around and sees Joel fixing her with a look that she can’t quite place, his eyes squinting, lips pursed. Before she can move toward him, he’s already turning heel and sauntering off, another piece of her heart cracking at the sight.

…

She stays at the stables, helping out for the rest of the afternoon, her mind a haze as it replays Joel’s steely expression. She figures he won’t be home by the time she gets back to their place, and she tiredly trudges upstairs in need of a shower and another hard night of sleep. It’s such a shock to see him sitting on the edge of their bed that she actually lets out a yelp when she walks into their room, his head whipping up to look at her.

“Wha– what’re you doing home? Don’t you have a shift?” Joel huffs at her question, his chest puffing up a little as he furrows his brow at her.

“Why? You bringing Mason home?” It’s like a punch to her gut, and all she can do is let out a breathy laugh of disbelief.

“Oh no. You don’t get to do that, Joel.”

“Do what?”

“Be jealous – over nothing, I might add – not after you haven’t so much as looked at me in months.” He presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting away from hers, making her sigh.

“Joel– would you just talk to me, please? I feel like– like you don’t want me anymore.” His eyes flash to hers at that.

“You know that’s not true.” She huffs.

“Do I? It’s kinda hard to believe anything else. You barely talk to me anymore. And I can only hang around so long when it’s clear you’re no longer looking my way.”  He gets up and takes one stride to stand in front of her. His hands flex by his sides and she wills him to just reach out, but when he doesn’t, she lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Christ, you’re making it pretty obvious, Joel. You won’t even touch me. I just– I can’t–” He finally reaches out, his hands cupping her jaw, effectively silencing her. She curls her own hands around his wrists as he stares at her.

“That’s not what this is about. I’m not– I always want you. Don’t want anyone else.” She huffs, her heart still kicking up at his words.

“Then what, Joel? Just tell me what it is, please.” He sighs, his eyes flickering down to her lips for just a beat before he’s pulling away from her to sit back down on the edge of the bed. She follows suit, the outside of their thighs pressing firmly against each other where they sit. When he speaks again, his voice is much quieter, hoarser.

“I don’t want you to be stuck with me.” Her head whips to the side to look at him, eyes widened in total confusion.

“What? Why would you even say something like that? It’s ridiculous.” Joel keeps his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap, his voice a low murmur as he speaks.

“It ain’t ridiculous. It’s true. You could have anyone you want in this town, and I’m– well, I’m old, and not what I once was. You don’t deserve to be stuck with me just because we were on the road together. I won’t do that to you.” She can’t believe the words leaving his mouth, and lets out an incredulous scoff. She’s a bit harsh in the way she grasps his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

“Is that seriously what you think? That I’m just stuck with you because we traveled together?” He doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes, making her sigh at the wavering look on his face.

“Joel, I’m with you because I want to be with you. You should know better than most that I’m not one to stick around unless I have good reason to.” He huffs at that, shaking his head in her hold.

“You shouldn’t. Shouldn’t want to be with me. Should be with someone younger, someone better, someone–” She cuts him off with a quick kiss, leaving him with wide eyes and parted lips as she smirks at him.

“Has trying to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do ever worked out for you, Miller?” She sees his throat bob as he continues to stare at her and she can’t help but laugh. Relief floods through her system at the realization that Joel still wants her by his side, followed quickly by a weary adoration for this man who thinks so little of himself. She strokes her thumb along the scruff of his cheek and leans in for another kiss, letting this one deepen until it coaxes a low groan from his throat. She only pulls away when he’s good and breathless, resting her forehead against his.

“The next time you start having stupid ideas about this, about us, you come to me first, huh?” He nods lightly, chest heaving as her other hand splays over his heart.

“Alright– still think you’d be better off with someone else.” She quirks her brow at him, pulling him with her as she stands up. His hands come naturally to rest on her hips as she fixes him in place with a tilted grin. 

“Can I show you what I think about that? About me being better off with someone else?” Joel is quiet, just a hint of a nod, but his hands are quick to grasp her wrists when she starts to work at the buttons of his shirt. She furrows her brow at him and he sighs.

“It’s just– I’m nothing to look at, darlin. A whole lot of scars and– you don’t have to– s’what I’m saying.” She feels her heart drop at his words, the truth finally settling in that this really is how low Joel thinks of himself. She presses kisses into his knuckles where they’re holding onto her wrists.

“I want to. Please let me see you, Joel.” He huffs, muscles still tensed, but he lets go of her wrists to let her continue her work. She could hear a pin drop, it’s so quiet as she undoes the last few buttons, dragging her palms back up to shrug his shirt down his arms, leaving his chest bare before her for the first time. 

She stands still for a moment, her hands hovering over his skin, taking in the sight of him. There are scars littered over his skin, but there’s obvious strength woven with softness in the tan expanses of his torso, and it takes her breath away. He jolts slightly when she finally lays her palms over his chest. She grazes her fingers down his front before dipping back up as she starts to walk around him, hands dragging up over his shoulders to rest on the broad expanse of his back. 

“You’re perfect, Joel Miller. Could look at you all day.” She seals her words with a smear of kisses pressed between his shoulder blades, smiling at the shudder she feels run through him. He grumbles, craning his neck back to catch a glimpse of her.

“Bet you say that to all the boys, huh?” She laughs as she circles back around, leaving her palms splayed over his chest.

“Mm, nope. Just the one.” That earns her a flushed grin from him that she chases after with a hard kiss, their mouths opening to each other as she twines her arms around his neck, pressing in close to his chest. The warmth radiating from him makes her dizzy, a sensation that increases tenfold when he pulls back to coax her out of her own shirt, twining back together in a bare embrace.

She starts to shuffle them backwards until he topples back onto the bed with a small “oof,” taking her along with him as she straddles his thighs. He goes to roll them over, sitting up slightly and squeezing her hips, but she’s quick to press him back down to the bed with her palm in the middle of his chest.

“Uh-uh, Miller. I’m not done looking at you.” He grumbles, but it’s quickly turned into a sigh as she dips down to start leaving open-mouthed kisses across his chest, trailing lower and lower until she’s nosing along the waist of his jeans. Joel reaches out for her, firm palm coaxing her to look up at him.

“You don’t– don’t have to do that.” She huffs, grabbing his wrist and leaning back over him to pin his hand by his head. 

“I want to. If you’ll let me, that is.” He’s looking at her like she’s crazy, pupils blown to make the swimming brown of his eyes look even darker. He finally scrunches his eyes shut, pressing his head back and letting out a breathy curse before looking at her again.

“Jesus christ– you’re asking if I’ll let you? Gonna fucking kill me– can have whatever you want, darlin. S’all yours.” She grins at that, pressing a few light kisses to his lips as she murmurs to him.

“Just relax, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.” With that, she trails back down his torso, nails grazing along his sides until her fingers land on his belt buckle and get to work. He huffs a bit when she gets off the bed entirely to unlace his boots and tug them off his feet. She just shoots him a look as she works.

“Wanna see all of you, Joel. Don’t pout.” He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he watches her shrug his jeans and boxers all the way off his legs. She’s never gotten him like this before, completely bare in front of her, and clearly under her control. It makes her mind go hazy for a moment, and she steadies herself by running her palms up the muscle of his thighs, kneeling back between his legs. 

His flushed cock has smeared precum across the soft muscle of his belly, and he lets out a harsh sigh when she noses up the vein running along the underside, lips barely brushing the tip. He instinctively reaches for her, trying to thread his fingers through her hair, but she’s quick to catch him and pin his arms back to the bed, something he grunts at so petulantly that she can’t help but laugh.

“You’re teasing me, darlin.” She just smirks, laying a kiss to his pouted lips.

“Patience, Miller. I’m getting there. Just lay back and enjoy it, huh?” Before he can get a reply in, she’s dipping back down to lick a hot stripe up his cock, coaxing a low groan from him.

He’s big enough to make her jaw ache a little as she starts to take him into her mouth, but the sweet sighs and curses he’s letting out are enough encouragement to keep going. She alternates between bobbing down his length and laving her tongue over the tip, and from the way Joel is tugging his hands through his hair as he watches her with a crumpled brow, it seems to be the right combination.

“Fuck, darlin– gotta mouth on you, huh? Taking me so well– fucking christ.” She leans back slightly to spit into her palm, wrapping her hand around the base of him that she can’t quite reach with her mouth. She can’t take her eyes off him, the blooming flush spreading across his chest, the way the quick pink of his tongue keeps darting out to wet his lips, the muscles in his forearms jumping with the way he’s raking his fingers through his hair.

“So pretty like this, Joel. Never wanna stop looking at you.” He grumbles at that, covering his face with his forearm but she lifts up to tug his arm away, holding his chin to get him to look at her even as he huffs.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been called pretty before. That’s a new one.” 

“I mean it. So pretty for me. Just for me, right?” She can see the bob of his throat as he nods in her grip.

“Just for you, darlin. Only for you.” That’s all she wanted to hear, needed to hear, and she presses another chaste kiss to his lips before lowering back between his legs and taking him back into her mouth. 

She can feel his thighs flexing under her palms, a clear sign that he’s getting close coupled with the dissolving string of praises and curses leaving his lips. 

“Fuck– you gotta stop or I’m gonna come.” She barely pulls off him, her lips still brushing his swollen tip as she grins up at him.

“That’s kinda the point, Miller.” She takes him into her mouth as far as she can, gagging lightly when his tip hits the back of her throat. Joel lets out a warbly moan, his voice cracking on a curse as he presses his head back into the sheets. 

It’s not long before he’s tensing up hard, a broken chant of her name leaving his mouth as his warmth starts to pool in her mouth. She doesn’t pull away until the muscles in his thighs have relaxed, holding his hazy stare as she swallows his spend. Joel lets out another curse at the sight, chest still heaving. 

“Never gonna stop replaying that in my head, fuck.” She laughs at his breathy words, crawling over him to lay down in the crook of his arm, her cheek resting over his heart. She lays a kiss between his collar bones before craning her neck up to press her lips to his, pulling away with a sweet smack.

“Are you done acting like a fucking fool now?” He huffs at her smug words, but the crooked smile threatening to spread across his face tells her all she needs to know.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. Was just trying to give you an out.” She settles back into his chest with his arm wrapped around her, calloused palm brushing along her back.

“Well don’t. If anything, you’re stuck with me, Miller.” A deep laugh rumbles through his chest as he squeezes her a little closer.

“Don’t mind the sound of that, darlin.”

[spncvr]

waiting room | s. reid

summary: spencer can't seem to escape the girl in the waiting room

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of reid's addiction & tobias hankel, mentions of kidnapping and mass shootings (in, like, a joking way??) my terrible, terrible humour, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE LMAO, this is deffo terrible, pls tell me if i missed anything!!

a/n: ok idk if i wanna continue this and make it a series so lmk lol (also im on writers block so i literally can't come up with SHIT)

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

At least, that’s what he’d call himself. His colleague, Derek Morgan would most likely (and by most likely, he means, definitely already has) call him an overanalysing introvert. But in Spencer’s defense, there has never really been a good reason to go out and “live your life”. Consider this:

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

Leave the apartment for a short while? A stalker finds out where he lives, kidnaps him in his sleep, and, in a nightmarish turn, auctions off his organs to the bidder in the black market.

Besides, his life isn’t some John Green book. There were no life-affirming adventures or poetic moments of self-discovery awaiting him. Carpe diem? A fanciful notion for others, but for him, not so much. Sorry, Mr. Keating.

Yet life—or more accurately, bureau protocol— had its own plans. Ever since the Tobias Hankel incident, a visit to the psychologist wasn’t just a request but rather (unfortunately for him) an order. Which meant, he’d have to risk his entire life to get up and walk for ten whole minutes just to sit and wait, in this glaringly bright waiting room, when he could have stayed at home and read the new books he’d gotten from his team as a get-well gift.

Speaking of which, why the gifts? He was fine. Physically, at least. But really, when have you ever seen get-well-soon cards in an asylum? Well, alright, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic. A visit to the psychologist doesn’t mean he’ll be institutionalised—but then again, Spencer Reid was never one to wear rose-tinted glasses. 

This is his third time in the waiting room, and she’s always there. He isn’t sure as to why she is, because, well, unlike himself, she was very clearly an optimist—and at least, from the looks of it, she hasn’t been kidnapped and drugged in the past month. But she's sitting there again, in the exact same chair for the past three weeks, along with a beacon of smiles where joy usually fears to trend. Maybe, he isn't as good of a profiler as he’d like to think he is.

“Dr. Reid?” the call of his name rips him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the same kind woman he’s seen the past three weeks—not the one in the waiting room, no, he means his therapist.

Dr. Brown was easy to profile: She wore heels to make herself look taller, and she hated wearing glasses, apparent by how she would continuously place them atop her head instead of her nose. Her teeth were abnormally perfect, which meant, she’d had to wear braces when she was younger—which (from his humbling experience) means she wasn’t exactly the most popular at school. Perhaps, psychology felt appealing to her because she could help people like her. 

“How are you?” she asks, her pen clicking.

Usually, he’d offer her a meek shrug. The kind that could win awards for its commitment to non-commitment. Besides, he’s not one to talk about how he feels—there isn’t much to say, anyway. And let’s face it,  “How are you?” in the grand tapestry of human interaction is almost as genuine as a three-dollar bill. And, get this, the average person asks “How are you?” 6,739 times a year but only listens to the answer about half the time—well, okay, maybe those numbers might have been fabricated, but isn’t the sincerity behind the question also made up? But instead of telling her all this, he remembers what Hotch had told him, one, two, three weeks ago: that he ought to cooperate with Dr. Brown or the board won’t be happy. So, he kisses his teeth before he says:

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

PLS TELL ME IF I SHLD CONTIUE OR NOT LOLOLOL spam my inbox with ideas I BEG.

[msbigredmachine]

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

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Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

--------------

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Pregnant II

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Pernille's pregnancy

During the first month, you're about the size of a poppy seed.

Pernille's fine on her own during this period. She has a little bit of spotting and feels a bit more tired than usual but she's mainly okay. Since the announcement, her teammates have been more careful on the pitch with her.

Everyone knows that the risk of miscarrying is higher before the third month so they all take care not to knock into her as much or, at least, to not hit her head on.

Magda, it seems, is the only one completely stressed out of her mind. She sends regular texts to check in with Pernille. She calls every day (once in the morning and once in the evening).

If she didn't have commitments in England then Pernille's sure that Magda would have flown over daily.

By the second month, you're the size of a kidney bean.

The symptoms have gotten a little worse by now. The tiredness has been replaced by sore breasts and the spotting by morning sickness. It's still manageable and Pernille doesn't even think to tell Magda until she misses a morning call in favour of hunching over the toilet and spewing out her guts.

"Her heart's developing now," Magda's voice comes through the phone, echoing around the tiled walls of Pernille's bathroom," And her brain too. Do you think she'll be smart? I think she'll be smart."

"We don't know if it's a girl yet, Magda," Pernille says. She's still leaning against the toilet but Magda's voice is safe and soothing.

"I know it's a girl," Magda replies, an air of finality in her tone," A little Pernille."

"She's your egg. She'll be a little Magda."

Pernille can hear the smile in Magda's voice as she replies," I made you admit she's a girl."

At the end of month three, you're the same size as a lime.

The morning sickness is extremely bad now and Magda even flies out when she hears from Nilla that Pernille had thrown up on the side of the pitch one morning.

"This brings back memories," Magda quips as she holds Pernille's hair back.

"Of what?"

"Crazy parties in our youth."

"We're still young, Magda. Becoming parents doesn't automatically make us old," Pernille sits up and takes the washcloth from her partner.

"Yeah, but we're more mature now. No more crazy parties and throwing up."

"None recently," Pernille corrects. She smiles for a moment before hunching over the toilet bowl again.

Magda rubs her back. "I've taken a few weeks off," She says," You keep getting sick."

"Magda-"

"No, I've already made my decision. International break is soon anyway. Our next match isn't too difficult. They don't really need me."

Pernille can't find it in herself to argue about it much, with the way that she sags against the wall and stays within arm's length of the toilet.

Magda kisses her stomach. "You're making your Momma sick," She says," You've got to leave her alone. You're still growing in there."

At month four, you're around the size of an avocado.

The morning sickness has stopped completely now but the soreness in her breasts doesn't subside at all.

It's completely coincidental when, one evening as she's changing her shirt, Pernille catches the sight of herself in the mirror.

She's got a baby bump now.

Instantly, her hand goes to touch it, as if she could feel exactly where you are.

She takes a picture and sends it to Magda.

She can see that it's been read but Magda doesn't reply for hours until finally...

MAGDA ❤️ you look so beautiful that's my new lockscreen

It's month five. You're the same length as a banana.

She could have found out earlier but Pernille waits until Magda can make the trip to find out your gender.

"A girl." Magda is still convinced as they sit in the waiting room, her hand stroking over Pernille's knuckles. "I know she's a girl."

"We'll see."

Pernille feels a bit vindictive so has the doctor write your gender on a scrap of paper, folds it up and hands it to Frido (who has come to visit).

"Huh?" Frido says as she looks down at the scunched-up ball of paper.

"You're in charge of that," Pernille says," Magda doesn't see it, she doesn't take it before the gender reveal."

"You guys are planning a gender reveal?"

Pernille shakes her head. "No. You are."

By month six, you're as big as an ear of corn.

You move around a lot now and Pernille never forgets the look on Magda's face when, one evening, Pernille grasps her hand and places it over her swollen stomach.

You kick almost every day and Pernille rubs her stomach softly as Frido hands her and Magda a knife.

"I bought cake," Frido proclaims," Because this is a celebration and you can't go wrong with cake."

Someone (Pernille's not sure who) on the Wolfsburg team rolls it out.

"If it's blue, it's a boy. If it's pink, it's a girl," Frido explains even though it really didn't need explaining. She's taking her role as future moster very seriously and it's slightly amusing.

"It'll be pink," Magda says," I know it will."

Frido rolls her eyes. "Then cut it. But...just wait until the camera's on. Okay! Ready? Ready!"

Magda's hand is warm around Pernille's, who is holding the knife in her own. They make two cuts into the cake, one after the other, and then pull out the slice.

"A girl," Pernille says softly, smiling as her team celebrates around her. She looks up at Magda, whose eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

"A girl."

Month seven and the only thing different is now you're the size of a large aubergine.

Her doctor has said that you can hear now so she spends countless nights with a pair of headphones on her stomach, playing voice notes Magda has sent throughout the day for you.

It's amusing. They're mostly nonsense, Magda just talking about her day and all the things she looks forward to doing with you but it's incredibly sweet and Pernille ends up crying every time.

Month eight comes around and now you're the same size as a cabbage.

Pernille's back aches more than ever and you enjoy sitting on her bladder so she has to take a bathroom break more often.

The highlight of the month comes when Magda comes over and lifts her bump, allowing Pernille to sag against her and feel slightly weightless for a little bit.

At month nine, you're the same as a head of lettuce.

She and Magda have been arguing over names for months now. There's a list pinned to the fridge and each of them takes a lot of pride in crossing out the other's suggestions in healthy competition.

Your last name is still up for debate too, as is your middle (but, somehow, Frido's gotten in on that action and has been texting Pernille suggestions for weeks now).

Pernille's having trouble getting to sleep too and you get more active than before. Rather than kicking though, it's your little fists thumping against her stomach (something that, many years in the future, she will tell Zećira was you foreshadowing).

Her doctor told her it was normal but it's still a bit disconcerting to see the tiny imprints of your even tinier fingers poking from the inside out.

By month ten (and Pernille hates that she's been lied to and pregnancy does not, in fact, end in the ninth month), you're the same size as a pumpkin.

She feels ready to pop but restless at the same time.

Magda's meant to be flying out later today but Pernille is in desperate need of some fresh air so she pulls on some clothes and gets herself ready to head to the Wolfsburg grounds.

[ourautumn86]

rich stress

shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

synoposis; after a contract gone wrong, your wife needs you to feel better.

cw; minors dni!! shane being pissed off, rough sex(?), fingering (r receiving), oral sex (shane receiving), hair pulling, praising, praise kink, hickeys, no use of y/n, scissoring, tit and nipple play, make out sessions, multiple orgasms, implied shower sex…

ugh so imagine just you and shane getting married, and with time, finding your dream house in LA. she had her pockets filled with money, being known as not only the most wanted female stylist, but the own CEO of her brand. now, with millions of salons under her name and stars hitting her up everyday, she couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes when this one ticked all the boxes. anything for her baby.

it had a beautiful front garden yard with fountains and a private yet outdoors pool that had your knees going wild at the thought of the possibility of seeing shane naked on it late at night. swimming. smiling at you in that goddamn way to get you to get out of your clothes and join her too.

it had also an open kitchen and isle, in which you’d spend your sunday nights cooking with shane for your little inside-dates. and the most amazing salon for when you’d invite the others over.

it was so modern yet homey… and private. you liked that. the clear pannels that led to the pool and exterior letting the views of the city light the nights.

shane knew it was a winner when your finally saw the main bedroom. you liked big beds. for obvious reasons. and the bathroom, decorated in marble floors, had this amazing bathroom whirlpool with sights to the skyscrapers. you liked the idea of taking a bath with her after a tiring and stressful long day, and helping her let go of all the stress she underwent once she was completely undressed.

bette obviously bought the two of you lots of art pieces to decorate it with. she had such a beautiful taste. she also bought you some unique pieces of furniture that had you drooling all over yourself since of course shane insisted on screwing them up all by herself. those arms and fingers working so easily yet so hard to make the house you’d bought together your home… anyways, you thanked bette a lot for that.

and when everything was finally accommodated, you knew this was your home.

“you like it baby?” shane had asked, lips on your neck. she was still wearing her suit, ringed hand heavy on your sides.

you sighed against her. “i love it.”

“good to know i make my girl happy.” she’d smiled.

“the happiest.”

-

today her demeanor was completely changed. alice had called you up to tell you that the contract she so hard had been working on for the last 2 months had gone to waste. and that she was mad. you’d gulped. a shiver running down your spine. you knew what a mad shane meant, and your legs were already quivering.

the entrance door banged closed, and you continued with your work in the kitchen, knowing she’d be quick to find you. in less than thirty seconds, there she was, heavy and tense on the door.

“shane, baby…” you tried but she was shutting you up too quickly. her lips were harsh on yours, and you whined when one of her hands came up your chest to grab at one of your tits.

“don’t wanna talk about it.” she lowly muttered against your lips, and you nodded before surrounding her neck with your arms, kissing her once again. you knew what she needed right now.

she pushed you against the wall, free hand pushing inside your panties, since all you were wearing was one of her shirts and your underwear. she groaned when she noticed how wet you already were. too wet to be exacts.

“you have been thinking about this, huh? what? did alice called you to let you know?” you nodded, whimpering when her fingers met your clit. “of course she did. and you knew what would happen once i’d get home. you knew i was gonna fuck you, don’t you baby?” you moaned, one of her slim large fingers now inside your cunt. you blushed at the squelch of your walls opening for her. she scoffed when you nodded. “words.”

“yeah…”

she pushed another finger inside, and your thighs shook. “i’m so fucking mad.” she groaned. “good thing i have my doll to make me feel better, don’t i?” you whimpered. she sucked on your neck, leaving hickeys while she rocked her body against you with each harsh thrust of her fingers. she pulled from one of your thighs so you’d surround her hips, reaching deeper, hitting your g spot over and over again as she curled her fingers.

your back arched, and you cried out her name. she moaned as well when you pulled from her hair. her own hips thrusting against you. her tongue pushed inside your mouth, teeth clashing and lips bruising.

“i’m cumming…” you moaned, and she grunted, keeping the pace and the harshness, bringing you to your orgasm. your jaw fell slack, and she kissed your cheek and chest, her free hand cupping your tits and teasing your nipples. she didn’t stop fucking you with her fingers until you were squirming due to the overstimulation. you watched as she popped her cum soaked fingers inside her mouth, making you whine at the thought of her own slick coating your tongue. “let me help you…” you pleaded, one of your hands cupping her cunt over her pants. she grunted. “please. use me.”

you begged, and soon enough she was pushing you into your bedroom.

“you know what to do.” you nodded, your tongue dampening your lips as shane got rid of her pants while you kneeled in front of the bed. you stared up at her as she pushed her underwear down her thighs, a patch of black hair decorating her mound. she then proceeded to sat down and spread her legs, giving you a perfect view of her glistening pussy and folds. you bit down on your lip, a soft moan leaving your throat at the sight. your palms met her thighs as you got closer. “come on princess. use that pretty mouth of yours, hm?” you complied, dragging your tongue through her folds to collect her sweet slick, making her grunt as you hummed. “yeah. just like that. atta girl.”

she tasted so good…

her fingers dug into your hair, pushing you flush against her cunt as her head fell back, a groan leaving her lips when you eagerly sucked on her clit. she was so pent up and sensitive due to the stress…

she was leaking, already turned on by having had you cumming on her fingers. and now that you were on your knees for her… there was no sight she adored more.

you were eating her out like a starved woman, pants leaving her lips. “so fucking needy…” “tastes good baby? you like eating my pussy?” you nodded, moaning as your tongue plunged inside her hole. “of course you do. you like being used, don’t you?” you moaned. “come on. fuck me. need you to make me feel better.”

you exchanged your fingers with your tongue, pushing inside and making shane moan. she sounded so fucking sweet when she did, eyebrows knitted together and eyes squinted close as her jaw fell slack.

“shit. just like that.”

you sucked on her clit, kissed her folds, steadily thrusted your fingers to pull out of her more moans and grunts. and when you curled them to hit her g spot, she tugged on your locks, pushing you harder against her. she was close. you knew.

“gonna cum. gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours. fuck. gonna make a mess outta you.” you moaned, moving your fingers faster as she humped your face, thighs clenching and squirming as she gushed all over your mouth with a beautiful pornographic moan. your eyes looked at her the moment she fell apart, wanting to take on the sight through your eyelashes. ‘cause she’s looked so fucking perfect every time she came…

you cleaned her up, tasting and drinking up her juices. your chin and lips shone with it. the hand that stood on your hair fell to your cheek, her thumb tugging on your bottom lip. she looked at you with such lust that made you shiver. “come here.” she said, and you were quick to get on your feet and join her on the bed. you straddled her, and eagerly received her tongue inside your mouth, the mix of the two of you tangible. her hands harshly took your ass, tugging on your soaked panties to pull them off. you two were a mess of hands, getting rid of each others clothes in a frenzy. you looked at her tits, her perfect tits, and couldn’t help but latch onto them as her back hit the duvet. shane groaned, her hands, back on your hips, rocking you back and forth against her. you two looked like two animals in heat. humping each other as drool decorated your chins due to how messy you were being.

“need to fuck you.” you nodded, muttering a ‘please’ as she rolled you over until you were the one pinned against the bed. “so fucking pretty…” she groaned, taking you in. with your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, tits slightly bouncing with your heavy breathing. she positioned the two of you so her cunt would hover over yours. you didn’t have to beg twice, ‘cause she was already thrusting against your wetness, clits bumping against the other and making the two of you moan. you were so worked up. “so wet… all of this for eating my pussy, baby?” you nodded. “so cute.” you let out a scream when she harshly thrusted against you, the sound of your slick filling the bedroom. “such a good girl, letting me use her… look at this pussy, hm? soaked wet just for me. isn’t that right princess?” you nodded, and she clicked her tongue. “words.”

“yes, shane. fuck. just for you.” she moaned. she loved it when you called her name. it sounded so sweet falling from your lips…

your hips unconsciously thrusted against hers. you could already feel your orgasm building up. her hands cupped your tits, stimulating your nipples. your moans became more and more loud. letting her now that you were close.

“come on baby. be a good girl cum for me, i know you want to.” just a little praising and you were falling apart, gushing against her cunt as your back arched. just the sight and a couple more thrusts had her groaning as she felt her release hit her, fucking the two of you through it until the overstimulation became too much. she laid beside you, tucking her face on the crook of your shoulder as she pulled you into her arms and you caressed her hair, your fingers lacing through it. “thank you.” she muttered and you kissed her cheek. “i love you, baby.” she said, softly kissing your swollen lips, her thumb drawing circles on your hip.

“i love you too, shane.” you smiled, and kissed her back. the kiss was sweet and slow yet deep, and when she pulled away she asked:

“shower with me?”

you chuckled at the smirk on her lips.

“let’s go.” and yet. you gave in.

-

a/n; my first shane fic!! idk if it’ll get reads since it seems like there are not many shane fics on the app but anyways i love her and had to write about her.

hope y’all like it! :))

[fleurriee]

— protection duty ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!pregnant reader

synopsis ; it had been a few months now since you found out you were pregnant, and the paranoia of your mate can either be sweet or... annoying.

word count ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, slight angst???, established relationship (mates).

warnings ; reader experiencing abdominal pains, overbearing neteytam if that counts but we'll continue to love him anyway???

author’s note ; the entire time i was writing this i had baby fever... what do i need to do to get my own neteyam?? this is part of my dad!neteyam series, which you can find in my masterlist below!

previous part ; next part

dad!neteyam series masterlist main masterlist request a fic!

"Here, let me."

For almost the entire day, you had found yourself confound to the same surrounding walls of the Tsahik tent. The predicament of being pregnant - let alone with the heir to the Olo'eyktan of the Omitkaya clan - was something you definitely hadn't seen coming. Of course, you understood their worries, but when it started to become a constant reoccurrence, it seemed a little too much.

You absolutely appreciated every gesture the clan offered you - whether it was helping you walk across the way, helping you sit down, helping you collect your food. It was endearing, but sometimes, you wished you could go back to the girl you were before, the one who could do things for herself without the fear of being coddled.

Obviously you had regular check ups with Mo'at to ensure everything was going smoothly with both yourself and your baby. This mainly included instances where she would poke and prod against your body, keeping her ears close to hear anything particular, calling out signs from Ewya that spoke of a blessing.

Today, however, was different.

Stupidly, you had accidentally let slip that you had begun to feel slight aches around your stomach. There wasn't anything specific about these pains, either, which made them more difficult to hide - they could occur at any part of the day, no matter who you were with or what you were doing, and you could only discreetly wince so much until it was becoming too much to bear on your own.

A small part of you was relieved by your own slip up to the Tsahik - that way, you had someone to confide in, who you could talk your problems away to and would understand. You were too nervous to tell Neteyam, already knowing the exact reaction he'd have. It wasn't as though you could have asked for a better mate by your side as you slowly started to take this journey together, but he was extremely protective.

And, you could understand his protectiveness when it came to the two of you - this was your first child, the first time you would be experiencing this path, and thankfully, you were doing it together. But, when his hands wouldn't leave your figure, keeping his steps directly next to your own, you had to start biting back your snaps. You didn't want to fight with him, after all, this was his baby, too, but despite doing this together, the stress hanging upon your shoulders and aching against your lower back was becoming too much.

So, when you let slip of your pains to Mo'at, the protectiveness you had seen in Neteyam had slowly started to transfer to his grandmother, clear as day as to where both himself and his mother got such a trait from in the first place. In an instant, she was rushing over to your figure, hands pressing against your stomach to spot the signs that you couldn't even if you had tried. You could see it clear as day when her gaze lingered on your own - this was her grandson's first born child, and all she wanted was for her family to be happy.

Thankfully, nothing had been wrong. With a smile full of reassurance directed solely at you, Mo'at had ensured you that the pains were natural due to the position your child was laying in - they were putting more pressure against your back than normal, but it was nothing to worry about. Such a revelation had you feeling insanely relieved, hands resting gently against your stomach as you rubbed your fingers to and fro. Already your child was up to no good.

But, in the end, her worries won over, and she insisted that you spend the day with her, just to hold any precautions necessary. You had sighed in reluctance, not wanting to get in the way of the Tsahik with her day-to-day tasks, but one warning look was all it took for you to agree, albeit, grumbling under your breath.

It wasn't too long after that when Kiri entered the tent, ready to work alongside her grandmother. Upon spotting you, she gave you a questioning expression, one you just answered with a subtle shake of your head, insinuating you'd rather not get into it right then. She didn't mind, instantly beginning her training as you watched on.

That was how the day panned out for you - sitting comfortably with your legs crossed, hands resting on top of your stomach, secure, back finally getting the rest it was screaming out for as you leant against a table. Every now and again, you would share input based on the training you were receiving before having them put on hold due to falling pregnant. It was nice, calming.

It wasn't as though there was much else you could do, especially considering your condition. Neteyam was out all day - he had grumbled and hissed at his father for forcing him away from his mate when she needed him the most, but all it took was Jake insisting that he needed to provide for his family more so than ever before, meaning he had to go out and hunt with the rest of those responsible with such a task. Leave it to Neteyam to step up to a mighty, protective role - he'd do anything for the two of you, that much was obvious.

Towards the end of the day, you had received another visitor - Neytiri. Throughout your pregnancy so far, your mother-in-law had been nothing but kind, understanding, nurturing. You felt at peace when you were around Neytiri, the woman always ensuring you were happy and okay before asking any other questions. She knew first hand what it was like to go through what you were, especially as a figurehead to the entire clan, and she'd be damned if she were to let you crumble under the weight of it all.

Neytiri greeted both her mother and her daughter before making her way over to you, squatting down and asking how you were. The question bought you ease and solace, wrapped within the comforts of a fellow mother's warm embrace. She'd brought you some fruits, too, for your dinner that night, stating that not only were they deliciously beautiful, but that they had properties within them that could help ease any potential pains you may been feeling. For a split second, you panicked, wondering whether your winces hadn't been all that discreet in the end, and waiting for the inevitable scolding you'd receive for not seeking help immediately. Instead, she only continued to smile softly at you, placing the bowl down near you and subtly asking for permission to place her hands against your stomach.

This was something Neytiri loved to do - she said being close to a child still in the womb like this was comforting for both the mother and the baby, the both of them relishing in the embrace of knowing they were never alone, that they had a family - an entire clan - standing behind them, ready to receive them home. And, she was right, like she always is. Such a gesture caused you relaxation, the constraints dispersing within the seconds until it was like they were never there at all.

You had left not long after that, stating that you needed to get back home before Neteyam did to ensure he had some food waiting for him after a gruelling day of hunting. Before you could leave the tent, Mo'at had shot up from her position, gesturing you closer to her and doing something similar to what Neytiri had done earlier. Mo'at was breathing in deeply, eyes closed as she spoke to the will of Ewya. When the Tsahik did this, you couldn't help but worry for a short second that maybe something was wrong, but the pleasant smile etched into the elder Na'vi's lips forced all those thoughts away into oblivion.

Finally, you were on your way home, a small bowl of fruits in one hand and the other on top of your protruding stomach that was beginning its little renditions of rumbling. The sweet scent of the food just below you were invading your scenes, and you were sure you had never smelled anything sweeter, a pure smile of bliss painted upon your features.

That was when Neteyam came.

He was by your side in an instant, the warmth of his body radiating through to your own, hands moving subconsciously towards the bowl to take it from your own grasp. Looking over at him, it was clear as day he hadn't been to a healing tent like they were supposed to after every hunt, even if it was just to get checked out. Neteyam had no scratches on him, of course, but he was a little filthy, chest heaving with panting breaths, sweat beading upon the top of his head. He must've seen you on your way home.

"Neteyam," you chastised him, keeping the bowl tight in your hold. "I can carry it-"

"It's fine, yawne (beloved)," he replied, shaking his head, adamant. His gaze was piercing as he looked intently down at you, unrelenting in his actions - it was obvious he wasn't going to give in, not like you wanted him to. "I'll do it for you."

You grumbled to yourself, eyes rolling in disbelief at such a level of protectiveness emanating from your mate - you understood it sometimes, but this was ridiculous. "It is only a bowl of fruit."

With a playful shrug, he smirks, knowing he's starting to get on your nerves with the way he's acting, but clearly not caring enough to stop himself. There was nothing on both the world of Pandora and all the galaxies around that could stop him from treating you with the upmost care and compassion as a mate and father-to-be should. If anything were to happen to you, he'd never forgive himself, even if the perpetrator was a bowl of fruit. "And, what type of Na'vi would I be if I didn't help my pregnant mate?"

There's no chance to retaliate against him - in an instant, he's moving over to your tent, opening the flap of the entrance open with his arm as he gestures you to walk through. The sight of him sends shivers down your spine, your mind creating images of nights you'd spent intimately together - the way he was such a gentleman towards you, so caring and doting, had you practically frothing at the mouth. Not that he'd do anything with you now, though.

Shaking your head in mock displeasure, you walked into your tent, grumbling as you went, eyeing him with slight annoyance of him prohibiting you from practically everything. You loved him for it, of course you did, but no matter how annoyed you'd become at each overbearing action, the two of you knew he wasn't going to stop, so what was the point in arguing when it was only going to be a losing battle?

Moving further into your tent, you walk around the middle where a small table had been both built and set up by Neteyam just after you moved in. It was ritual that you always ate together there, sharing stories of your day and wondering what the next one would bring. It always brought you sadness when Neteyam couldn't make it - there had been several times since moving in together that he had to go out on a hunting trip for days, but his family were always sure to invite you to their meal, not wanting you to be alone.

Standing in your usual spot, you watched in your peripheral as Neteyam started to tie the entrance closed, wanting the two of you to have as much privacy and time to be your true selves together. You started to bend your knees, arms preparing to catch your weighted figure on the way down when another sharp pain pierced right against your abdomen, sending jolting sensations right to the bottom of your toes. An agonizing hiss escaped past your lips before you could remember to stop yourself, too busy focusing on the pain bearing down on you, knees wobbling as you struggled to hold yourself up right.

Immediately, Neteyam was by your side, bowl shoved to the floor carelessly, its contents spilling about the place. His protective side washed over him, glazing him over in a red light until all he was doing was panicking. He took note of your scrunched up features, the way your brows furrowed, eyes wrenched shut, legs unsteady. Gently, but with a rush of urgency, he placed one hand to the back of your neck, willing your head to look up at him, to focus on him, and the other on top of your plump stomach, fondly caressing the skin with his thumb. "What is it - what's wrong, yawne (beloved)?"

You give yourself a minute to catch your breath, shaking your head and willing yourself back to the present, mind relentlessly reminding yourself that it's okay, Mo'at said it's fine. Still, you don't move, staying in his arms that brought you such a strong feeling of safety. "It is nothing, my muntxa (mate), just a bit of pain." You swallow deeply, the pain beginning to subside. "Your grandmother said it is normal." Looking up at him, you instantly recognised both the hesitance and concern rooted deeply within his gaze, eyes slightly crinkled and a crease between his brows. It didn't matter how many times you told him the same thing now, he'd be by your side constantly. "It's okay, ma'teyam. Let me just-"

You attempted to unwind yourself from his arms, going to try and sit down again so you could start the meal that should have been completed ages ago now. But, Neteyam wouldn't let you, noticing exactly what you were doing and not allowing it. Whilst his grip on your delicate figure tightened just a little, he shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I will do our food tonight, muntxate (wife)."

Guilt started to cleave away at your mind - Neteyam had surely had a long day, no doubt only wanting to be home and within your arms, surrounding by his own growing family, appetite full from a meal you had made. Yet, here he was, insisting he make the food for the two of you - well, three of you - despite the tiredness clearly shown on his features. "Neteyam, really-" you sighed.

"Please, my syulang (flower)." He begged, the desperation evident in his tone of voice, and it only ached your heart more. The soft sensation of his thumb continuously rubbing against your stomach paired along with the compassion in his gaze, never once faltering from your own, already had you agreeing with him. "Let me do this for you." His voice was soft, words spoken tenderly, like speaking any louder might've hurt you or the baby.

With his head resting gently upon your own, you felt yourself beginning to fall down the path that was only filled with him. How could you say no to such a request when he was desperate to provide for you, wanting to be the head of his own family that he couldn't wait to watch grow with you by his side?

You nod, causing a slow but bright smile to be casted upon his lips. His hands don't move from your body, instead making their way around your figure until he has you turned around, situated in front of him and guiding you over to the mat the two of you share. Actions considerate of the potential pain you could still be in, he starts to help you lower yourself down, one hand against the small of your back, and the other not having once moved from your stomach, from your baby. His touch was as though he was protecting them from the world, from anything daring enough to threaten them - Ewya help whoever would when they cross Neteyam.

Placed gently upon your mat, comfortably in the same position you continue to find yourself in - legs crossed over one another and arms wrapped around the entirety of your stomach - your mate stood above you, looking down at you lovingly. Sending you a warm smile, he placed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, before eventually parting and moving back over to the bowl of discarded fruit.

You watch him as he works, preparing his family's dinner, hands moving deftly about the table's surface. He made sure to give you a bigger portion now that you were technically eating for two, adding in the fruits he instantly knows were from his mother after having seeing them all the time when growing up. Every now and again, he'll aim his attention back over to you, no doubt checking on you and making sure you're comfortable and okay, only to find your eyes automatically following his every move. He chuckles to himself, his tail twitching at the way he can gain such a loving reaction from you, willing his attention back to his task.

You just can't help yourself when he looks like that - the way the domesticity oozes from him so deliciously only has you buzzing with excitement. Just the thought of what he'll be like when the baby eventually does arrive causes your flesh to rise, your heart fluttering widely. If you'd have known he could only get more attractive during a time like this, you might've given yourself more warning - then again, you knew nothing could really prepare you for the man before you.

Before you know it, Neteyam is up and making his way over to you, gently cupping your portion of food and handing it over to you. Hurriedly, he goes back for his own, settling himself down beside you, knees touching and warmth excruciating. You smile widely at him at the way he's treating you, slowly beginning to come to terms with his protectiveness - as he said, it's his job as both your mate and the soon-to-be father of the family. Bringing the food up to your mouth, you take a small bite, relishing in the tastes it exudes, loving the mixture Neteyam had made just for you.

A moan of delight falls from your lips, eyes peeling back open to fall upon him, attention already locked on you. "Thank you, ma'teyam."

He smiles warmly back at you, savouring the way you look at him. Happiness washes over him that you enjoyed the meal he rushed for you, only now hoping that his baby enjoyed some of it, too. Nodding, you watch as some of braids fall into his face. "Of course, my muntxate (wife). I'll always take care of my girls."

Such words have you raising your eyes, pointedly looking straight at him. You can feel your ears twitch as you process the exact thing he had just softly spoken to you. "Your girls?" you question, teasingly smiling, but unable to hide the pure adoration peeking through your façade. With a free hand, you start to rub against your stomach, part of you hoping against all odds that your unborn baby could hear their parents. "Who says they are a girl, hmm?"

Shrugging, Neteyam takes another bite of his food, speaking with his mouth full. When he's outside, in front of the clan, he can't do things like this - he can't show off his childish side and be the Na'vi he feels he truly is. He has to put on a front, but not with you - never with you. Allowing him to show himself off like this, has only ever made him love you more. "Father's intuition."

You laugh loudly at his reasoning. "Father's intuition?" you repeat, shaking your head at him. "And, what about the mother's intuition?"

The teasing between you only continues to go back and forth, a smile full of adoration playing on his lips. Shaking his head, he leans closer to you, voice quiet but tender. "I know I'm not normally right about these things," he begins, giddiness starting to wash over you as you watch his every move, "but, this I definitely am."

Heart warm and mushy, your mind begins to show you quick images of a future that could be waiting for you - Neteyam swinging your unborn daughter in the air, her little, high-pitched giggles loud within the clan; Neteyam walking around with her all day, showing off everything her sempu (father) does to help provide and feeling proud when she shows interest; Neteyam wanting to teach her absolutely everything, wishing her to be fierce and independent, but not so much so she was unsafe or didn't feel the need to confide with her parents.

You can't help but look up at him like he's the one who hung all the stars in the sky, like he was the embodiment of Ewya herself.

Eyes still penetrating him, mind still hazy with beautiful images, you bite your lip, unable to hide the growing smile that's evident of the way he speaks about your family. "I guess a girl does sound nice."

Breathlessly laughing, he finishes off his portion, gesturing for you to each as much of yours as you could - he knew sometimes, despite always ensuring you gave yourself a larger portion, that you struggled to finish a full meal. When you ate all you wanted, he took the discarded leftovers, placing them in the bowl his mother sent and leaving it on the side. Now back with you, you look up at him, wondering what his plan is to do next. You can't say you're entirely surprised when he bends low beside you, picking you up in his arms and beginning to lay you back against the mat with care, assuring that you weren't in any pain.

Since moving in together and decorating your tent exactly how the two of you loved it, making sure it felt exactly like home, Neteyam had insisted that he would be the one to sleep on the outside of the mat, leaving you encased between your mate's body and the side of the tent. You never had any disagreements with his arrangements, but you'd asked him why out of curiosity, with him explaining that if anything were to happen, he could protect you before they could threaten you. You remember feeling giddy at his confession at the time, and now that you were pregnant, that had only reached ten-fold.

You lay on your back, waiting for Neteyam to make himself comfortable beside you; one arm placed under your head, acting as a pillow, and the other situated right where it always found itself - upon your stomach. His hand moved almost subconsciously, rubbing soothingly against your skin, drawing patterns and wondering if his baby could tell he was near.

Like a routine now, Neteyam doesn't allow himself even a single moment to think about falling asleep, no matter how tired he is or how much he wishes to float away, dreaming of you and your baby. Instead, he lifts himself forward, resting his head just inches away your stomach, and speaks softly, whispering the words into your skin so they can hear every word he has to say to them. "I love you, ma'evenge (my girl). Goodnight, and make sure to be kind to your mother so she can get some good rest, too."

Chuckling at his words, Neteyam lies back down, situating himself right by your side, snuggling in closer to you. He cups his hand against your cheek, bringing you in for a loving kiss, one that had you feeling a tingle of excitement.

Pulling away from you, your mate stares intently into your eyes. "Promise me you will tell me when you feel pain like that again."

You melt into his embrace, head snuggling into the palm of hand, sighing in defeat. "Neteyam," you relent, bringing your own hand up to run up and down his chest in smoothing patterns, attempting to calm his worries. "Your grandmother - the Tsahik - said it is perfectly normal to get them every now and again when-"

Neteyam shakes his head, refusing. His eyes are narrowed, adamant. "No, I do not care if they are normal, for whatever reason." His words have you stumped, watching him without breaking away from his gaze. "I need to know what you are feeling, and I need to help you through it." Blinking, you can feel a build-up of tears at the way he speaks to you, so caring, so devoting. "As your muntxa (mate), and as a sempu (father)."

You can't help but feel bad for having put him in this situation in the first place - you know now, with how achingly clear it is, that telling Neteyam of your growing pains was always what you should've done to begin with. It didn't matter how protective he got over the two of you, because his intentions were always clear - to keep you safe and healthy. For you to have denied that of him was wrong.

Licking your lips, you breathe in relief, looking up at him tenderly, eyes alight. "Okay, ma'teyam," you relent, "I will - I promise."

Leaning up slightly, you press a feather-light kiss along his jaw, feeling him starting to relax from beneath your touch. You pull away and spot the tiredness beginning to take over him entirely, so you snuggle in closer to him, your head nestling into the crook of his neck and allowing him was to engulf you whole. His tail moves against you, wrapping itself from around Neteyam and coiling over your bulging stomach, body subconsciously feeling the need to protect his mate and baby.

With a sigh of relief, the two of you allow sleep to invade your senses, slipping off into a world of pure bliss that you can only hope will be a part of your futures.

taglist ;

@monahiiii @bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites

[coldfanbou]

Purification or Desecration

Day 10! So funny thing I got multiple requests of Nun sana so I combined them a bit. Anyway, Sana can't stop herself in this fic

Length 2.1K

Sana X mreader

“What is wrong, my child?” The feminine voice asks from the other side of the confessional. As of late, you’ve been having impure thoughts about the community’s favorite nun, Sana. You decided to come to confess it in the church. 

“Um, well…I-I’ve been having impure thoughts lately.”

“Do not worry, my child. I will not cast judgment upon you. You are free to speak.” The voice says. 

“Well, I’ve been having these impure and sexual thoughts about Sister Sana. I know it’s wrong, but I just feel these urges when I look at her. I’m sorry for these and all my sins.”

“I- well, that is certainly not what I expected. I suggest you speak to sister Sana personally. I’m sure she’ll be able to provide you with more guidance and grant you freedom from your urges.” The person responds. 

 You give the person a small thanks before leaving the booth and heading home. You would speak to Sana the next day, hoping to fix your feelings about her. After waiting a few until you were gone to step out, Sana came out of the other side of the booth. She looks around nervously before leaving the area as a whole. 

The next night, you came to her. "Sister, I have something to speak to you about. May I come in?"

"You may," Sana says as she steps aside, allowing you into her abode. There were no religious figures in your small village until a couple of months ago when nine sisters came in. They helped lead the village now. "What seems to be the problem, young man?" 

"I- um," you gulp; seeing Sana up close brings your impure thoughts to the forefront. You stand silently, staring at Sana. Though her clothes conceal much of her body, they clung to her in just a way that brought those thoughts to you. Sana looks at you; as more time passes in silence, she asks her question again. "I-I've been having impure thoughts about you, sister. I was told to come to you to talk about it."

"I see; come take a seat." She says, walking a few steps to her bed. She pats the space next to her. "Tell me more about these impure thoughts." 

"It’s a bit embarrassing sister." You say, sitting next to her.

"Then tell me where these impure thoughts impact you most." 

"I can't." 

"It’s okay. Show me if you need to." You hesitantly take Sana's hand and place it on your crotch, where a bulge has developed. “I-I see, they’ve progressed further than I thought. As a sister, it is my duty to aid you.” Sana takes a deep breath; she had been taught this when she became a sister. Her life before she became a sister was spent sleeping around, constantly hungry for sex. She already knew how to use her body, but to have to use her skills now that she’d become a sister was going to be a challenge. Sana took another deep breath; her actions now would be to aid a member of the church, not to give herself pleasure. “I can aid you in dispelling these impure thoughts. P-please take off your pants.” You feel stunned at her words, but considering her position, you trust her. You stand and take off your pants, freeing your bulge. Sana was stunned by your cock; it had been years since she’s seen one, and she felt her loins start burning. As you sit back down, Sana places her hand on your cock. “Please relax and let me take care of you.” You feel Sana’s grip on your shaft; it’s firm, yet she’s putting little strength into it. Her small, soft hand begins to slide along your shaft. You tilt your head back and groan as you feel her hand rub against the head. “You can release your impurities at any time; try not to hold on to it.” She says, continuing to move her hand along your shaft. You close your eyes and focus on the sensation.

Sana unconsciously licks her lips and stares at your cock as precum starts to flow from it and cover her hand. Her free hand begins to move to her crotch, but Sana manages to stop herself. She continues stroking your cock, keeping a constant speed that makes you near your climax. “Sister, I think it’s coming.” 

“Let it out, let it all out.” She says; Sana feels her mouth become wet as she hungers for your cum. A few moments later, you cum on her hand; your impurities cover Sana’s hand as she strokes your cock. Sana leans forward but quickly stops. You start to shrink in her hand, and Sana pulls away from you. “It seems like they’ve gone away. Sana says with a forced smile. If you continue to have this problem, come to me. I’ll help you with it; just come to me at night.” You nod your head and pull your pants up before leaving. Sana goes to the bathroom and turns the water on. As she’s about to wash her hands, she stops, staring at the cum on her stained hand. She brings it up to her nose and smells it. It’s intoxicating to her, and Sana slips her fingers into her mouth, tasting the salty liquid and moaning before realizing what she’s doing and washing her hands. She splashes her face, trying to clear her head of the thoughts she’s having.

The next day, you feel much better and can go about your tasks, but the following day, you struggle after seeing Sana and have to visit her again. This becomes a routine for you; every other day, you go to Sana to be purified, and she does her best every day. Until one day, Sana says the problem needs to be solved another way. In truth, she was being broken down by giving you those hand jobs. The cum you would leave on her hand would no longer be washed away. She would drink it all, always wanting more. “I fear that you’re impurities will not go away so easily. I will have to take further measures. Please drop your pants.” You do as told and sit down next to Sana. “Please lay down and spread your legs just a bit.” You follow the new instructions. Sana gets between your legs, “Please relax as usual.” Sana inches closer to your cock; she grasps it in her hand and strokes it until it is fully hardened. For a moment, she thinks about her vow to the church and considers how her actions would be seen. This was breaking protocol, but Sana knew she could say it was part of her duty. That was what she told herself. As she stroked your cock, she felt her mouth become full of saliva. She was practically drooling. She presses her lips against the head and swallows it. You moan loudly; her mouth was warm and wet; as she took more of your cock in, you could feel her tongue run along the underside. A gently sucking sensation brings you great pleasure; when Sana’s tongue swirls around your shaft, you can’t help but let out another moan. Sana's mind becomes mush as she gets her first taste of your cock. She bobs her head quickly, taking more and more of you in each time. Once she reaches your base and feels your cock hit the back of her throat, her eyes roll into the back of her head. She continues like a mindless zombie, only coming back when she feels your cock throbbing in her throat. 

“Sister, they’re coming.” You moan. A second later, you release your cum into Sana’s throat, pouring it into her. She happily drinks it, not missing a drop. She pulls out slowly, her tongue swirling along your shaft, gathering any drop she may have missed. She wipes her mouth, “I think we may need to have you come in more often. You seem to have a lot of impurities in your body. If things get any worse, drastic measures must be taken.” Sana would continue to give you blowjobs nearly every day, relishing her job and slowly returning to her previous state. Yet somehow, she managed to keep herself from moving on to sex for some time. She knew in the back of her mind she could never justify that action, but the more cum she drank, the less she began to care.  She spent her nights alone, fingering herself until the early dawn, until she would have to bathe and then put on her robes and act like a pious woman.

Nights would go on like that until you met Sana one morning. “Excuse me, sister.”

“Yes? Are you having problems?” 

“I-um am. Is it possible that you cleanse me tonight?”

“Hmm, You seem to constantly be in need despite our methods. I believe drastic measures are needed.” Sana says without a second thought. It’s only after her words that she considers the actions she’s taken. She thinks to herself that she can’t cross that barrier, but then her mind is flooded by the memories of her previous life, of the pleasure she once had.  

“Thank you, sister. I shall meet you tonight.” Sana nods and continues with her tasks. Reaching a place where she can be alone, Sana rubs her crotch before stopping herself again. She grows frustrated and knows she’s losing the battle. She heads to the church to pray for the rest of the day. As men come and go, she can think of nothing else but what they could do to her and the pleasure they could give her.  She could not clear her mind. 

That night, when you came into Sana’s abode, she had you wait on her bed, telling you the treatment would require you to be naked. While she went to the bathroom, you did as you were told. Inside, her mind was beyond what would be done if anyone found out she could no longer resist her urges. When she came back, Sana was standing there naked. You got hard immediately. Sana's body was toned; her breasts were perky and of good size. Your eyes travel downward, and you see how wet she is. “Sister?”

“Lay back and relax; this treatment requires the utmost care.” Sana climbs onto the bed and crawls toward you. She straddles you, placing your cock between her folds and your stomach. “Let me do the work. Relax.” She says as she moves her hips, your cock slides between her lips, slowly being coated in her nectar. “Mmm, I think this is going to work,” Sana says, trying to hide her moans. You groan, and Sana moves on to the next part. She lifts herself and positions your cock against her; she sinks onto it slowly. “Ahh, nearly there.” She moans as she reaches your base. With your cock buried inside Sana, she smiles. Sana revels in the feeling of being filled. She remembers just how much she loved sex. She starts to move immediately,  bouncing on your cock. Her modest breasts bounce along with her; she takes your hands and places them on her breasts. “Release everything you have into me. I’ll purify you,” She moans. You moan loudly, feeling Sana’s wall massage your cock as she bounces on you. You knead her breasts; the pleasure shoots through Sana’s body. She slams herself on your cock, whispering, “I’m going to cum.” 

Having been so long, Sana was sensitive and was nearing her climax already. She continues to bounce on your cock, enjoying every moment. She buries your cock in her as she comes crashing down. She cums on your cock; you feel her walls clamp down on you. The tightness of her cunt brings you closer to your own orgasm. “Sister, it’s coming.”

“Let it out inside me; give me it all!” Sana screams as she starts moving again; she’s more sensitive now. Every time your cock rams against her womb, Sana feels another orgasm course through her body, wracking it with pleasure. The constant tightness makes you cum, and you spill your impurities into Sana. Sana throws her head back and moans loudly; her walls milk you dry as she rocks her hips. “So much inside.” Sana moans with a satisfied smile on her face. 

The door to Sana’s home busts open, “We heard screaming; what’s wrong?” The other sisters stand in the doorway along with the other villagers; they look at the two of you in shock. Sana defended you, saying she was curing you of your impurities. Despite the others telling you she was lying, you believed the sister and were banished from the village alongside her. The two of you managed to survive building your home far from anyone, where the two of you would go at it night and day. Sana claimed she was purifying you. You believed her lies for the rest of your days with her.

[myouicieloz]

💭 richgirl!aeri x studentathlete!reader

not proofread j some silly thoughts💕

pt.2

- you were thrilled to know you were going to share a dorm with another international student, specially since you were having a hard time adjusting.

- giselle was a sweetheart from day one, introducing you to everyone and making sure you always felt included.

- she was very classy and noticeably wealthy—you could tell, by her clothes and by the way she carried herself, that she came form money. besides, whenever you’d go out to fancy museums or coffee shops, something would always make your eyes grow big: always amused to your surroundings—yet she’d never bat an eye at it.

- you were given a full ride scholarship, and the only reason you were attending this specific university was due to the soccer coach spotting you at an international club tournament you played in new york and scouting you. you were hesitant, at first, but you weren’t going to get an offer to a university that was that prestigious at home anyway, so you decided to go.

- your parents were still paying for your stay, with much effort, so you tried to spend as little as possible.

- which meant subtly ducking from your roommate’s daily coffees and girl dates.

- giselle actually thought you didn’t like her until she realized you spent most of the time in the dorms because you were quite literally broke.

- it’s an issue she solves quickly enough.

- at first she just bluntly offers to pay for your stuff, but stops herself as you keep denying her efforts, with a flustered face. it’s only when she changes techniques that she starts succeeding in her efforts.

- she’s subtle, then: giselle gifts you clothes she claims that are “thrifted”, makes sure there’s always your favorite drink placed on your desk whenever you return from your practices, buys you the shoes she caught you lurking on the internet for far too long, claiming it’s your birthday present—even though your birthday isn’t until the upcoming months...

- accepting a purse she claimed she’d never used and “was in her closet for ages”. you later get told by a classmate said purse was just out of stock in seoul, even though it had just been announced

- you don’t suspect a thing, keeping her little gifts and dismissing them as just little treats she gives you as a friend. it’s giselle, after all. she was born into luxury, and gift giving is her primary love language.

- besides, you grew tired of rejecting her efforts to spoil you, and you hate to see her so offended when you tell her you just can’t keep that many presents. you hate the faces she does when she doesn’t get what she wants. and it frustrates you to not be able to gift her just the same. you wish you could spoil her rotten, too.

- as you stop telling her ‘no’, giselle becomes more and more confident.

- “it’s what roomies do, Y/n, don’t worry.” she assures you every time you try to give her the gifts back. in reality, giselle loves to see you dolled up in the stuff she chose. being the star player, you quickly gained popularity, so what better way to tell those useless whores who were always ogling you that you belonged to her already? what better way than having her brand all over you?

- she even gave you a friendship ring, as she called it, once you two went to the university’s fall ball, to symbolize how deeply you’ve connected since you started attending uni.

- you were basically either with your teammates or aeri and her friends. she was pretty, outgoing and naturally insanely popular. she dragged you with her everywhere, having you follow her around like a puppy. you didn’t mind, though: her friends were funny enough, and you liked getting to hear the drama and the gossips without being a part of it. they were also always polite to you, too, so you enjoyed hanging out with her and her group. they weren’t your friends, though. you reminded yourself that every now and then. just colleagues.

-

- she loved how shy you got when she touched you, too. it took her much, much patience, but after nearly a whole year, you were finally comfortable enough to be relaxed at her touches.

- an occasional hand on your waist, a kiss on the cheek; hugs that went for perhaps too long, cuddling sessions in the dorm as you watched her turn her buzzing phone off (she had a party to attend when you called her for a movie night. “oh, it’s ok unnie!! have fun.” you told her, but giselle was already sitting beside you and grabbing a hold of the blanket for herself.)

- she insisted on cuddling until you fell asleep too, even though your bed didn’t exactly fit both of you. however, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny her anything, already feeling like you owned her so much. she was the one who was always taking care of you, not only with her little gifts. she was always asking about your practices, if you needed any help with your classes, whether people were being nice and polite to you, since you still struggled with your korean when talking to many people at once. you were truly grateful to have her, so, naturally, you’d do anything for her.

- you’d often find yourself waking up with her hands groping your tits or lingering too close to the hem of your panties, but you’d never think much of it, dismissing it as your friend being just unconscious while sleeping.

- she was possessive, too. you could see the cold stare she gave your teammates whenever you had one of them over to study. funny enough, they never looked at you the same way again, nor did they accept your invitations to host movie nights anymore.

- your only friend (besides aeri) was jini. you were both new to the team and had many classes together. like you, she was shy, lost and very reserved, which was part of the reason you instantly clicked. you enjoyed hanging out with her between classes and practices, even more once you got to know her a bit better: jini was actually quite energetic and bubbly, always talking about her favorite mangas or the new songs she was listening to. you liked to hear how passionately she talked about things, sometimes so immersed she wouldn’t even notice you getting left behind in the sea of people, as you walked through your classes.

- naturally, giselle despised your teammate, always making sure to hug you extra hard and send her hard glances whenever you looked away.

- whenever she felt as if you didn’t have 100% of your attention on her, she’d buy you a fancy gift: an ipad of your favorite color, a watch, new earrings... it kept you clingy for days, entertained with your new stuff; just as she liked it.

- the first time you fucked, the two of you had just returned to another one of her fancy dinners with her friends. you were drunk, hot, and messy, struggling to get out of the small black dress that clung tightly to your body— which, of course, giselle had chosen for you to wear. you asked for help to take it off, but as soon as you felt your roommates long fingers trace your bare back, you lost it: you turned around, kissing her fiercely as the dress fell onto the ground, leaving you completely exposed.

- a wave of winds roamed through the window, hitting your body and making you shiver, feeling your nipples harden and your conscience returning. you took a step back, murmuring apologies and being extremely embarrassed, until you felt her hands on your waist again, pushing you onto your mattress as her body hovered on top of yours.

- she whispered it was ok; her pretty pet was horny, that’s all. she’d take care of it. and so she latched her mouth onto your body, making you moan loudly.

- you woke up still dizzy, with your body filled with bruises. you were still ashamed but deeply satisfied, and aeri brushed your hair as she said you could still be friends or something else, if you’d like.

- from then, you’ve been her girlfriend, though things had hardly changed. only now, she encouraged you to be vocal about the things you wanted her to buy for you, and you had to work for them.

- regardless, you love being her pet ;)

-

bonus: you didn’t realize you were kind of her sugar baby (even though she was only months older) until one of your teammates pointed it out, giving you a whole lot of harsh words and making a show of talking about how you were only with aeri because of her money. you ignored your girlfriend for a whole week after that, until she decided she’d given you plenty of space and confronted you with a serious tone. you started crying and she listened attentively as you explained the filthy words your teammate had said to you and all of her twisted suggestions. giselle nodded and pulled you close, kissing you and reassuring she knew none of that was true. yes, you were kind of a sugar baby since giselle spoiled you so much, but it didn’t have to be like that if you didn’t want it to be. you brushed your tears away, saying it wasn’t that; the girl’s words were just so agressive… the thought of people feeling so sure you didn’t love giselle as much as she loved you was overwhelming, which was why you distanced yourself. she understood, murmuring for you to tell her immediately when such things happened instead of refusing to see her, which you nod as she kissed the top of your head.

the girl gets expelled from your team 2 days after your conversation with giselle. however, you don’t connect the dots, only shrugging and not paying much attention to jini’s words as you walk to the cafeteria.

[imtryingbuck]

Oh, He Cheated

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader walks in on her boyfriend cheating then confessions are made

Word count: 919

Warnings: angst? fluff? ima say both, idk. stds are mentioned, swearing, somebody gets punched, and I think that’s it – oh a protective bucky

Masterlist

Walking into your apartment, you come to a halt. You hear noises of pleasure. Looking into your bedroom you see your boyfriend of 3 years having sex with your best friend. You should be devastated of the betrayal, but you simply can’t however you do have to stifle that booming laughter from clawing its way out. You just walk back out the door quietly shutting the door and head back to the tower. 

You work for Tony as an “assistant” more like you get paid a ridiculous amount of money just to make sure Tony eats and drinks and not sleep in his lab. Curtsy of Pepper. Both look at you as their daughter which is great as you don’t have a good relationship with your parents. You absolutely adore them and the team. They are your family. 

Speaking of family, they’re all sat in the common room talking about something you can’t quite hear. Sam’s the first one to see you, smiling wildly he then looks confused. “What you doing here sugar mama”.

“Yeah thought you headed home”. Comes the voice of your red headed friend Natasha.

“Oh yeah um I walked in on Joe fucking Stacey in my bed so thought I’d come back here, didn’t want to disturb their romp”. You say it like it’s nothing, and if you’re completely honest it’s true. It doesn’t bother you that your boyfriend is sleeping with your best friend.

It’s not the first time he cheated, it happened once and he told you afterwards apparently the guilt got to him. That was a lie, the other woman found out about you so she blackmailed him to tell you. Ever the fool you forgave him he promised not to do it again. You found out about him and Stacey two months ago when Stacey gave you her phone to look through a photo of you two and that’s when you found the videos of them going at it. Then that night whilst he was passed out next to you, you went through his phone to look at his messages between them, they’d been sleeping together for 3 months, he needed his needs to be met and ever the desperate mess she is she let herself be the other woman. You had been busy everyday with the team rebuilding the tower after the latest attack so naturally sex was the last thing on your mind. At first it hurt because she’s been your friend since you were little and you were very much in love with him but now you find it funny. Funny because she told you three months ago she had STDs. He obviously doesn’t know. And that’s why it’s hilarious.

You tell your family this, they’re angry. But you told them you didn’t care anymore the only reason why you was still with him was because of the lease of your apartment. You told them that every time you saw him you wanted to laugh. And that it didn’t matter anyway as you was in love with someone else.

Tony being Tony had already got in touch with your apartment manager to get you off the lease then an hour later you’re back at your apartment with your family behind you. Walking in you see Stacey still there, she smiles at you but you don’t give the gesture back. “Hey boo I just got here wanted to see if you wanted to g-“ her sentence is cut off by Natasha slamming her into the wall. Nats never been a fan. Joe stands frozen looking confused as everyone starts packing your stuff for you, he pathetically attempts to talk to you but gets cut off by Buckys metal fist to his mouth. The team don’t even bat an eye to it but you’re slightly taken back by the punch.

“You ever go near her again or even look at her I will kill you. Try and talk to her I will kill you. Do you understand?” Bucky growls “do you understand”. He shakes Joe by his shirt.

“Yes yes I understand!” He then looks at you “baby what’s this about” he spits the blood out of his mouth.

You look around checking your stuff is gone before you step over to him and Bucky. “If I was you I’d get yourself checked, she’s riddled with stds” Nudging you head in the direction of your now ex best friend. “Oh also the moans she was letting out an hour ago was fake. Your little pecker isn’t great. Ok bye bye” You laugh as you hook your arm with Bucks left one and all of you take your leave. 

Later that night you’re on the rooftop admiring the view when you hear someone clearing their throat behind you. 

“Hey I didn’t mean to startle you” 

“You didn’t Buck” 

“So I um who’s the person you’re in love with?” 

“You” Why did you just admit that god damn it now he’s goin-

He kisses you. The kind of kiss that’s full of love and passion the kind that takes the wind out of you. “I’m in love with you too”. His voice is raspy before you can speak he’s talking again “will you go on a date with me?” You can’t vocalise your reply so you nod enthusiastically.

Tony finds you both the next morning curled up asleep on the couch, covering the two of you with a blanket he had in his hand he can’t help the smile on his face. 

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[futuremrsreid]

Watching (S.R)

Summary: Spencer sleeps over at y/n's place and hears something he isn't supposed to.

Content Warnings: 18+, SMUT, downright filthy smut, voyeurism, dubious consent, humiliation, basically reader is wanking and spencer watches without her knowing

Authors Note: I am obsessed with writing morally wrong fics, but I guess this isn't for everyone so please read the CW before you read!!!

“Perverted”, “Scandalous”, “Creepy”- Those were the words that I would have used to describe myself at this moment.

The night had started innocently enough. Y/n and I were having one of our monthly movie nights. We ordered pizza, watched a new release that we had been waiting for for months, and had some wine. Though, as it usually does with y/n, some wine turned into 2 bottles of the dark liquid. I wouldn’t have called myself drunk, but she insisted that I should not drive in that state. It wasn’t the first time I had slept over at her apartment, but this time, I wished that I had just gotten into my fucking car.

While I got ready for bed in the bathroom, y/n was preparing the couch for me since I always refused to take the bed. She still put up a fight every time, as if she didn’t do the same when she slept over at my place, and then pettishly prepared the couch. It was cute, just like every single thing about her was.

I sighed as I spit the toothpaste in the sink, thinking about how much it sucks to be in love with your best friend. Friends to Lovers…yeah, I wish. They make it look so easy on screen, but in reality, it just sucks. I contemplated telling her countless times, but the risk of losing her is too much. Even if she felt the same, relationships can end, people can fall out of love, and then you are left with nothing. I’d rather stick to yearning for the rest of my life.

When I left the bathroom, she was already waiting for me and we exchanged goodnights as we passed each other. Sleeping on the couch really didn’t sound so bad when the alternative was potentially losing her.

That didn’t mean that I didn’t lie awake thinking about what it would be like to sleep in the same bed as her and wake up next to her though. Most times I barely got any sleep, like tonight.

I tried falling asleep for 30 minutes before I gave up and turned the TV back on. I was barely able to hear the show that was running, but I hoped that concentrating on it would make me tired. It would have worked, but just as I was about to drift off to sleep, there was the faintest sound coming from y/n’s bedroom. It was so quiet that I wondered if I had just imagined it, but as I looked at the door, I saw that she didn’t close it properly, presumably by accident.

I closed my eyes again because people make noises in their sleep all the time, especially her, but a few seconds later, there was another noise. It sounded like a whimper, and this time I was sure that I had actually heard it. I contemplated what to do. Y/n had nightmares all the time, as should be expected in our line of work, but sometimes it was worse waking her up than just letting her sleep through it. Though thinking about the time when she scratched herself so hard that she woke up with blood under her fingernails, I got up anyway.

That was the first mistake I made that night.

I swear my thoughts were innocent when I went to push open the door, I just wanted to prevent her from hurting herself, so I was absolutely not prepared for the sight in front of me when the door fell open enough for me to look inside.

Y/n was lying on top of the bed, one hand in her panties and the other clutching the sheets. I froze. I know I should have just quietly closed the door and gone back to bed, but I didn’t.

That was the second mistake I made that night.

I kept my eyes on her, carefully memorizing everything I saw before me, storing it away in my endless memory. The way she arched her back while drawing slow circles over her clit, the way her shirt rose up because of that, and how the exposed skin of her legs and stomach looked in the faint moonlight that was streaming through her window.

The thing that got to me most though, was the look on her face. Her mouth was slightly agape, brows furrowed and her eyes clenched shut. It was absolutely mesmerizing, she was absolutely mesmerizing, and every detail of it was burned into my brain.

I knew how wrong it was, watching her like this in such a vulnerable moment, but I couldn’t look away. I was convinced the gods themselves were punishing me by putting such a sight in front of me and expecting me to walk away from it. It was utterly fucked up.

Another whimper left her, louder this time and she bit her lip, trying to keep herself quiet. God, she was trying not to wake me up but here I was, standing at her door and watching her.

Her underwear was pink, and even though it was almost dark in her room, I could still see the wet spot on it. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my body as my hand made its way to the bulge that was growing in my pajama pants, the pants she got me for my birthday. I remembered the look on her face as I unwrapped the fish print fabric, eyes full of excitement and the innocence that was always on her face. Well, most of the time anyway, because right now, there was no innocence in sight.

I was a sick man.

Her hand picked up the pace and I could hear the wet sounds it made. She sighed and threw her head back the same moment that my own hand found its way into my pants, thumb brushing over the precum-covered tip of my cock. I swallowed the groan that threatened to leave my throat when her other hand wandered to her breast, squeezing it, while I was stroking myself as fast as I could without making any sound.

It was then that I noticed the thing that would forever exile me from heaven and condemn me to a life in hell because while she lay there pleasuring herself, she was wearing my shirt, the shirt I had worn yesterday night in the cheap hotel room we were sharing. I had searched the whole room for it this morning, she helped me look.

I had to bite my lip to prevent a moan from escaping. Not only did she steal my shirt, but she also lied to me and was now wearing it while she fucked herself. The thought of my sweet and innocent best friend doing such a filthy thing almost pushed me over the edge, but like the sick masochistic pervert that I was, I gripped the base of my cock to keep me from cumming so soon. I wanted to watch her fall apart first, knowing if my orgasm finished washing over me first I would feel so guilty and sick I’d probably run to the bathroom to throw up and miss the best part.

The faster her hand moved and the closer she got, the more her sounds increased in volume. It’s fascinating how being aroused shifts your perception of the world around you because I would bet that she didn’t realize how loud she was getting. It didn’t matter anyways because the person she tried to keep quiet for was standing in the dark watching her.

When a whine escaped her, and her thighs started trembling, I knew she was close, so I started to increase my pace. I wanted to come with her, watch her fall apart and use it to reach my own climax.

My hand moved frantically around my cock and when her face scrunched up in pleasure and her thighs closed around her hand, I imagined how they would feel clenching around me. It was that thought that finally pushed me over the edge and made me spill my cum into my underwear. I bit down on my tongue hard and continued stroking myself while coming down, the same way she did.

When her hand stilled and she huffed out a breath, I knew I had to move fast. As quietly as I could I closed the door the same way it was before I had entered earlier and rushed to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and decided that I preferred to sleep in cum covered underwear instead of no underwear at all.

I caught my breath and tried not to think about what I had just done, but when I opened the door to go back to bed, y/n stood in front of me.

“Hi”, she almost squeaked when she saw me. Looking at her face, warm and splotchy from her orgasm, I felt myself getting hard again. I cleared my throat.

“Hi yourself”, I replied, acting like the last 10 minutes didn’t actually happen.

“You’re still awake”, she said and I saw realization wash over her face. To go to the bathroom, you had to walk by her room, and she must have noticed that her door wasn’t closed when she got up. She stood in front of me frozen and I hate to admit how much the sight turned me on. She thought I heard her. God if she knew.

I tried to be a good person, to be a gentleman, and let it go. Let her go to the bathroom to clean herself up and never talk about it again, but I just couldn’t.

“Yeah, I, uh, I couldn’t sleep”, I started and tilted my head to fake a concerned look,” By the way, are you okay? I heard some noise coming from your room. Did you have a nightmare again?” I was a sick perverted man, but the horror that washed over her face at my words almost made me take her right there against the wall.

“Uh yes. Yes, I did, but I’m fine! I’m awake, the nightmare is over. I really need to pee though so… goodnight Spence. Sleep well.” And with that, she started to move around me. I could have just let her go but it was too easy, the opportunity too great not to take it.

“Hey, is that my shirt? I was looking for it all morning.” She almost tripped when the words left my mouth.

“Oh, this was the shirt you lost? I thought it was mine, my bad. You’ll uh, get it back washed and folded just the way you like it. Goodnight!”, y/n rushed out and quickly closed the bathroom door and locked herself inside it.

It was quiet for a moment and then I could hear the faintest “fuck” from behind the door.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hello I just wanted to ask if you can do one where Hope has a little sister is another daughter of Hylie and Klaus is named Crystal Mikaelson, she is the light of Hope's eyes and she is the key for Hope to turn on her humanity crystal age is 6 months

The Little Key

Baby female Mikaelson reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: swearing, thats all

A/n: I did change the oc name to just y/n, cause that's what I'm used to writing and the age is a bit bumped up to around almost a year old to fit better with the fic, but she's still female. I hope you like it 💗

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

Josie bounces you in her arms with one of her hands on the back of your head while you're crying your eyes out. Your sobs and crying are silent, wanting your big sister and everyone can tell you miss her even if you can't speak coherently yet.

You remember the feeling of another woman but she's been gone a long time. Now it's only Hope, your big sister, you have that same feeling with.

Josie holds you close and stands up from the couch in the living room, trying to quiet and calm you down a bit. Lizzie, Kaleb, MG, Finch, and Cleo are the only other ones in the room. They're all standing or sitting, trying to come up with a plan to get Hope's humanity back.

They hear heels clicking on the hardwood floor, "Hmm, I can help you with that. Stop trying" Hope walks into the Library with her arms crossed.

She glances at you for a moment before quickly moving her vision over to everyone else standing up now. Cleo starts a spell on her, but Hope picks up on it straight away and knocks the witch out with an easy spell. The older witch falls back onto the couch, unconscious.

"Hope, what are you doing here?" Josie asks, hiding your face under her jean jacket so you don't see any other incidents that may come.

"Do I need a reason to come back to my old school?" Hope rhetorically says.

You let out a loud whine, tears subsiding, hearing your sister's voice and wanting to go to her. You manage to escape from under Josie's jacket and make a grabby hand toward Hope while your other hand is holding onto Josie's shirt collar.

"What about your baby sister? The old you would have never been this unthoughtful" Josie exclaims, tightening her grip as hard as she can without hurting you.

Hope laughs with a scoff mixed in, she says, "This is your big plan? Saying some tiny touching thing about my sister and then insulting me? Heh, you can do better".

She started to walk over to the brunette twin. Lizzie moves quickly and stands in front of you both.

"What? You really think I'd hurt my own sister and the girl I had the smallest crush on for a measly week?" Hope chuckles at the taller girl.

She raises her hands and snaps the heretic's neck effortlessly before she could answer. After, she casts an immobilization spell on everyone except you.

Vamping over, Hope takes you into her arms and leaves the school before the spell wares off.

All of your tears immediately subside and your breathing levels out as you cling to the tribid.

She walks into the abandoned Mikaelson mansion that your guys' family used to live in for around two years. She's been staying in the house since a week after she turned her humanity off.

Hope walks up the staircase after locking the door and enters the room which she's taken, which is Klaus', or used to be anyways.

She puts you down on the bed and starts pacing back and forth. A second later you raise your hands up, wanting to be back in your sister's arms.

"What the hell is wrong with you, why'd you take her. There was absolutely no reason to, ughh. No, no way am I turning the damn thing back on. I see what your doing" Hope rambles to herself and her mind trying to get her to flip it back on, ignoring your pleas to be back in her hold.

"Hhh-o,mmhh" you whine, not being able to pronounce it.

You keep trying over and over, not being able to get it right, and Hope paying no mind to your babbling.

She can already feel her switch flittering between off and on, but she pauses as soon as she hears the word that comes out of your mouth.

"Ho...Hop... Hope" you finally pronounce correctly and yell out to your sister.

"What'd you just say?" She walks over and finally picks you up from the made bed.

"...Hope," you say again.

She closes her eyes, trying to fight off her switch, but after some time it was no use. Opening them back up slowly, she looks down at you in her grasp, holding onto a lock of her wavy auburn hair.

"Hey y/n/n, I'm sorry. I'm here now sweetie" Hope holds your tiny frame against her tightly, not wanting to let go.

You lay your head on her collarbone with a hand still in her hair, content and happy being back with your big sister.

"You said your first word" she whispers into your hair and kisses your head.

[insanermin]

hate my guts, of course you do

pairing: ex!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, drugs, toxic relationship kinda, mentions of nsfw but nothing happens v sorry guys, also forgot to mention curse words idk how warnings work, sorta proof read? :)

word count: 1,4k

summary: it's been months since you broke up, but today out of all days, your ex ellie calls you and leaves a message, asking you to come and you do come over for... closure of course.

"Shit..." Ellie groans low, her body leaned against the door frame. You can't help but notice her well defined arm and shoulder muscles, but you need to focus, this is not what you're here for.

"You called me?" You try to sound calm, collected even, but your eyes won't stop wandering. Just once you tell yourself, the other is too drunk to notice anyway.

Her green eyes and her cold gaze, you miss how her eyes softened when she laid them upon you. You miss the way it felt when she kissed you ever so slowly, knowing that it made you crazy and leaving you ache for more. For god's sake, how were you going to focus on talking to her when she has a black tank top on? You're head is starting to spin, you're still standing in front of Ellie's open door.

"Let's sit down..." You suggest, while Ellie hasn't said a single word this entire time since you arrived. The light is dimmed, liquor standing on her low table, her bed unmade.

Still, you missed Ellie's scent. She still uses that body lotion you bought her because you convinced her it would do her tattoos good.

Sweet orange and cedar wood.

After nostalgia, realisation always hits the hardest. You sit down on her bed, Ellie sits down beside you, her body sinking heavy.

Legs spread far apart, her forearms rest on top of her lap. Ellie hasn't dared to glance at you once this whole time, and 15 minutes have passed already in complete silence. She then sighs and throws her head back with her eyes, barely open, glued to the ceiling.

"Fuck this, I thought maybe callin' you up would fix things right now," she says, words slurred, but the way she expresses herself is long engraved within yourself. You look to the left, there where she sits. Inhaling sharply, you observe Ellie fiddling with her hands. This is bad.

"Ellie, I had things to take care of," the words leave your lips with a bitter taste. You just couldn't tell Ellie that she was not capable of dealing, no, not even listening to your problems and you tried so often.

"What things?" she asks, still not looking at you.

"I have a lot on my mind, I don't think..." You stop yourself. Ellie is long gone, she won't be able to comprehend this, you will just waste your energy.

It took Ellie a few seconds, but suddenly her body shifts towards you. Her eyes look for yours as they fill with something you can't recognise yet.

"No, not this again," she says under her breath. You're confused and Ellie picks it up, you didn't expect her to be this attentive.

"Things are so different now, you should see me now, you just stopped talking to me," she says, her voice full of fury and hurt.

"Fuck, you didn't even give me a chance," she mutters. A sudden wave of guilt overcame you and your narrative of what happened between the two of you starts to waver. But before you could even start questioning what you believed this whole time, you feel Ellie's presence distancing. In surprise, you look up, your eyes following her closely. You watch her approach the kitchen counter, her back facing you. She towers over the kitchen sink, her arms slightly angled. You can hear her take deep breaths as she turns around, you're no longer facing her back.

Now it's you and her, a few meters apart, face to face. Ellie is leaned back against the sink while her arms are crossed.

You've never seen her eyes this cold, this hurt before. She tilts her head slightly, observing you, her eyes scanning you up and down.

"Listen," Ellie says.

You look up, obviously shaken and when did Ellie sober up? Too many questions, too many thoughts, you're overwhelmed by this whole situation.

"Only once in this whole fucking relationship you decided to open up, okay?" Her eyes are shut closely, she seems to be in pain. And yes, she is in fact, in a lot of pain. Ellie's head started to ache a few hours ago, she didn't have any medicine left so she decided to go to sleep but couldn't after all. And to top it off, Ellie started thinking of you, what else was she supposed to do? Not drunk call her ex?

"And when you did, we both were fucking high," she continues, her voice still dangerously low. You can't move, you feel like you've been chained to the bed you are sitting on. That's when you realise, maybe, but just maybe she is right. But you don't want to believe that you're in the wrong, you hate admitting that you're wrong and unreasonable.

"Shit, and I even asked you if you left because of that night..." her words start to waver. This is when you decide that you're no longer an inanimate object, but in fact a living person. You stand up and walk up towards Ellie. Not close, but probably too close for exes. You've been silent this whole time because, and god you hate to admit this, Ellie was right. The only time you did open up was when the two of you were high and she said things you totally did not want to hear. And so you decided to tell your friends, never the whole story though and they all told you that you deserve better, you should leave.

"Don't look at me like this," Ellie says while looking down at you. You're so close to her, you can smell the alcohol mixed with her scent. The way she talks makes you weak but again, this is not the time to feel this way.

"I don't even know why I came," You finally say, barely audible.

"Because you missed me," Ellie responds, her eyes finally softening, in a way they would only for you.

"I hate you, don't do this to me, please," You say as tears fill your eyes. Why were you so impressionable? But you were so sure you're friends were right, Ellie can't handle you. Your thoughts halt for a moment as you feel Ellie's hand palms cup your face, her thumbs resting on your cheeks. You make eye contact, her eyes carefully watching you.

"How often do I need to tell you that I am there for you, I am here, never going anywhere," she whispers. When did the distance close between the two of you? You can feel her chest against yours, while the dimmed light barely illuminates Ellie's face or yours.

"You have to stop looking at me with those eyes," You say, desperately trying to stand your ground. Ellie tilts her head, you can feel her breath on your neck.

"What eyes, love?" Ellie responds, her hands gliding over the sides of your body all the way down to your waist, keeping her hands there. Her hands hold you firmly, pulling you closer by your waist.

You know you should leave now, but your body just won't move, and your heart yearns to stay.

"Don't call me love," Is all you can think of, your hands on top of hers, trying to get her away from your body.

"Give me one more chance, let me prove myself, please." Ellie says, her hands tight on your waist and her voice in a low whisper. If the sexual tension wasn't so high you'd probably say no you tell yourself, your relationship won't be much more than mindless sex so it's okay, you won't get too attached.

"Sure, prove yourself then," You say half heartedly. Ellie places her hand on your lower back, the other makes its way back up to your face, cupping it again.

"I'm serious about you, just so you know," She whispers, not knowing that she just crashed your plans of never getting attached again. You look up to her, completely helpless, you will fall, and that very hard.

But the way you look at Ellie makes her melt, makes her want to protect you from this cruel world, she still couldn't understand how she let you go.

"Come here," Ellie says, you just nod in response while blinking back your tears. God, this will be hard. She puts her hand on the back of your head and lays you gently on her chest. You look to the side, out of the window, hoping that Ellie won't notice you crying. Ellie plants a kiss on your head while mumbling something along the lines 'we will be fine' into your hair.

a/n: this was inspired by 'things change' bryson tiller, took like three lines out of the song hahaha. stay tuned or smth edit: i did some proof reading also does anyone know that tiktok where ellie says 'what eyes dina?' damn i folded

[tea-stained-notes]

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader – One Last Summer

Y/N is many things: Daphne's best friend, gifted artist, new money, honorary Bridgerton – and hopelessly in love with Benedict. But when she finds herself suddenly engaged to a brutish army captain stationed in India, she is faced with the loss of everything she has grown to adore. With time running out, one last visit to Aubrey Hall will decide her fate.

Months ago I had a random phase of obsessing over Benedict Bridgerton (don't we all at some point) and dove head-first into this – then somehow took an eternity to finish it. It's angsty af, but don’t worry, there’s also plenty of Bridgerton shenanigans and tooth-rotting fluff because Benny is too adorable for this world

Warnings: angst and anxiety

Word Count: ~8400

A warm summer breeze caresses my heated skin as I finally emerge from the carriage and lay eyes on Aubrey Hall. Lush flowers and greenery adorn the inviting front and I am still taking in the sight when I notice Eloise and Penelope rounding the corner, the Bridgerton sister gesticulating in what must be one of her political rants. Behind them, Gregory and Hyacinth emerge, chasing each other and screaming in delight. My stomach swoops at the sight – how I have missed them all. “Good morning!” I call over to them, waving with an excitement I would scarcely allow myself to display anywhere else. But here, everything is different. Has always been different.

“Y/N!” They all rush over to me, enveloping me in hugs and chattering over each other. “Finally! It’s been ages!” “Daphne has been insufferable without you around!” “Come play with us!” I laugh, begging them for a moment to breathe after the journey. Daphne appears in the entryway, closely followed by Violet. I walk quickly towards my best friend, arms wide open. “Daph!” “Oh thank Goodness you have made it!” She hugs me tightly, her familiar perfume mingling with the smell of grass and sun-warmed skin. “Have you been playing croquet without me?” “Oh, has Anthony already come moaning to you about his well-deserved loss?” “I can smell it on you, along with your smugness” I say with a grin. “And your brother has grown quite even-tempered since the wedding.” “Well, unfortunately he is still the sorest loser I know.” “Which is a feat in itself amongst this competitive bunch,” Violet says with a twinkle in her eyes before taking my hands in hers and looking me up and down. “Welcome back, darling. You look thin, please do not tell me that you’re trying to fit into one of those outrageous wedding gowns that seem to be made for dolls.” I wince at the mention of my upcoming nuptials but hastily cover it up with a chuckle. “Quite the opposite, at the last fitting my seamstress was rather disgruntled that she would have to take in the waist even further. It is just a bit of a nervous stomach, with all the impending change.” “But as a young bride you should be more happy than nervous, no?” “Mama,” Daphne scolds softly, while Eloise openly rolls her eyes. “I suppose I should.” “Why not at least wait until dinner with such questions?” comes a voice from my right, “Your forwardness single-handedly erodes our renowned British reserve.” I grin at Colin before pulling him into a hug and ruffling his coiffed hair. Being a year older, I have always indulged in playing big sister with him. He sighs in feigned annoyance. “I was going to say that it’s good to see you but I am already regretting that sentiment.” “Liar,” I snicker. Violet’s glance dances between us. I believe she once suspected a blossoming romance between Colin and me, but while I love him dearly as a surrogate brother, he has never made my heart flutter. Not that I could have ever betrayed poor Penelope anyway, whose bright eyes are locked on him as always. And not that I would ever actually marry a Bridgerton. I may have dared to dream of it ten years ago, when I first met Daphne and immediately became fast friends with her despite our age difference. When her family welcomed me into their home with such fervour and warmth that I could hardly believe my luck. With my mother having died from influenza when I was little and no other siblings to grow up with, the Bridgertons became the family I could have never imagined for myself. And the idea of marrying into it one day, of making my bond with them all official, that was the greatest aspiration I could envisage. But the one brother who has always fascinated me is nowhere in sight and I try to be glad for it. “Come, let’s get you settled before the rest of the battalion descends upon you.” Daphne pulls me inside while I give a grateful smile to the servants hurrying after us with my luggage. “So where is your charming husband?” I ask as we ascend the staircase. “And little Amelia? I have been dying to see her again.” “Simon was held up by business, he will arrive in a few days. And the little one is in the gardens with her nanny. I will call for some lemonade and once you have freshened up, we shall go out to see her and catch up. You have so much to tell me.” “I last saw you two months ago and we write constantly,” I laugh. “But all the things that have happened in those two months! Your engagement first and foremost. I simply must know everything, I certainly require more detail than the few lines from your letters.” My insides squirm at her eagerness but I manage a somewhat enthusiastic nod. She comes to a stop in front of a door. “Your usual guest room is having some work done, so I had my old room prepared for you – I hope you don’t mind.” “Not at all, it will be nice, I haven’t been in there since your wedding.” “And Mama has kept it exactly the same, you know how sentimental she gets.” Daphne sounds teasing yet her smile is nothing but fond. She gives me another hug. “I am so glad you are here. I’ve missed you. We all have.” “And I have missed you.”

Once my bags and I are safely inside, I inhale deeply and take in the stillness for a moment. Arriving at any Bridgerton residence always feels like being caught in a whirlwind and as much as I love them all, it can be overwhelming at times, especially after the often stifling silence of my own home. I wander over to the window, letting my eyes trail over the gardens, alive with an abundance of colours that makes my heart sing. Until it stops abruptly. There he is. Deeply lost in his brush strokes as he recreates the wonders around him. His vest is unbuttoned, his shirt carelessly gaping open at the top, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Even from afar, Benedict Bridgerton ignites a well-known fire inside of me. Whenever I am away from him, I can almost convince myself that this age-old infatuation is nothing but a figment, a silly flight of fancy. Sometimes I can almost forget about him entirely, distract myself with my artistic pursuits, with other friends or travel. But then I notice a piece of melody flowing from my fingers that somehow reminds me of him or look down at a drawing in surprise, having unconsciously once again traced his familiar features. Still I repress it, abandon the fantasy of someone so far above my station. Someone who sees me as a family friend and nothing more. And now that I am engaged to be married I should purge my mind of him entirely, yet especially in these last few weeks I have scarcely thought of anything else, convinced that my longing could not possibly grow stronger. But the mere tangibility of him unravels me completely. I long to rush downstairs to see him and at the same time it is the one thing I fear the most. After a long moment I tear my gaze away and turn to the washing bowl. To my dismay, the cool water does little to calm my racing pulse and thoughts. Clean and unpacked I head towards the door, but halt half-way. Because as always, when I am in Daphne's room, my eyes fall on the painting of us. It is wonderfully serene, the two of us sitting on a picnic blanket in the gardens. She is engrossed in a book, but I am looking over my shoulder, smiling softly at the artist. It was Benedict of course. I remember vividly how I turned around to find him crouching with a sketchbook in his hand, capturing the scene in quick strokes. His face lit up and he winked at me before deftly outlining my expression. Later he transferred the motif onto a proper canvas, so I never got to see the original sketch. I have always wondered whether I had really looked at him like that. So openly enamoured.

I wander down the halls towards the open French doors leading into the garden when a voice pulls me from my reverie so suddenly I almost trip over my feet. “There you are.” I look up only to be met with a dazzling smile, gleaming eyes and a hint of spicy aftershave in the air. My stomach drops. “Mr. Bridgerton.” His smile falters briefly. He always insists on me calling him by his first name, yet I have never been able to. When we met he was already eighteen, a grown man at first sight. It had felt only right to address him with the same courtesy as his older brother. And even as we grew closer, as I learned of his boyish temperament, often bordering on immaturity, I never found the courage to simply call him Benedict. If only to keep up the semblance of a wall between us, a desperate attempt at shielding my heart. Not that I have ever succeeded in that endeavour. “Everyone’s been speaking of your arrival. How wonderful you have found time to join us.” “The pleasure is all mine, as always,” I reply, ignoring the pull in my chest. “Have you finished your painting?” I gesture at the art supplies in his arms. “Not quite, but I’m afraid duty calls. Some business I need to talk over with Anthony.” “Ah, I too have an enormously urgent appointment with your sister.” We share a light chuckle. “I am sure she has scheduled three hours at the least to learn all about your… plans.” The word comes out strangely forced but he catches himself quickly. “Will I see you at dinner?” “How could I ever miss one of Mrs. Brodie’s delicacies? I have had actual dreams of her rosemary chicken.” “You are not a true Bridgerton until you’ve had one of those dreams,” he says with a grin but it wavers slightly as the words sink in. He knows as well as I do that no number of dreams will ever make me a true Bridgerton. I swallow thickly before putting on a smile. “If you will excuse me, I am quite parched after the journey and Daphne has promised lemonade.” “Oh, of course, yes. Don’t let me keep you.” “Goodbye, sir.” “Until tonight, Y/N.” Something in his tone, in the way his lips curve around my name, sends shivers down my spine. With a swift curtsey I turn and practically run out into the open air.

I manage to ward off Daphne’s inquisition well enough. Yes, Captain Parker will be able to provide for me. Yes, he is handsome. Yes, my father approves of him. Luckily, we are regularly interrupted by the various Bridgerton siblings and distracted by little Amelia who is perfectly content as the centre of attention. “I am quite certain one day she will be the diamond of the season,” I declare, ruffling her hair. “Do you really think so?” Daphne is all too happy to swoon about her firstborn and I gladly steer the conversation away from my upcoming wedding. Eventually, I propose another game of croquet, having missed the previous one, and before long the dinner bell is rung. Everyone settles into the dining room and I sink into a comfortable chair, Daphne and Eloise on either side, Benedict across from me. I only notice now that we have always been seated like this during my visits and wonder if it was I who once sought out this particular arrangement. He quickly engages me in a conversation about art and music, the topics that have always connected us, and minute by minute I grow more comfortable in his presence. We fall into passionate discussions and light-hearted banter, only occasionally intercepted by the others around us. And I cannot help pondering if he has ever felt it, too. The sparkling potential between us. The mere idea of what we could have been. No matter how unrealistic, as long we were both unwed, a tiny part of my heart remained reserved for that hope. And every time I arrived at the manor to find him seemingly carefree about the future and with no bride in sight, I was flooded with relief, simultaneously blessed and cursed to hope for a little longer. Until a few weeks ago when those dreams were finally shattered. “So, are you looking forward to India?” Colin suddenly asks. “I would love to visit you there sometime, it must be incredible.” “Surely it would not be proper to interrupt their honeymoon,” Benedict says, somewhat strained. “Oh, it’s not for our honeymoon,” I reply. “My… Captain Parker will be permanently stationed there.” Benedict’s fork clatters onto the plate and we all flinch, the chatter around the table coming to a halt. “You will move to India?” He has gone frighteningly pale. “Yes. Has Daphne not told you?” “I must have,” she sputters, “when I was last in Lon–“ “No, you haven’t.” His words come out unusually harsh and my stomach twists. Everyone is staring at either him or me and Daphne’s eyes flicker between us before she forces a casual smile. “Brother, don’t be silly, I am certain I have. And either way, I shall be the one to miss her the most, no?” She puts an arm around me while giving a pointed look at Kate who quickly collects herself and pulls Anthony and Violet into a chat about their plans for the nursery. Slowly, the usual bustle recommences and I turn back to Colin. “Once we are settled in, you are more than welcome to visit. You all are, of course.” Benedict’s lips are pressed tightly together, his food forgotten.

I find little sleep that night, the image of Benedict imprinted on my mind. He seemed so genuinely upset. I expected him to miss me, of course, but the hint of melancholy I had detected in his features even before the revelation of my upcoming departure to India now haunts me. Losing him was always going to be torture but realising how it might affect him as well has doubled the pain and I start to regret this indulgence of coming to Aubrey Hall for one last summer. When the first sun rays filter through the half-opened curtains I inhale deeply, trying to infuse a little hope and joy into the beginning of this new day. And when Daphne surprises me with the idea of a relaxed breakfast in bed I almost believe it has worked. A while later we find ourselves in the parlour, Eloise engrossed in a book after Penelope’s earlier departure, Daphne rocking a fussy Amelia to sleep in her arms, and I sketching absently. I startle when Benedict walks in, slightly more dishevelled than usual. “Daph, Y/N. Just the pair I’ve been looking for.” “Good morning to you as well, dear brother,” Eloise says with a smirk. He bows excessively in her direction and I cannot help but smile at their antics. “Good morning, my darling sister.” They share a grin before he turns back to us. “I wanted to apologise for my little outburst at dinner. I was tired and the news took me by surprise.” He clears his throat. “I do hope you forgive me.” “Of course, sir,” I hasten to reply. “One could have almost suspected you of being jealous of a certain Captain Parker.” “Eloise!” Daphne chides but she too eyes her brother and me curiously. Before I can try to decipher either my feelings or his expression, Violet walks in, rubbing her hands enthusiastically. “Good morning, children! Who of you will kindly join us for a walk?” Daphne rises as Amelia starts crying once more and Violet immediately offers to take her. While they deliberate on the benefits of a walk for the baby, Benedict settles beside me, merely a few feet between us. I try to ignore the goosebumps forming on my skin at his soft smile. “May I?” He points at my sketchbook. I press it shut with hurried force. “No.” “Oh.” His face falls a little. “Forgive me, I did not mean to pry.” There is dejection in his eyes, but also confusion. I have always shared my sketches with him, just as my compositions, needlework and poetry. We have always valued each other’s opinions and advice. So naturally he is taken aback by my sudden reservedness. But how can I explain the shift from peaceful, colourful motifs to the utter gloom that has been dominating my sketches lately? The impending thunderstorms, the dark forests. And possibly worse, the countless drawings of him. Sometimes just his fingers, delicately holding a paintbrush, sometimes his entire silhouette, but mostly his boyishly handsome face that my eyes unerringly find the second I enter a room. If it scares me how much of my waking thought he is taking up – how much would it scare him? “I– I’m sorry, sir. I have not been feeling very… confident about my work lately.” “I can hardly believe that to be justified in any way. You have always possessed a raw talent I can scarcely dream of.” “That is not true.” “Well then, I challenge you.” Mischief sparkles in his eyes and an inadvertent giggle escapes me. “You mean it? We have not done that in ages.” “All the more reason to do it now.” “Y/N, are you coming?” Daphne calls across the room. “She is otherwise engaged,” Benedict grins before I can reply. “Is that so?” “Your brother has thrown down the gauntlet and I’m afraid I shall have to pick it up.” Daphne rolls her eyes, amusement playing on her lips. “Are you having one of your silly art competitions again? What is it this time?” “Portraits,” I say hastily. “We will paint each other. Fifteen minutes, as usual.” I wonder what possessed me to choose Benedict’s face as the subject, of all things. Most likely pure masochism. I do not dare gauge his reaction although I can feel his eyes on me. “Well, Amelia needs her walk now.” Daphne glances at the crying baby in Violet’s arms. “I suppose we shall see you both later. I’ll be happy to choose a winner then.” “You’re hardly impartial,” Benedict grumbles. “Neither are you when it comes to Y/N,” she retorts. Before I can begin to untangle her accusation she has breezed out the door.

Eloise is as bad a chaperone as ever, engrossed in her book a few yards away in the shade, while Benedict sets up his canvas beside me. Mine is leaning up against my chair. Despite my excessive practice I was not quite able to capture his essence. Perhaps because it felt so strikingly different from the other times he sat for me. I had asked him not to speak, as to not strain my jittery nerves even further, and he had obliged, albeit reluctantly. But with every passing second the silence between us grew heavier, along with his expression. It weighed down my piece of charcoal, making it impossible to find my usual ease in sketching. Just when I feared it might crumble between my tense fingers, Benedict murmured, “Time’s up” with a glance at his pocket watch. Before he could peek at the result I hurriedly asked for a lunch break which we spent with an unusually talkative Anthony. Now we have returned to our previous spot and he sets up his own work. “May I ask,” he says after the first few strokes, “why the quick engagement? Did you know immediately that he was the right man for you?” His jaw clenches while he firmly stares at the canvas. My hands grow clammy, clutching his watch tightly. “I could hardly afford such luxuries anymore. At four-and-twenty my chances of finding the ‘right’ man have been dwindling about as fast as my father’s faith in me receiving a proposal at all.” “You make yourself sound like an old spinster.” “Well, in the eyes of the ton I am. I should consider myself lucky to be engaged at last.” “But you don’t?” His eyes search mine intently until I drop my gaze, scared of what he might find in it. “Of course. Very lucky indeed.” Once more a long silence hangs between us. I suddenly feel impossibly tired. And as much as I want to blame the summer heat and sleepless nights, I know this weariness runs much deeper. The exhaustion of holding up the pretence that I am even remotely content with my lot. “Look at me, please,” Benedict murmurs and I follow his request without hesitation, taken aback by the deep concern in his features. He thanks me softly before resuming his quiet work. “Will you not be terribly lonely in India?” he finally asks. I bite my lip. “Not for long, I hope.” What I cannot say is that I am almost glad to go. To miss them all from so far away they will hardly feel real. To not see them fall in love and lead lives I will barely be a part of. To not sit and watch Benedict await his bride at the altar, breaking inside because it should be me walking down that aisle towards him. To not look at the children who have his wild hair and lopsided grin and not find a single trace of me in their faces. I blink away tears, desperate to change the subject before he manages to poke even more holes into my façade. “And what of your plans for the future, sir? Anything exciting on the horizon?” He pauses for a moment, seemingly debating whether to indulge me. “You will think me foolish, but lately I've been thinking about opening my own academy one day. One where your wealth and sex do not matter, where you are accepted on merit and passion alone. And perhaps when you are a personal friend of the owner.” He winks at me and I stare at him in feigned indignation. “Are you saying my merit and passion would not suffice?” “Not at all. If anything, you possess too much of both, so I would have to keep you in a private class as to not discourage the other students.” I glance down at my lap, hiding both my smile and the blush forming on my cheeks. “Well, I think, it sounds anything but foolish. You could grant opportunities to so many people who will never find them anywhere else. Promise you will write to me when that dream becomes a reality.” I look back up at him, surprised at the soft wonder in his eyes, then let mine travel down to his lips as they curve into a half-smirk. “When, not if? You flatter me.” “I believe in you. I always have. And I dearly hope that one of us will be allowed to live his dream.” Benedict swallows, all traces of mirth erased from his features. “Y/N, you–” “Time’s up,” I say, without a single glance at the watch. He bites his tongue while an entire palette of emotions flits across his face. “Here you are!” We both startle when Daphne appears beside me, placing her hands on my shoulders with a wide grin. “Brother, stop capitalising on my dear friend's time. She is my guest after all.” “And here I thought she liked to spend time with all of us,” Eloise comments and I suddenly wonder how much of our previous conversation she has eavesdropped on while appearing lost in her reading. The other Bridgertons trail behind Daphne, evidently tired from their stroll in the sun. Colin immediately snorts as he peeks at the canvas. “You cannot be painting Y/N again. Do you not have an entire portrait gallery of her already?” “Well, none of you little gremlins ever hold still for even a minute.” “I've sat for you plenty of times,” Daphne protests. “Yes, and you look like you'd rather hang every single time.” “Benedict!” Violet scolds gently. “Well, let’s see them then. You do need a few judges after all.” Despite my weak protests, both sketches are propped up beside each other a few moments later. The Bridgertons remain unusually quiet. “They are both fine works,” Violet says eventually. “But you two seem so…” “Gloomy,” Kate finishes. Everyone nods. “Did Eloise bore you with an excerpt from her book while you were drawing?” Colin quips and ducks as said book comes flying at his head. Within seconds the family is caught in familiar chaos and I let myself be dragged off to another lunch despite feeling so queasy I might never eat again. When I glance back at Benedict he only manages the barest of smiles.

The week and a half of my stay at Aubrey Hall passes in a turmoil of emotions. As much as I love spending time with the Bridgertons and try to fully revel in their company, it unnerves me. Feeling their observant eyes on me, the underlying tension in the air, I have been growing more short-tempered and nervous, increasingly avoiding the presence of the people I love the most to escape their questions, both voiced and unspoken. The portrait of Benedict lies buried in his studio. I could not bear having his charcoal eyes stare at me with the same apprehension as his soft green ones. Being around him has lost all the ease we used to share despite my infatuation. I am glad when Simon joins us, creating a distraction for Daphne and thus some room for myself. But no amount of wandering the familiar halls and gardens, hiding away in the library or furiously filling page after page of my sketchbook can calm my racing mind. Anxiety has nestled deep inside my chest, constricting my lungs and churning in my stomach. And then it arrives: My last day at the manor. They surprise me with a picnic under clear blue skies and despite my incessant sorrow it turns out rather lovely. Before long, the little ones are running around and I find myself pulled in all directions, playing and frolicking in the sun. The adults disperse as well, picking up games or strolling through the gardens in deep conversation. Eventually, I sink down onto a blanket next to Daphne and Amelia, out of breath and surprisingly cheerful. My friend looks over at me, a wistful expression on her face. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your time with us,” she says softly. “Of course,” I reply automatically. “I always do.” I let my eyes wander over the scenes around us and the despite the joy in the air, panic and despair once more rise in my throat. Cotton fills my ears, then my entire skin starts to tingle. And suddenly it comes crashing down on me. The intense finality of these last few days with the Bridgertons. The very real possibility that I might never return to Aubrey Hall, never again chatter with Daphne, joke with Colin, debate with Eloise. Never chase the younger siblings across the rolling greens or laugh at a seething Anthony after an eventful croquet match. Never have a single moment alone with Benedict. I have been a fool for believing that distance would make me miss them all any less. Because at this moment I am certain that I will be longing for these days for the rest of my life. Still, the sob that rips from my mouth takes me by surprise. “Y/N?” Daphne turns to me, little Amelia on her lap eyeing me warily. I want to reassure her but instead tears start flowing uncontrollably. “Oh my dear!” Daphne sets her daughter down on the blanket, then throws her arms around me. “Y/N, whatever is the matter?” I cannot find my voice for several minutes, overwhelmed by the most intense sorrow I have felt since my mother's passing. When I finally speak, the words come out raspy and broken. “I am going to miss you all so much.” “Well, how awful would it be if you didn't?” Daphne says, a half-smile on her lips but it fades as she inspects my face. “Is it more than that? Are you truly not looking forward to marriage at all? I know it can be daunting, Simon and I have had a rocky path as well, but now I cannot imagine a life without him.” “Because you love him!” The words come out rougher than intended and Amelia winces, her mouth curling into a frown. I quickly cradle her in my arms before she can start crying as well. Nuzzling her soft hair I avoid Daphne’s eyes. “You've always loved him, Daph. Even when you could not yet admit it to yourself, even when you did not know that he returned your feelings.” A tense pause stretches between us. “Do you truly believe you will never love Captain Parker?” she finally whispers. I bite my lip, unable to answer. “Y/N, why on earth did you accept his proposal if you cannot see a happy life with him?” I want to scream at her, want to rage at her naiveté, her inability to grasp the gravity of my situation. But I cannot. Not at my best friend who does not know and can never know how this engagement came about. “If you do not want this, I can help you,” she says softly now. “We will find a perfect match for you next season. Who knows, maybe even somewhere along the way until then?” Daphne attempts another soft smile and my tears start flowing again. If only it were this simple. She reaches for my hand while I am pressing Amelia closer with the other, relishing in her warmth and quiet babbling. “It pains me to see you like this. There must be something I can do. I realise that Anthony and I have been very lucky to have found our partners, but if it is not love that persuades you to marry, it should at least be mutual respect and fondness. I am certain we can find such a man for you, if only–” “No,” I say determinedly. “I am grateful to you, Daph, but it is too late.” “Too late because you're afraid to break off the engagement or because your heart is already taken?” I gasp. “Daphne–” “Is it someone I know?” “No, it's no one. There is no one.” I press a kiss to Amelia's head, then place her in her mother's arms. Wiping my face, I rise to my feet. “I am sorry for my outburst. Do forgive me. I just need a moment to myself.” “Y/N–” “Thank you for the picnic.” Brushing away fresh tears I flee the picture-perfect scene that now only breaks my heart.

Hours later everyone is bustling about in the parlour, impatiently awaiting dinner. I have claimed the piano in the corner and let my fingers wander over the keys, following a soft, melancholy tune. My gaze loses focus in the middle distance as I calculate the number of hours I have left here. There is no clock in the room and yet I can hear an unrelenting ticking. “Is that your latest composition?” I flinch before my eyes find Benedict's, his lacking their usual sparkle. “I– I am not certain...” I clear my throat and Daphne briefly glances over at me, worry in her features. “I'm still working on it.” “It's beautiful.” “You do not sound quite convinced,” I say with a weak attempt at a smile. “No, I mean it. Every piece you compose is beautiful. It's just... It sounds so deeply sad.” I suddenly sense how the atmosphere in the room has changed. Even the little ones have gone quiet, with everyone stealing looks of concern at me. “I am so sorry, I did not mean to ruin the mood. Please carry on.” I chuckle nervously and the Bridgertons are kind enough to return to their antics, albeit slightly forced. “Y/N, are you alright?” Benedict's voice is low but strained. I turn back to the keys, once more biting back tears. “Of course, sir. I am perfectly fine.” “You do not seem like yourself,” he murmurs. “You are usually.... softer. But also stronger. With such a zest for life. I've never seen you like this, so burdened, so sombre.” I raise my chin, attempting to look challenging rather than heartbroken at his astute observation. “And what about you, Mr. Bridgerton? These past few days you have hardly been the carefree man I've come to know.“ “Then you must know that you are the cause.” We both still. Blood is rushing in my ears as I try to steel myself for something I fear and crave in equal measure. But after a long moment he shakes his head, swallowing heavily. “I worry about you, Y/N. We all do. I know things have not always been easy for you but until now I believed our family could provide you with comfort. And if that is somehow no longer the case, surely the prospect of starting your own family should excite you.” I hopelessly rifle through my mind for an answer that might assuage him once and for all. “Dinner is ready, my lady.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Wonderful!” Violet smiles at the servant who has appeared in the doorway, then claps her hands. Her offspring rises from floor and sofas, muttering about being starved while jostling towards the dining room. I stand up so quickly the piano stool topples over and I reach for it at the same time as Benedict. Our hands briefly touch in mid-air, sending a spark through mine before I can pull away. He stares at me, the ticking even louder than before. “Y/N, you must know that you can confide in me.” “There is nothing to confide, sir.” “Benedict.” My face runs hot at both the insistence on his first name and the multitude of my confessions boiling so close to the surface. His features soften as he subconsciously draws closer and I scramble to my feet, heart pounding wildly. “We should go, everyone is waiting.” Before he can reply I rush out of the parlour, pressing clammy hands to my cheeks to soothe the fire in them.

Dinner is strangely quiet and whenever I glance over at Benedict I find him already looking at me. For the millionth time this week I wonder if I should not have discredited his motives so quickly, should not have dismissed his attempts at forming a tighter bond between us for the fear of falling too far. Is it possible I might have misread him all these years? Too blind in my self-deprecation, too caught up in worries about money and class when he never seemed to care much for these things, when perhaps he could have easily seen beyond them? Should I have rather flown too close to the sun than never have flown at all? When the children have gone to bed I linger with the others, barely engaging in the conversation over drinks but unwilling to embark on the hours of anxious brooding in the dark ahead of me. Eventually, the yawns become more frequent and one by one the Bridgertons retire until at last Daphne and I make our way upstairs as well. I halt as we pass the library. “I’m not quite tired enough for bed. I am going to peruse the books for a while.” Daphne turns to me, deeply mournful. “Y/N, I so wish you would tell me what is going on.” I feel my bottom lip begin to quiver and shake my head vehemently. “I can’t.” “Why ever not? Are we not confidants? I have always told you everything.” “And I am so grateful for your trust and friendship.” I envelop her in a tight hug. “I will be alright. Do not worry about me.” “How can I not worry when my best friend is so clearly unhappy?” She draws back to examine me once more. “I have had my happiness. With you, with your family. That shall be enough. Not everyone finds a happy ending.” “But you so deserve it,” she says, grasping my hand. “Both you and–“ She stops herself abruptly. “Who?” “Never mind.” I want to ask again but nod instead. She seizes a candleholder from a side table and lights it with the flame of her own. “Take this. And don’t stay up too late. We will speak again in the morning.” “Goodnight, Daph.” I slip into the dark library and carefully close the door behind me. After a few deep breaths I walk around the room, lighting more candles, until I am startled by a soft knock. With a sigh I move to open the door. “Daphne, please, can we–“ The words die in my throat. Benedict stands before me, carrying a grave expression. “I need to speak with you.” “Sir, you have to leave,” I splutter. “What if someone sees us? Daphne might still be nearby.” “She was the one to tell me where to find you.” “What, why?” “Because she knows.” “Knows what?” A long pause. Then he carefully pushes past me and presses the door shut. I can do nothing but stare at him in disbelief. “Sir, you–“ “Are you fond of your...”, he clears his throat, “your fiancé?” “Excuse me?” “It's a simple question.” My chest tightens as panic once again seeps into my veins. “I am hoping I can learn to be.” His eyes burn into mine, brimming with concern. “Y/N, are you scared of him?” “Sir–“ “Benedict, please. Please.” “No. I– I'm sorry, I...” I am so tired of crying, so I bury my nails painfully into my palms to hold back the tears. Still, I am shaking before him. He slightly raises his arms, as if wanting to pull me into a hug, and I wish more than anything I could let him without risking to fall apart entirely. “You must break off the engagement.” “I can't.” “Y/N, you're terrified. That is not a life you're entering, it is torture. And it’s killing us to know that you are hurting, that you might not be safe – it’s killing me. Is he choleric? I swear, if he ever laid a hand on you, I–“ “He already has.” “What?” “At the midsummer ball. He seized me in the gardens and touched me... Kissed me. Lady Clementine saw us and reported to my father. Father claimed that we were engaged and thus we were.” Benedict has turned to the nearest bookshelf, lips in a tight line, knuckles white from grasping the wooden board like a vice. He is trembling and my stomach sinks even further. “Did you explain the situation to your father?” he presses through gritted teeth, eyes boring into the volumes before him. “Of course. But he is deathly afraid of scandal. Our standing in the ton is on such thin ice as is.” “That's not true.” “Yes, it is.” Frustration starts boiling within me, one that I have been harbouring since I first set foot into their manor on Grosvenor Square ten years ago. All this splendour, so nonchalantly taken for granted by the entire family. All those visitors so obviously enchanted by the grand Bridgertons, never questioning their rightful place in this world. “You have no idea what it's like. Your father wasn't just barely rich enough to gain some footing in the ton but not to provide you with an appealing dowry. You have never been an only child, never had to be scared that your family's legacy might crumble if you ever step out of line for even a second, even when it's not your fault!” I am vibrating with restrained anger but quickly run out of steam when his face falls along with his shoulders. “You're right,” he whispers. “Please forgive me.” “I have to apologise as well. You have been born with an array of privileges from your sex to your wealth but I know that you do not flaunt them. However, my options aren't as wonderfully unlimited.” I swallow thickly. “So you see, I cannot end this engagement. My already slim chances would be ruined, who else would make me an offer after this?” “I would.” His reply is immediate, certain, and it crashes into me without warning. My mouth is dry, every nerve in my body alight. “That is incredibly kind, but I could never accept.” My voice nearly fails me. “You deserve a grand life, Benedict.” His eyes widen at the name finally spilling from my lips where I have kept it hidden for so long. “You will be a renowned artist, a gift for society in so many ways. And you deserve a woman you adore by your side, one who will never leave a stain on your good name.” “I have already found her.” His words hit me unexpectedly at first, an instant stab of jealousy in my chest. Then a lump forms in my throat as realisation sets in. A realisation I have never allowed and am not ready for still. “But I cannot seem to make her see that she has held my heart for an entire decade. That her smile and wit and artistic endeavours captivate me more and more with every passing year. That I could have lived with her romantic disinterest in me, had she found someone whose soul matches the beauty of hers.” “Benedict...” “That my name from her lips is the sweetest sound in the world.” “Please stop.” He pauses briefly. “Are you scared of me as well?” “Yes,” I blurt out, “I have been scared of you since the moment we met because you make me forget myself. You make me forget that you are entirely out of reach, that no matter how much I love you, I–“ My hand flies to my mouth, heart slamming into my ribcage. I stumble backwards while muttering senseless apologies. Benedict is stunned into silence. It feels like years pass between us. When he finally speaks, his words are hoarse and quavering. “You... You love me? All these years every advance of mine seemed futile because you thought–“ “Please forget everything I have said. Promise me you will.” “Forget? Forget the most wonderful words I have heard in my life?” “Benedict, I’m begging you…” I give into the tears at last. Whether they are born of desperation, frustration or simple pain, I can no longer tell. He walks towards me, a barely-contained storm on his face. “I refuse to live in a world where I do not hear you say my name every single day. Where I see you but once a year, your light slowly dimming in a loveless marriage. Carrying the children of that... bastard.” Now he is crying, too. “Please do not do that to yourself. Do not submit yourself to such misery. Whether you choose me or not, I will support you. I will do whatever I can to give you a good life. The life of an artist if you want it. That I can promise you. You will always have me.” He sinks down on both knees, his fingers carefully closing around mine. “And if you do choose me... I will do the same and more. I will give you everything I've held in for so long. My love for you will never falter.” I am frantically searching for reasons to deny him because none of this could ever be real, his skin on mine, his unbelievable offer in the air. My mind is reeling, trying and failing to catch up with everything that has transpired these past few moments. Years of dreams and longing, so briskly swept aside to reveal a glimpse at a reality that must be impossible because it always has been. “What would your family say?” I say shakily. “What would everyone say?” His hold on me tightens. “You know my family adores you and would accept you with open arms, no matter the circumstances. And I could not care less about anyone else. The gossip would die, it always does. Lady Whistledown would surely distract them with something else within a week.” A rivulet of hope trickles across my heart. “Could this... could this truly be?” “Tomorrow you will meet him in the city. All you have to do is talk to him one last time. I will be there if you want me to. Heavens, the entire Bridgerton clan will be there if you want us to.” We both chuckle through the tears. “You are not alone in this, Y/N.” I let his words sink in for a long moment. “And what if I choose you?” “Then we can go into town right after to pick out a ring and speak to the vicar.” His thumbs caress my knuckles reverently. “Will you? Will you do me the incredible honour of accepting my hand?” My knees buckle and I lower myself onto the floor before him. The blazing anxiety I have grown almost accustomed to has faded into glowing embers. After having wandered through hell for weeks, I find peace in his hopeful gaze, comfort in the soft contours I am so intimately acquainted with. A kaleidoscope of memories flashes before my eyes, all tinted in new colours. It has always been there, right in front of me: He loves me. And all I have ever had to do was say yes. “The honour would be all mine, Benedict Bridgerton.” A strangled noise escapes him before his eyes frantically scan my face as if they might find a single trace of doubt there. They could never. Not anymore. His hands come up, hovering beside my cheeks. “God, I really want to– Is it alright if I–“ “Yes!” He grins, breathless and blushing. “I haven't even–“ I lunge forward and press my lips to his. It is clumsy and overwhelming but also everything I have ever wanted. He almost tumbles over in surprise, but seconds later we are completely entangled, seeking each other's mouth over and over. Heart pounding, skin aflame, I am certain this is the happiest I have ever been. Because while my body nearly gives out with the strange exhilaration of it all, I also feel perfectly safe. As if this is exactly where I belong, where everything finally makes sense. In between kisses he whispers my name like a confession of love. It is from his lips. When we finally part for air we stare at each other with endless wonder, then start smiling deliriously. I reach out to cradle his face in my palm and he leans into it with a sigh. “Ben,” I murmur, the name unfamiliar but sweet in my mouth. He beams at me. “Come here, darling.” Without hesitation I let him pull me into his lap, just as desperate to be close. I no longer care if anyone finds us like this, am no longer terrified of scandal. Not when I know for certain that I will marry the love of my life, unfazed by gossip and propriety. I nestle into the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent, revelling in the warmth and solidness of his chest. His arms encircle me as I feel his heartbeat slow. Knowing it was I who made it race in the first place fills me with a fervent glow. “Do you have the slightest idea how incredible you are?” I say quietly as I lean back a little to look at him. “I cannot believe you would have provided for me if my father had turned me away.” “Without hesitation. You're everything to me, Y/N.” “What would your future wife have said?” “I cannot imagine there ever would have been a wife.” My eyes widen. “Oh Benedict…” “Never mind that.” He gives me a half-smile. “I would have had my family. And hopefully you in some way still.” My heart aches for the unhappy people we would have almost become and I pull him in for another kiss, assuring him and myself that will never be us. Then I am hit with one more realisation. “Wait, when you said that Daphne ‘knows’, did you mean...?“ “About my utter adoration for you? Sweetheart, they all know. Always have. You were the only one who never seemed to see.” “But no one ever–“ “I made sure they wouldn’t bring it up. Although you can imagine how excruciating it was for them.” “But why? Maybe one of them could have pulled me out of my head for once.” He gently caresses my face. “I wanted you to find your own way. Whether it would lead to me or not.” My heart swells with love as I lean my forehead against his. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For waiting. For saving me from myself. For everything.” “You have always been worth it.” We once again lose ourselves in a long kiss and I wonder how I would have made it through life without even a fraction of this bliss. Eventually, Benedict draws back, pure warmth in his eyes. “As much as I would like to stay here forever, I’m afraid we have to leave. Daphne may or may not still be standing guard outside.” I raise a hand to my mouth, trying in vain to suppress the giggle spilling out. He grins widely, then releases me and lets me pull him to his feet. “She is truly the best friend one could ask for.” “Oh, make no mistake, she will use this against us for the rest of our lives.” I smile up at him. “And I will cherish every second of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

MASTERLIST

[nonstoplover]

flashes of silver ~ lewis hamilton (lh44)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: with the annual fia gala coming up, lewis decides to do something as a kind of thank you to his hard-working team, and invites one of the girls working for mercedes as his plus one.

words: 3.4K

warnings: cheesy fluffy stuff; a possible age gap if you squint your eyes but nothing actually mentioned; probably not accurately written shop scene (if you can't tell, i've never been in any fancy shop lol)

a/n: i had a dream. one simple dream that pulled me out of the past few months' writer's block. it was a bit of a struggle though to kinda get back into writing rhythm but whatever. i needed to get this out of my system before i go mad. first lh44 fic also!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

"I don't have any dress that's good enough for a gala," she shakes her head ferociously, her eyes not leaving the man standing before her. She still can't fight the small voice in her head telling her that it's just a joke. A prank, probably for the team's social media pages. Why else would he approach her with something so ridiculous?

Under her curious, cautious gaze, Lewis just reaches into his pocket, and without breaking eye contact for a single second, pulls his card out and places it on the desk in front of her. "Go buy yourself something then. You deserve it anyway."

All words leave her mind, it's like her vocabulary has been completely erased. The only thing she can do is allow her eyes to widen in sync with her lips, as she tries to comprehend what she's just heard.

"Come on, take it," he encourages with a small smile.

When she still doesn't move an inch, the man playfully sighs, extending his arm to grab the card once more. With his other hand, he reaches even further, under the desktop to take hold of her hand resting on her lap. A gentle but still dynamic movement later he's pried her fingers open and placed the card in her palm. His own fingers stay there, flesh to flesh, for a second longer, before closing her fist around the plastic and retreating his touch.

As the air-conditioned, cool air hits the back of her hand again, (y/n) wakes from her trance. Her eyes flash up and down a couple times, from the driver to the card and back again. "I can't spend your money. I won't spend your money."

"I have more than enough, it's okay."

"That doesn't change what I said."

"(y/n), please. I already told the entire media team that I'm taking you. I told even Toto." Lewis presses his hands against the wooden surface and leans against it for support as he continues to stand at her desk.

The way he keeps on insisting this for the past five minutes makes her start to wonder that maybe, just maybe, he actually means it, and this is not a joke.

 "Why?"

He can still hear the disbelief in her voice, and has to control himself not to roll his eyes as he giggles. "I already told you like twice since I came here."

"But it doesn't make sense. I mean, I get it, you wanna give something back to the team for their hard work or whatever, but why don't you take literally anyone else than me?"

"You're next in line," he shrugs.

Why do his eyes always have to be so kind and so lovely and so heartwarming and so–, she stops herself before she spirals down that rabbit hole again.

"You've been working here for years, having my back all the time, and so I figured it would be a nice thank you, from me to you."

"You know, an actual thank you would be sufficient," she smiles lightly up at him after a second of silent ponder – the first crack in her indevout façade, and the first tiny wave of relief in his body.

"Okay, you know what?" Lewis pauses, waiting until her eyes flash with pure curiosity, all caution forgotten. "We're going dress shopping together. Right now."

(y/n) lets out a chuckle that comes to an abrupt stop when she sees him hold his hand out, palm up and open, obviously waiting. For her. He means it.

"I'm working," her mind says the first response it can come up with – earning an imaginary slap when she actually realises what she's just said.

(y/f/n) would kill me if she heard this, she thinks with certain memories of her avid LH44 fan best friend appearing in her mind. Who in her right mind would find an excuse to say no to an offer like this from Lewis Hamilton himself?

"I'm sure your boss will understand if you tell him who you were with and why," he chuckles, the sound making the tips of her fingers tingle and her heart flutter.

"Oh, right," (y/n) lets out a laugh, cheeks turning red in slight embarrassment as her eyes flicker down to the keyboard sitting in front of her. Her boss, Toto Wolff definitely wouldn't mind if he already agreed to this crazy plan previously.

"So, you coming?" Lewis wiggles his fingers, gathering the girl's attention. She slowly raises her head, mentally preparing herself for what she's about to do, then as if the world has abruptly changed to slow motion, (y/n) watches her free hand move up and a long second later arrive into his still waiting palm.

Just in time with his fingers tightening momentarily around hers, she can hear her own laughter jingle loud. Is this a dream?

"You're beautiful," Lewis greets her as the chauffeur closes the car door behind her, his smile creating wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – something she's always found absolutely adorable.

"Thanks," she mumbles in response, struggling to keep eye contact when she notices the intense look in his gaze.

"Maybe you could give me your stylist's number."

Upon hearing this, (y/n) can't help but glance at the driver sitting next to her, lips curling into a wide grin, exactly how he wanted. "I don't know, I'd have to ask him first to see if he agreed," she answers and they let out a giggle at the same time, both of them remembering that one afternoon a few days back.

"We really shouldn't go in here," (y/n) stops short on the pavement, her heels pressing down on the asphalt.

"We really should, though," Lewis grabs her hand without even glancing her way, pulling the girl behind him right into the shop.

"Lewis!" she hisses, stumbling in her steps as she rushes to keep up with his relentless pace. "One dress here costs more money than all I've ever earned."

"Then it's good that I already told you I'm paying," comes his immediate, somewhat deadpan reply.

He doesn't stop and doesn't let go of her hand, not until she's in the spacious changing room in the back of the extremely fancy dress shop, along with a mountain of colourful, unambiguously expensive materials. "I'll be out here waiting," he announces, then leaves her with the shop assistant, drawing the heavy, thick curtain closed behind him.

What feels like a million dresses later, the young woman helping her dress lets out an approving gasp, loud enough that even Lewis can hear it from the other side, as he's scrolling on social media sitting in the almost overly comfortable armchair, the sound piquing his interest. With one firm push to her shoulder, the woman twirls (y/n) around until she comes face to face with the huge mirror.

The silver silk is still rippling around her legs from the sudden movement, reflecting the light and thereby making her practically shine. It's modest, with thin straps on her shoulders and the neckline not too revealing, a monochrome, bright silver dress  – and (y/n) has to admit to herself that the material tightly hugging her torso is the most magical thing her skin has ever touched. She feels almost royal in it.

For the first time since they've arrived in the shop, she doesn't feel like a clown and all ridiculous when the curtain gets pulled back and Lewis raises his head to catch a glance at her. Her skin tingles and heart flutters as his eyes move down and then up again on her body just like they did several times in the past hour or so – but the nervous feeling finally gets replaced with something new, something exciting.

One simple, consenting inclination of the man's head in an upright motion, and time speeds up. The next couple minutes go by in a blur, and by the time she at last emerges from the changing room for the final time, now in her original clothes – that feel almost painfully too ordinary after the magnificent dress – Lewis has already arranged everything, and is simply waiting for her at the counter.

(y/n) thinks about the excitement she felt when she woke up in the morning, knowing that in a few hours, her dress will be delivered and she can feel the smooth, cool silk wrap around her body once more.

Now she allows her eyes to truly take in the man next to her, curiosity getting the best of her as she shamelessly checks him out. He refused to let her know what he's going to wear, only making her a promise that they're going to match. Now his body is wrapped in a suit, one that's seemingly made from the same silver silk that she has on, with something white peaking out from under it – but (y/n)'s just unable to look away from the suit itself, not even for a second. She can't help but think about how regal he looks, how he's so easily going to outshine anyone in the room. How the two of them are going to shine together. Silver, like the team they both work for. Like the Silver Arrows.

"Like it?" His voice breaks her out of her trance, and she blinks the thoughts away, hoping the makeup the girl Lewis was kind enough to arrange for her applied some time earlier effectively hides the flushed colour of her cheeks.

She nods. "You look amazing. As always," she adds, almost as an afterthought, eliciting the famous giggle from his lips, and thereby sending the flutters in her whole body into overdrive.

"We look amazing, love," he smiles, momentarily reaching over to squeeze her hand that's laying on top of her thigh, and she has to focus with all she has not to reveal in any way the effect him calling her that has had on her.

How on Earth did I get into this situation?, she wonders, eyes frantically searching for the familiar sight of Lewis in the crowd of people.

As soon as he's left her side, people flocked her like predacious birds. Not just some people, no. People who've been waiting to catch her alone ever since they arrived. People whose work includes creating drama with made up stories and rumours all too often. Journalists.

(y/n) sees no way out as they keep trying to make conversation with her, their questions whizzingly filling her ears and mind.

"Are you his girlfriend?"

"How long have you been dating?"

"It must be serious if he took you to a gala like this, is it?"

"How can someone like Sir Lewis Hamilton, dream of millions of women, who could have anyone he wanted, choose someone like you, plain, and really, a nobody?"

This is the question the driver hearswhen he gets back from the counter offering drinks, a glass each in his hands. His eyes widen, realising his mistake of leaving her alone even for only such a short time. He should've known better. He should've expected journalists here, who would come up with their theories, just because his plus one to this event is a woman they've never seen, at least definitely not with him before. He just assumed – mistakenly, as he can now see – that to a high prestige event like this, such vultures won't get invited.

This is the question that makes his mind cloud with anger. How could any person in their right mind say this to someone, anyone, but especially to such a gorgeous young woman that she is. Without a second thought, he pushes care out the window and behaves on instinct. With a softly spoken pardon, he pushes his way through the group of journalists, stepping up to her side. Even in his slightly foggy state of mind he can see – or more likely feel –the way her shoulder drop a little, relief obviously coursing through her veins finally as she moves just an inch closer to his body. Seeking for protection.

His arm moves next, on its own accord really, as he hands her one of the drinks he's brought, then using his now free hand to snake it around her waist, pulling her tight into his side. All this happens in one short second, and in the next one, he's turning his head to press a soft but lingering kiss on her temple.

Then, as if he's just remembered the gathering of people around them, looks away from her once more, searching non-stop with his eyes until he finds that one journalist who said the final question before his arrival, his stare turning cold and almost deadly. He can faintly hear the girl next to him stutter to get an answer out, but precede her with one simple sentence aimed mainly at that person his eyes are still trained on.

"You mean, how could someone like me get a woman so breathtaking as her, right?"

A beat passes when no one speaks, when no one seems to dare even to breathe, then he continues, his stare finally moving back to (y/n), gaze softening. "Because to be honest even I don't know, still looking for an answer."

Lewis smiles, sweet as ever, as if nothing like that death stare has just happened, before lifting the glass in his hand to take a sip. As the alcohol swirls around his tongue, a sudden thought pops in his mind, and within a second, he's reaching out, and with the backs of his fingers he touches her jaw, to make her turn her head towards him gently. Then, like nothing is more natural than this, he leans in and presses a kiss on her lips. To try and make what he's said even more believable.

The prior couple seconds have already left (y/n) completely bemused and speechless, but this one action of his tops them all. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest, and she can feel her eyes being extremely wide from the surprise she's feeling, his words being on constant replay in her ears. As her mind slowly catches up to her and realises what he's most probably playing at, she pulls herself together to play her part, not wanting to ruin the act and thereby making a fool out of him – meaning simply melting into his kiss, which is really not that hard, to be frank.

As he pulls away, Lewis gazes at her a little longer than he was necessarily supposed to, then with a simple, murmured excuse us to the journalists and with his hand leaving her waist only to intertwine their fingers, he pulls her away from the spot. He keeps on moving until he's pulled her into an empty corridor, not stopping until he makes sure they are fully alone – leaving that one journalist to stand in shame, while the others can't help but think slyly about what the reason behind his hurried exit with his girlfriend could be.

In line with his abrupt stop, he drops her hand immediately, turning towards her in one swift motion with an unexpected shy, apologising look in his eyes. Before she can gather her thoughts and say anything, his voice already rings out in-between the walls of the corridor. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable – and I truly hope I didn't – and I definitely did not just use this situation for my own gains, to get some juicy stories of me in the papers or whatever, and I will never step over these boundaries again, I just wanted to stop that bullshit that journalist has started."

Thoughts finally start to make sense in her head again, but before she can get a word out, he rambles on. "And I want you to know that what they told was completely wrong. I meant it, what I said back there, word for word. Well, except the part about me getting you since obviously we're nothing like that, but I just wanted you to know that it's the truth."

He would probably keep on talking if it wasn't for her hand gently being placed on his forearm. (y/n) smiles up at him as echos of his last, firmly stated sentence still faintly ring out. "Lewis, it's okay." The driver stops and takes a breath. "You didn't have to do it though, it's not your job to... protect me from anything, especially not from what random people say."

"I know, but I wanted to. Couldn't bear it if I knew you lived on with these words in your head about yourself," Lewis replies with a small smile finally once more gracing his face.

Her eyes break the eye contact as they move down to inspect her shoes, her cheeks suddenly feeling quite hot. "Thank you. It was very lovely of you."

When he doesn't say anything, she takes a deep breath, and with that, looks back up again only to find him wordlessly watching her. Her glance flickers to his lips, noticing some residue of her lipstick smeared around his skin there. With eyes widening, she's fast to reach up and wipe it off, mumbling under her breath something about the deep red colour.

Those heavy brown eyes of his don't leave her face, following her every movement, and the same thoughts come back to his mind that he was thinking right after that very kiss. As if she could read his mind, she continues speaking, now a little louder, braver. "Especially the kiss," she says, though with an even darker red shade colouring her cheeks. "You definitely didn't have to do that, it was believable enough without it."

Lewis thinks for a second, eyes focused on her lips for a moment longer – something that she just catches when she finishes wiping the residue off –, then his glance moves further up her face to stare into her eyes, with an abrupt seriousness and determination gleaming on his face.

"And what if I say that it wasn't a part of that whole play pretend? Not really."

Her breath catches in her throat as her mind scrambles to comprehend his words and what he could possibly imply with them. "What do you mean?" she mumbles in the end, the tips of her fingers starting to itch in their sudden shaky state.

"What if I say I wanted to kiss you in that moment?"

Lewis takes a long second to pause, in which he examines her reaction carefully to know if he should continue or not. He looks all around her face, searching for clues – and easily finding them. In how her eyes sparkle in a way he's never seen them shine before, how her cheeks are flushed bright pink, how her lips slightly open in shock but their corners are curling up into the beginnings of a smile.

He decides he can safely continue.

"What if I say I want to kiss you in this moment?"

Her fingers twitch, her heart skips a beat. In that same second, his fingers reach out to grab hers, pulling them to his chest, only to press them down right there immediately. Through the cold to the touch silk, she can clearly feel his heart beating in a rapid rhythm, almost equalling hers.

(y/n) lets her eyes follow their hands, momentarily mesmerised by how beautifully their skins blend into the other, through the cracks in-between his fingers that are nearly covering all of hers. Then her glance moves higher, right to his lips, before slowly, eventually arriving to his eyes. She doesn't find it in herself to speak, doesn't trust her lips and her voice to be able to say what she truly feels and means, and so only moves her head in the tiniest of nods, careful not to break eye contact.

Lewis has been attentively waiting for her response for several long seconds now, being ready for whatever it might be. When it comes, he jumps on the opportunity like there's no tomorrow, like he's scared she might change her mind if he waits a second longer, and catches her lips with his own in a single movement, once more in the past five minutes, but this time with much more meaning to it.

notes: oh god the way i pictured this so vividly in my head following nothing but a freaking dream my mind came up with... ever since then i couldn't get it out of my head. i know i didn't do it justice with how i've written it, but honestly? i just needed to write it down before i go crazy. (and to think that i'm not even that crazy of a lewis fan... what this could've been if i was?!)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

taglist: formulapierre

if anyone wanted an idea about the dress i had in mind while writing: