#sorry this took a second to get back to you!! i hadn't put together a playlist for ever yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

what about the 141 boys and konig rejecting the reader to keep things professional but when she starts getting closer with someone on base they try to get her back

Thanks for this one. I hope this is what you were looking for!🙂

141 + König Rejecting Reader, Then Regretting It

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, swearing, crying

(Not me using this Simon gif again because it makes me weak in the knees🫡)

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

Simon Ghost Riley-

It wasn't that Simon didn't like you. He truly did. It was more so the fact that he was your lieutenant, your superior, and he couldn't put you both at risk like that by accepting your romantic advances.

He'd felt horrible, his insides churning when he'd rejected you. He watched as your face fell in defeat and how you struggled not to cry in front of him. He didn't know how to make the situation better or what to say, so he watched as you fled from the room, wondering if you'd ever talk to him again.

He thought he'd be able to work through it. Work through knowing that you felt the same about him and that he blew it. But then came König.

You two had been friends for some time, but lately you two had seemed...closer. He saw the two of you together more frequently, whether it be training together, eating together, or even sitting on the couch together after missions. What hurt Simon the most was the fact that you seemed... happy with him.

The more Simon thought about it, the more he started to beat himself up. Thinking that his time was limited, he decided to talk to you about it. He just hoped that he wasn't too late.

He found you later that night, finishing up at the shooting range. He was thankful everyone else had gone to bed, leaving you two alone.

"Y/N." Simon called out, grabbing your attention. You whirled around to meet him face to face and gave the best smile you could muster. You hadn't really spoken to him since he rejected you, and the ache in your heart was still present.

"Sir." You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Simon scratched at the back of his head nervously, unsure of what to say next. He had it planned out in his head, but now that you were here in front of him, his mind was a jumbled mess. "Don't date him."

Your eyes widened slightly as you absorbed his words. "I'm sorry? Date who?"

"König." Simon's voice came out cracked, and you could tell that he was nervous, an emotion not commonly associated with the masked man.

"König? Why would I be dating him?" You asked, bemused.

"I've seen the two of you together, and you seem... happy with him." Simon was avoiding your eyes, the mask he wore, unable to hide the emotions he was feeling.

You took a deep breath as you regarded the man carefully. Your mind was racing with a million different thoughts. Why did he care if you dated König? He was the one who rejected you.

"Why do you care if I do?" You tried, curious to see his reasoning. It wasn't like it was against the rules to date him. He wasn't in your squad.

Simon let out a huff of frustration, clearly annoyed at the situation, at the fact you couldn't just understand what he was trying to say. Words didn't come easy to Simon, and he wasn't sure what to say to make you understand.

"I don't want you to." Is all he was able to say.

"You don't want me to? Simon, what the hell is that supposed to mean? If this is because of us, you're the one who rejected me. And now you're telling me you don't want me seeing other people? I don't understand why-"

In a matter of seconds, Simon's balaclava was torn off, revealing his handsome face as he swiftly moved toward you, crashing his lips to yours, effectively cutting you off.

The kiss was brief, fleeting, as before you could even register what was happening, he was pulling away.

"Simon?" You asked, breathless as your cheeks began to burn pink.

"I don't want you to be with anyone, but me." His voice was barely above a whisper, but you'd still heard him.

"Simon, you told me no. You said that it wasn't smart and-"

"Fuck being smart. I can't get you out of my head, kid. You're always there. I've thought for so long that I'm better off alone, and I was okay with that. Until you. And for the first time in a long fucking time, I want something for myself. I want you."

You felt tears starting to form in your eyes as you watched him struggle for words. This was a side of Simon you've never seen before. He was showing you his vulnerability. "If you truly want me, Simon, I'm yours."

His ears perked up slightly as he lifted his gaze back to you. You saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as you slowly moved to cup his cheek. You let your eyes rake across his handsome features before landing them back on his lips. "Kiss me, Simon Riley."

And he did.

König-

"König. Do you have a second?" You asked, approaching the hooded mass of a man timidly.

"Of course, Maus. What's up?" He gave you a warm smile before turning back to scrub at the dirty hood in his hands.

"I was.. I wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you. They've gotten hard to ignore, and I felt I should tell you." You said, your voice shaking slightly.

You heard König sigh deeply as he turned his gaze to you. "We can't. It's not ethical. I'm sorry."

He turned back to his hood, giving the impression that the conversation was over.

You let out a shaky breath as you struggled to keep your composure. "Of course. I understand."

You quickly turned on your heel and fled from his room, desperate for him to not see you cry.

König listened to your fading footsteps and sighed deeply. He felt terrible. He honestly didn't know you felt the same way and frankly didn't know how to react. He'd liked you for a long time but was scared that being romantically entagled in this sort of field wasn't beneficial for either of you. It didn't help that he was terrible with words as well.

He was planning on approaching you about it, to try and smooth things over, but every time he tried, you were with Ghost.

He knew you and Ghost had a close relationship, but lately, it seemed to strengthen in a way that had Königs heart constricting.

Everywhere he went, there you were with the masked lieutenant. König was no fool. He'd heard the whispers of the women on base, even the men, of how attractive Ghost was. König could only hope that you weren't one of the ones that felt that way.

A few days had passed since the two of you spoke, and König was starting to lose his mind. He couldn't bear not talking to you, and as the days went on, he was terrified he'd lose you to Ghost.

König had decided to approach you during lunch one day, not caring that you were sitting next to your Lieutenant.

"Maus, can I speak with you." He asked, clearing his throat to get your attention away from Ghost.

You turned to König with a small smile, nodding your head. "Sure. What's up?"

"Alone, if that's okay." He murmured, turning his head toward the door.

You followed him wordlessly to the weapons room, and fortunately for the two of you, it was empty.

"Are...are you with him?" König stuttered out, his cheeks burning with shame as he ripped off his hood.

"Who, Ghost? No, he's just a friend. Same as you." You said, your voice laced with disdain.

Königs eyes left yours as they landed on the ground beneath you. He didn't know what to say. It was clear you were still upset with him, not that he could blame you.

"Is that all you wanted to ask me? If I'm with Ghost?" You asked, bouncing on the heels of your feet. The tension was palpable between the two of you, and you wanted nothing more than to run from it.

"I wanted that to be me. The one laughing with you. The one you went to after a long day. The one you wanted to be around." He said, his voice characteristically soft.

"It was. Then you rejected me. I didn't know if you wanted me around anymore." You admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

"Don't ever ever say that. Hell would freeze over before I'd ever stop wanting your company." Königs voice was stern, a complete contrast to how he was speaking moments before. "I want you, Y/N. I was a moron to reject you. I thought I was doing what was best, and then you pulled away completely. And I saw you with him. I just.. I dont.."

You took a step toward him and placed a warm hand on his cheek. "König."

He stopped his rambling as his eyes met yours once more. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand drifted down his cheek softly, your thumb slowly carrying his bottom lip.

You stood on your toes, barely able to reach his cheek with your mouth, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "It's okay, Kö."

His eyes opened as he looked down at you, a toothy grin making its way to his lips. "Be mine, Maus."

You nodded, and he was quick to press his lips to yours. His lips were softer than you'd imagined they'd be, and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you closely as if he thought you'd leave if he didn't. Little did he know, in his arms was the only place you'd ever wanted to be.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You've never been so embarrassed in your life. You'd been in love with Johnny for years, and you truly had thought he felt the same. You thought that you made it to a point in your friendship that you could finally tell him how you felt.

So when he flat out rejected you, you were surprised, to say the least. He'd told you that while he respected that that's how you felt, he couldn't in good conscious get into a relationship with you. It wouldn't be professional.

You avoided him for a few days after that, as you were too embarrassed and hurt to face him. Johnny was no better. He felt horrible after you left and wondered if he made the right call. You were the love of his life. He just didn't think he deserved you, and he was so scared thinking about you getting hurt out in the field because of him.

What hurt him the most, though, was the fact that you started to hang out a lot more with Reyes, one of the guys from SpecGru who'd been on base a few weeks. The way you treated him was the way you treated Johnny before he went and screwed everything up.

Johnny began to find it impossible not to get riled up every time he saw you with Reyes. It was clear the Canadian had an interest in you, and the thought of you two being together had Johnny's insides churning.

Later that night, you'd walked into your room and were met face to face with Johnny, who was sitting on your bed.

"I'm a fool, Y/N." Johnny's voice caught your attention as you walked through your door.

"Jesus, Johnny. Scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?" Your hand flew to your heart as you caught your breath.

"Sorry. I just uh. I wanted to talk." His eyes flitted down to his hands, as he began to fiddle with a hang nail.

"About?" You crossed your arms defensively, desperate to protect the little piece of your heart he hadn't already hurt.

"I shouldn't have turned you down. I was a fool. I thought, by turning you away, I'd keep you safe. That our feelings for each other wouldn't get in the way of our responsibilities if I just ignored how I felt."

"And what changed in a matter of days?" Your tone was icy, and it made Johnny shudder. It wasn't a tone he liked being on the receiving end of, but he couldn't fault you for it.

"I saw you. With Reyes." Johnny admitted, his head downturned in shame. He didn't want to admit he was jealous, but it tore him up inside to see you laughing, and happy with a man that wasn't him.

"So you're only telling me this because you're jealous."

"No. I'm telling you this because I've harbored feelings for you for years. I tried to push you away because I thought it was what was best. And I was wrong. Seeing you with Reyes made me realize that. I want you, Y/N. I always have. I just hope I'm not too late." You heard his voice quiver slightly toward the end, and it made your defensive walls crumble.

"You want me, Johnny? Truly?" You asked, standing straight as you watched him watch you.

Johnny stood off your bed and strode up to you. "I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you."

And that was all that was needed for you to press your lips to his. The man you'd been in love with for years, was finally yours.

John Price-

"While I respect how you feel, it's inappropriate. You're my subordinate, I'm your superior." John stated curtly. He watched as your shoulders slumped in defeat, as you struggled to maintain a neutral expression.

"Understood, sir. I apologize for bringing it up." You gave a firm nod as you turned to the door.

"Y/N. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"Of course, sir. Enjoy your day." You a small smile before exiting, letting the tears free fall once you made it far enough away from his office.

Price slouched forward in his chair and ran his hands along his face. He felt like a total asshole. He wasn't blind. He knew you had feelings for him, and he'd be a liar if he said he didn't return them.

You were his ray of sunshine in every sense of the word, and he'd do anything for you. He just knew the risks that came with superior/subordinate relationships, and he wasn't okay with those. He didn't want to see you get hurt because of him.

A few days passed since the incident, and he'd seen no sign of you. You usually would start your mornings with him, but he hadn't seen you since that day in his office.

He made his way to the cafeteria, stopping short when he saw you sitting with Soap.

Price gritted his teeth as he watched you joke around with him. He knew it was childish, immature even. While he was doing his best to push his feelings for you aside, you were making it impossible for him.

It went on like this for nearly a week. Every time that you'd usually come to see Price, he'd now find you hanging out with the scot.

He'd finally had enough of it, his jealousy getting the better of him, as he stormed off to his office.

"Hey, Price told me to send you to his office." Gaz had informed you later that day.

"Oh? Am I in trouble?" You questioned, chuckling lightly.

"Who knows, he does seem a little grumpy today." Kyle sent you a sympathetic smile before walking toward the barracks.

"Great." You murmured as you made your way to Price's office.

"Y/N." John greeted you as you walked through the door. "Close the door."

"Sir. What can I do for you?" You asked, pushing the door closed with a slam. Price never called you into his office like this.

He watched you for a moment, not saying anything as he carefully studied your movements. He could tell you were nervous.

"Did you mean what you said?" He asked, regarding you carefully as he slowly started to talk toward you.

"What are you referring to, sir?" You knew what he was asking, but you didn't feel like being shut down yet again by the man.

"You said you have feelings for me." He continued to stalk toward you. "I'm asking if that was that true?"

You gulped audibly as you began to step backward, away from him. "Yes, sir. But I realize that it was inappropriate."

"I'm your captian."

"I know."

"Your boss."

"I know."

"The man who's hands you put your life in, every time I send you out on a mission."

"I know."

John stared at you, his gaze intense as he tried to read you. He wanted to know what was going on in that beautiful head of yours. "And, I'm the man that's going to make you scream out his name tonight."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him carefully. He'd effectively backed you into the corner of his office, and you'd heard the "click" of the lock on his door.

"But you said-"

"Fuck what I said. I'm done doing this dance. There's no point in beating around the bush any longer. I want you, and I want this. If you want me, get over here."

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up, as you threw yourself onto John, your lips latching to his in a heated, desperate kiss.

Needless to say, John was a man of his word, and it didn't take long before he had you screaming his name that day, and many others to come.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"It wouldn't work between us. We've both got so much going on, and with this job, I think it would be a bit too much for us to handle." Kyle said, smiling sadly.

"Oh! Yeah, sure. That makes sense. I get it." You nodded your head vigorously, your eyes moving anywhere but your best friends face. "Silly of me to even bring it up."

"Y/N." Kyle started, trying to walk up to you.

"No. No, really. It's okay. I have to go anyway, I have a bunch of stuff to do." You gave him a sad smile before briskly making your way out of the room.

Kyle felt his stomach drop as he heard a sniffle come from the hallway, knowing it was you. The more he rethought what he said to you, the worse he felt. He's had feelings for you for quite some time, but he was always too worried to act on it. His job meant the world to him, and frankly, he was scared of that being jeopardized.

Desperate to try to repair your relationship, however, he set out to find you.

Kyle found you later that day in the training room, practicing hand to hand combat with Alejandro.

He felt his blood boil at the way the man touched you. He knew it wasn't fair to Alejandro, but seeing him touch you like that sparked something in Kyle. It was in that moment that he knew he didn't want to push down his feelings for you any longer.

"Mind if I take over?" He asked as he approached. "Been needing to blow off some steam."

You and Alejandro stopped mid fight, the two of you struggling to catch your breath. "Alright, hermana, same time tomorrow?"

"Of course. Thank you for helping, by the way." You slapped his shoulder playfully .

"Anytime. Kyle, be seeing you." He gave Kyle a pat on the back as he made his way out.

Silence fell in the room as you and Kyle watched Alejandro leave.

"Hey." Kyle said after some time.

"Hey." You replied, rubbing at your arm nervously. "Did you actually want to train or?"

Kyle swallowed thickly, his eyes darting around the room. "I just wanted to talk. I felt bad. For earlier."

"Nothing to apologize for. You said your peace and I can't fault you for that." You gave him a sad smile.

"No, I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have turned you down. I thought in the moment I was doing the right thing."

"And now?"

"And now, I realize that the only right thing for me is you." The sincerity in his voice had your heart skipping a beat, as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. "I was a fool for thinking otherwise. You're all I want."

"What will you do about it?" You asked, your eyes flickering to his lips.

"If you'll let me, I'd kiss you." He gave you a warm smile as he leaned down toward you, his warm breath fanning across your lips. Your eyes falling shut was all the consent he needed.

And, after waiting for nearly 5 years, you'd finally gotten the kiss you'd been waiting for, with the man you loved.

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

A/N: Thanks for reading!

4K notes · View notes

lipringlrh · 1 year

Text

give you a show | LN4

summary: when your roommates that good looking it's hard not to stare

pairings: roommate!lando norris x fem!reader

an: not posted in a little (sorry) but i actually have a lot in my drafts but i’m grouping them together so i need to finish them all off before i post them :)

word count: 800

warnings: none i don’t think

feedback and reblogs appreciated !!

…

You hadn't been roommates with Lando very long, only a few weeks, and each day you couldn't tell whether you were regretting it or enjoying it more each day. Today included both.

You opened the door to your apartment only an hour later than you left after picking up a few things you needed. You quickly took your shoes off by the door and headed further inside, announcing a quick, "I'm home," as you led your jacket down on the top of a chair, a bad habit both you and Lando formed, but it was just easier.

"Kitchen," a reply came from your left.

You headed towards the kitchen door, briefly pausing as you stepped inside before recomposing yourself and carrying on. You sat on a bar stool seat in the corner of the room, Lando in perfect view, before unconsciously taking your phone out.

You weren't focused on it at all, not when Lando was standing there, looking like that. His body was faced sideways away from you and his hair was sticking up in all sorts of directions, but he still pulled it off well. Grey sweatpants hung off his hips very lowly and he wasn't wearing a shirt at all. He was either chopping some food or mixing something - you weren't sure, you weren't focused on what he was doing anyway.

A few minutes pass, he's moved around a bit but always returning to the same place no matter what he's doing. You weren't really sure what he was doing but you weren't complaining. The more he seemed to stand there, the more his arms seemed to flex too. You were loving it, completely unaware of how obvious you were, or what you were meant be to doing, you couldn't think straight anyway.

You were too concentrated on him and his arms that you didn't hear him call your name the first time - or the second. It was only the third time he said it that it knocked you out of your daze. Your eyes met his face again, tracing over every detail. Luckily he wasn't looking at you, you thought, he was still focused on whatever he was doing.

"You've been watching that for an awful long time," he spoke, a smirk taking over his features. He was right, you realised. Looking at the phone, you noticed you'd opened tiktok and had just been letting the same video play on loop since you sat down.

You stutter for a moment, thinking of an excuse. "I was reading the comments." You said, lying through your teeth way too obviously.

His smirk never faltered, instead just grew, "took you a while to tell me that. Don't worry, I don't mind when you stare."

You didn't really know how to answer that so you just stayed quiet, your eyes still trained on his face as he turned around and stepped much closer to you.

He was right in front of you now, the only thing separating you was the marble of the kitchen bar worktop.

"What? You think I didn't notice? I cut up way more salad than I'd need in a week, waiting for you to notice." He grinned, putting his arms on the counter and moving his face down to the same height as yours and ever so slightly closer.

"So you were giving me a show?" You reply before you have any time to think about it. You watch as he falters at your response, giving yourself a little ego boost. You cock your head to the side, almost as if you're challenging him for a reply.

He quickly gains his compose back, brushing off the slight embarrassment of you getting him flustered - it isn't the first time but it's the most obvious.

"Well, when there's a pretty girl in front of you, always." He whispers as though it's obvious, in an attempt to again fluster you more than how you flustered him.

"So you think I'm pretty?" You try to hide your grin but fail miserably. Lando also fails to hide his when he sees yours.

"Very much so," he smiles back, moving a hand up to brush some hair off of your face. "Now," he says, slapping his hands down on the counter and flexing slightly, "what kind of roommate would I be if I didn't give you a full show? Anything else you'd like to watch me do?" he says, almost playful, almost serious, liking the idea of being ogled at by you quite nice.

"Well there's a watermelon in the fridge," you tease, tracing your hand down the prominent veins in his arm.

He smirks, watching your hand in motion, "perfect." He doesn't move though, he stays there, absorbed in the way your hand touches his arm.

"Get to it!" you joke, watching as he moves instantly towards the fridge.

In his rush, he doesn't forget to turn back and give you a cheeky wink, followed by a "yes, ma'am."

…

feedback + reblogs appreciated and requests are open :)

2K notes · View notes

ih34rt-lanceystrxlly · 5 months

Text

Getting out of her shell

table of contents/pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: she had big shoes to fill at Mercedes and the added pressure of being a rookie, she knew that. On top of that, she was finding it hard to open up with the media, the rest of the grid, even her own teammate. All it took was a little push from a certain papaya driver to get her out of her shell...

warnings: mentions of a crash and alcohol (also I refuse to proof read, so sorry !!)

message from A☆: I swear I've been working on this on and off for months !! This ones a pretty long one, so grab a snack and a drink, plus I'm super proud of this fic, and I really hope you enjoy...

"She's like a ghost in the motorhome, I swear. If she doesn't need to be anywhere she's just alone in her driver's room with her headphones in." George said with a scoff, talking with Alex, Logan, and Oscar about his new teammate.

"She's even like that outside, I mean, look at her now..." Alex pointed over to Y/N, and he had a point. The new Mercedes driver was always alone in the paddock, but she never felt lonely. Well, at least not all the time. It was in Y/N's nature, she was a very reserved and quiet person, always had been. She was leaning against a wall, separated from the other drivers who were all talking with each other before the drivers parade began. She has her headphones in, as usual, and seemed to be staring at something no one else could see. Oscar looked at her for a little longer than he should've, he felt a little pang in his chest, but he pushed the feeling away.

"Mate...Oscar, snap out of it" Logan said while snapping at Oscar to retrieve him from his trance.

Seconds later, they were all called to board the vehicle of the parade, and Oscar still kept looking at her. He looked at her as if she was a riddle he wanted to solve, he wanted to know why she was so quiet. But that would never happen, right?

---

It was lap 10 of the Grand Prix, it'd barely started. Oscar was in P8, Y/N close behind him. They hadn't even reached turn 4 when their cars go wheel to wheel. Only Oscar comes out unscathed. Y/N's car veers off the track, just barely bumping the barriers. Minutes later, she's out of the car, physically fine but inside she wants to start sobbing.

"Is she ok? Is she out of the car yet?" Oscar asks over his team radio, the slightest hint of guilt in his voice.

"Don't worry Oscar, she's out and ok...more importantly, are you ok? Is you car fine?" His engineer chimes in over the radio. Oscar says everything is fine, but he still feels like something is off.

Back in the Mercedes paddock, Y/N is being checked up on. The crash wasn't horrible, but even that slight impact could've caused injury. She's antsy the whole time, wanting to go hide in her driver's room until the day was over. She put too much pressure on herself, she knew that, but she couldn't help it. She was the only rookie on the grid, and on top of that she had replaced the Lewis Hamilton. She'd be insane if she didn't beat herself up at least a little bit...but there was something different about this time. It was like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and it was suffocating her with a crushing force. As soon as the medic and Toto gave her the ok, she ran off to her driver's room as fast as she could. Once there she closed the door frantically, slid down to the floor and just started sobbing. It's not like she had anyone to turn to, she wasn't even friends with her own teammate, this was one of those times when she did feel lonely in the paddock. And there wasn't much she could do about it.

----

The race was over by then, Oscar placed P6. Sure, he was happy to be in the points, but there was still something wrong. He saw Y/N as the post race interviews, he notice how her eyes looked a little redder, her lashes clumped together in that way they do when someone's been crying. She'd been crying. He could tell. Another wave of guilt washed over him, but he was quickly snapped out of his daydream by a journalist pointing a microphone at him.

All the drivers make their rounds with the interviews, media necessities, post race debriefs with their teams, and they've reached the point in the night when everyone is leaving the paddock. As Oscar's leaving, he sees Y/N leaving too, she looked tired. He had to apologize. So he caught up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Y/N, hey, I just wanted to see if you're ok..." He said a little breathlessly.

"Oh no, no, I'm fine, really, it's fine" She says with a bit of a shake in her voice, but her face said otherwise. Her eyes looked tired and she looked deflated.

"I know it's not...come on, you can tell me." He said in a soft tone, he didn't have to apologize or even speak to her, but something in his heart told him he needed to.

"I just feel so much pressure...and it's not like the team or Toto is on my ass, it's all just in my head. And social media. But it's just so hard when I replaced the fucking Lewis Hamilton! Plus the fact that I'm the only rookie and a girl for that mater...it's just all too much." She said with a sigh. "And I mean, have you seen the shit people say about me on the internet? It's just...exhausting." She punctuated her sentence with a groan. "And the crash made all my emotions just kind of blow up in my face...I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, rubbing her face.

"There's no need to be sorry, Y/N. Just know you can always talk to me...ok? In fact, let me give you my number, just incase." He gestured for her to give him her phone, so she opened the messages app and gave it to him. He typed in his number and sent himself a text, then gave her phone back and promptly got out his so he could save her number.

"You know you don't have to be this nice to me, right?" She looked up at him with slightly furrowed brows.

"I know, but I want to...I'll see you around Y/N." He gave her a soft smile and headed towards the paddock's exit, she just watched him leave with a confused smile on her face. Now, maybe she wasn't so lonely after all.

----

Her and Oscar became fast friends, she reminded him of himself earlier into his rookie season. She was so shy and reserved, to some maybe she even seemed stoic, but deep down she was a really kind and funny person. And maybe that wasn't all Oscar liked about Y/N. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she talked about racing or anything she really loved, her little nervous tics and that face she'd make when she was really concentrated, he loved every little thing about her. Now when they hung around together in the paddock, he was almost like her guard dog (and also her social crutch, but that's besides the point !). He really helped her open up to the other drivers, even if she didn't become best friends with all of them. And most importantly, he was always there for her when everything just felt too much, he was always the first person she'd call. And he loved that feeling, of knowing it was him who could comfort her when nothing else could. It made him feel close to her. But something still made his cheeks flush and chest tingle when he was close to her. Maybe he didn't want to be just friends. But at the same time, he knew nothing could truly happen. At least that's what he thought.

It was much later in the season now, in fact it was already over and it was almost time for the FIA prize giving ceremony. Oscar hadn't won anything, but Y/N got rookie of the year. She was nervous for the ceremony, that's for sure, even if he had helped her get out of her shell. But she had a great idea as to how to calm her nerves, and that's when she called Oscar.

"Hey!" She said as Oscar picked up.

"Y/N, hey, what's up?"

"So you know how I'm really nervous about the whole prize ceremony thing?"

"Mhm"

"Can you come with me? Not as a date, I mean you would technically be my date...but like my plus one, as friends!" She rambled a bit nervously.

"I'd love to Y/N." He said with a chuckle.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to Y/N, you know I don't mind"

"Ok then...my dress is green, obviously. But you can just wear black if you want."

"Alright, perfect." He chuckled into the phone.

"Ok, I'll text you more info later, bye!"

"Bye..." He said as Y/N hung up, he couldn't wait.

----

It was the night of the Prize Giving Ceremony, and Y/N was a nervous wreck. She was so thankful to have Oscar with her, who held her hand the entire time. She looked stunning in the emerald green gown she had on, Oscar had a basic black suit that was tailored perfectly to his body. The ceremony itself went very smoothly, and as it got later the real fun began. Y/N and Oscar drank and danced the night away, but as she drank more, Y/N's thoughts just started to pour out with no filter. It wasn't until they were walking back to the hotel that she truly began to ramble.

"I don't really know why you agreed to this, I mean, I am such a loser." she giggled.

"You're not a loser, Y/N, far from it actually."

"Oscar, you're my only friend, and anyways I don't even know why. I feel like I cling to you too much, and I'm annoying, an-"

"Y/N you're no-" He gently held her biceps to make her face him as he spoke, but he was then cut off by her.

"I am though, I am, and everyone else knows it too. I shouldn't have replaced Lewis, I-" She continued to ramble, until Oscar cut her off.

"Look Y/N, I love you, ok?I just...you're so perfect and beautiful and talented, and it's just not fair that you're so insecure." He said with his hands still gripping her biceps. Her cheeks were flushed, partially from the alcohol, and she looked up at him wide-eyed.

"I...I love you too." She said with a light, drunken giggle. That's when he finally leaned in and kissed her, it was an almost frantic kiss. Like he'd die if he didn't kiss her. She happily reciprocated it, even if she went a little softer. Thank god for the Aussie that helped her get out of her shell.

#f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri imagine

427 notes · View notes

firewasabeast · 1 month

Note

if you're still doing prompts: maybe eddie thinks he sees tommy cheating and confronts him only to find out just how wrong he is. thanks!

“Sorry, man, I can't. I took an extra shift.” That was what Tommy had told Eddie when Eddie asked if he wanted to go to their usual sports bar for beer and wings.

Which is why Eddie was very curious as to why Tommy was walking down the street, passing right by the bar on his way to wherever he was going.

Eddie kept watching as Tommy reached the crosswalk, stopping as he waited for traffic to clear.

Buck wasn't with him, but some other guy appeared to be. At least, he kept talking to Tommy, leaning in close and laughing at something Tommy said.

“This can't be good,” Eddie muttered. He could feel himself starting to get heated already.

The light at the crosswalk changed just as Eddie threw a twenty down for the wings he ordered but hadn't gotten yet. He hurried out of the bar and managed to make it to the crosswalk just as the hand lit up telling him not to cross.

He crossed anyway.

Eddie waved off the honks and hid behind a building until he was sure Tommy wouldn't be looking back toward the noise.

Slowly he peeked around the building and glanced around until he spotted Tommy again. He and this guy were continuing down the street, so that's what Eddie did too.

He made sure to keep enough distance between them, but honestly Tommy looked so enthralled with whatever conversation they were having that Eddie was pretty sure he wouldn't be noticed anyway.

He had half a mind to whip out his phone and start taking pictures and videos. Get proof of whatever was happening so he'd have evidence when he told Buck.

Because he had to tell Buck.

Because Buck was all in on this relationship. He was undeniably in love with Tommy. Together for a year now, living with one another for four months, and Buck often talked about their future.

He had to tell him before papers were signed; before things were made official.

It would break Buck's heart. Eddie knew that. He'd be out of it for weeks, maybe even months.

But how could Eddie let this continue while knowing that Tommy was a backstabbing, two-timing, cheating skank?

Okay, maybe he was beyond heated. It was possible he was livid.

It didn't make it any better that the two men had stopped now, and this unknown homewrecker was reaching out and putting his hand on Tommy's shoulder.

“Hey!” Eddie yelled before he could stop himself.

Tommy's head jerked toward him, wide-eyed. Like a deer in headlights. “Eddie. What... I-hi.”

“Hi? That's what you have to say to me? Hi?”

Tommy's face went from surprised to confused. “Would you prefer hello?”

“Don't play dumb with me, man! How could you do something like this?”

“You gotta help me out here, Eddie. What'd I do?”

“You lied to me, for one.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Sorry, Eddie, I just had this thing I had to do today and I didn't want anyone knowing about it.”

“That's what you call this? A thing? Right in front of him?” He motioned to the man, who seemed a bit anxious at the moment.

“Well, it's not like he doesn't know what I'm doing.”

“Of course he knows! Buck's the only one who doesn't know. Have you thought about that? Have you spared a second to think about your boyfriend in all of this?”

“He's kinda all I've been thinking about during this.”

Eddie put one hand on his hip, the other pointed at Tommy. “I'm so close to punching you right in the face, Tommy.”

“I'd rather you didn't,” Tommy deadpanned. “Eddie, would you like to meet Gordon? He's the owner of the jewelry shop we're standing in front of.”

“You're cheating on Buck with Gordon? Really, Tommy? Gordon?” Part of Eddie felt a little bad. Gordon wasn't a bad looking guy. He was shorter than both of them, short brown hair and even browner eyes. He wasn't very muscular, but the suit he wore fit him well. Tattoos peeked out from underneath his collar, and the black frame of his glasses really tied the whole look together.

Still, he wasn't Buck, and they both needed to know that!

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “I'm doing what with who now?” he asked as Gordon shook his head nervously.

“Oh, no. That, um. No.”

“And you're gonna do it in his jewelry store? Shame on you, Tommy. Shame!”

“Eddie, I'm gonna need you to take it down like ten notches. I'm not cheating on Evan.”

“Then what's with the lying?” Eddie questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “And Gordon?”

“Like I said before, Gordon owns the jewelry shop we're standing in front of. We met a few months ago on a call. We got to talking and that's when he told me about this place. He's usually closed today, but he was kind enough to bring me here on his day off so I could pick up the ring.”

Sometimes it took Eddie a minute to connect the dots, but he always got there. “Ring?” he questioned, his tone lighter now.

“Yeah. Ring.”

“You mean like an eng-”

“Engagement ring, yes.”

“Oh... Oh!” Now Eddie was smiling brightly, holding out his hand to Gordon for a shake. “Great to meet you, man! I'm Eddie.”

“H- Hi, Eddie.” Gordon returned the shake, but he was still a little nervous, and very confused.

“Gordon,” Tommy explained, “Eddie is Evan's best friend. I was supposed to hang out with him today, but I lied and said I had to work. My mistake.”

“Mm,” Gordon nodded. “It's starting to make sense now. Would you both like to come in?”

“Yes, we would,” Eddie answered, following behind Gordon as he unlocked the door.

“I'll go get it from the back,” Gordon said, locking the door back once they were inside. “It may take me a minute, but shouldn't be too long.”

Once Gordon had left them in the front of the store, Tommy turned to Eddie. “I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on Evan. Are you crazy?”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “I couldn't believe it, that's why I was so mad! Why didn't you tell me this is what you were doing?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “I was nervous. Figured if he said no, at least no one would know I'd asked.”

“He's not gonna say no.”

“You don't know that.”

“Dude, he's not gonna say no.”

“But what if he does, Eddie? What if I screw it up somehow?” Tommy rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “I want it to be perfect. He deserves that.”

Gordon came back out then, box in hand. “Here you go, Mr. Kinard. Make sure everything is perfect before you pay.”

“You didn't have to pay for it yet?” Eddie asked as Tommy took the box.

“No,” Tommy answered, glancing up at Eddie. “Another kind thing he did was let me wait until it was engraved before I paid. Because he's a nice person.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, then turned to Gordon. “Sorry for calling you a homewrecker, man. I didn't mean it.”

“I... I didn't know you called me a homewrecker.”

“That might've been in my head. Still, sorry.”

Gordon felt in a little over his head here. This Eddie person was... interesting. “That's okay.”

Tommy stared down at the ring, biting at his lip.

“Gordon,” Eddie flashed him a smile, “could you give us a couple more minutes? Then we'll pay and be out of your hair.”

“No problem.”

Once he'd retreated back to his office, Eddie moved closer to Tommy. “What's engraved on it?”

Tommy pulled the ring out of the box and handed it to Eddie. Silver with a gold band running down the center, dots and dashes on the inside. “It's um, it's morse code. It just says “ILY” for I love you, obviously, but the morse code is the special part.”

“Why's that?”

Eddie watched as Tommy smiled at whatever memory was popping into his head. “They still taught morse code when I was in the army, and when Evan found out I knew it he was determined to learn. We'd practice every time we were together.”

“I remember him doing that at work too.”

Tommy nodded. “Yup. He had it down in a month. We still use it whenever we can. He'll tap something out on my thigh, or even blink something at me from across a room.”

Eddie placed the ring back into the box. “Propose to me.”

Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Propose to me,” he repeated.

“Wh... Why, exactly?”

“You said you were worried the proposal wouldn't be perfect. That you'd screw it up. Practice on me, and I'll let you know.”

“That's insane.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Two months ago you and I parachuted out of a plane when the engine failed and got lost in the mountains for nearly two days. That was insane. This is being prepared.”

Tommy looked down at the ring, then to Eddie, then back at the ring, then back at Eddie. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Eddie clapped his hands together. “Okay, go.”

After a slow inhale, he began. “Evan.”

“Yes, Pooh Bear?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, tilting his head. “He doesn't call me that.”

“I've seen the texts, man.”

“Forget it. I'm not doing this with you.”

As he turned to walk away, Eddie grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him back in. “Okay, okay. I'll be serious. Now, come on. Propose to me.”

Tommy sighed. “Fine, but I'm not kneeling.”

“That's okay, I'll pretend.”

Tommy straightened his posture and cleared his throat before beginning again.

“Evan.”

“Tommy.”

“Growing up, I never thought I'd find love. Not real love, anyway. I thought that maybe, if I was lucky, I could fabricate it. Play pretend and be fine with settling. Then, as I got older, I realized how unfair that was to me, and to whoever I would have ended up with.”

Tommy blinked away the tears that were blurring his vision as he continued. “I went through life with people, friends and colleagues that kept me busy, but I felt alone. And then you came along, and you lit up my world. Every doubt that I had collected over time slowly washed away with each smile we shared. Getting to do life with you over this past year has been an honor. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. If you would, I'd love us to have each other for the rest of our lives. So, Evan,” Tommy opened the box, presenting the ring to Eddie. “Will you marry me?”

Eddie stood there, staring between the ring and Tommy for what felt like an eternity, his own eyes red-rimmed and doe-like. “Holy hell,” he managed to utter out.

Nervously, Tommy asked, “You think he'll say yes?”

“Well, if he doesn't, I will!” Eddie took a step forward and wrapped Tommy in a hug, earning a surprised, “Oomph,” out of him.

“Yes,” Eddie said, patting his back. “He'll say say.”

When he finally pulled away, Tommy was smiling. He let out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. So, buy the ring, then?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, man. Buy the ring.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck actually is not involved in this fic at all lmao #but he's there in spirit #also tommy proposes to eddie here but it's not what you think 👀#prompt

399 notes · View notes

sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #x reader

2K notes · View notes

heathermason6060 · 2 months

Text

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings

Warnings: serial killer daryl, rough smut, inconsiderate smut, NO noncon, stalking, stealing, mentions of killing

Summary: Daryl can't decide if he wants to kill you, or fuck you. Switches between Daryl's and Readers POV.

Notes: SO SORRY ITS LONG This was really fun but really challenging to write, I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but that's hard when making him a serial killer lol! I'm making this a two pt, with the reader finding out in the next part.

Some days Daryl thought his luck might run out. He'd been lucky for too long. As far as he knew, no one suspected a thing. Every time he'd go out “hunting”, no matter how long he was gone for, he'd always managed to bring back something. Deer, rabbits, squirrels when prey was scarce.

It was easier now that the world had ended to keep it a secret. No threat of cops catching on, no more cameras on every street corner, no need to try to erase every possible trace.

The only thing he found to prove difficult had been finding a place to keep his trophies. He didn't really have a preference, hair, a tooth, or a piece of clothing, it was something he didn't understand the meaning of but something he did each time. He kept it in his room in the vent above his bed, behind a few boxes of books. The week prior he took it down to put the wedding ring of a man who tried attacking Rick out on their supply run, he’d had to restrain himself and keep the stabbing to a minimum because of Rick's presence.

He found himself growing uncomfortably interested in you. A revelation that he really, really didn't like. You were off limits, you were one of Rick's closest friends, you'd been there way too long. And you clearly hadn't done anything deserving of the things he daydreamed about doing to you, unlike the victims he’d killed before.

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they came back. His hands around your throat, the way your eyes would tear up as you struggled against him and the fact someone you trusted so much was the one ending your life.

His eyes followed you over the flames of the campfire as you took your plates and went inside. Aaron had hosted a little get together in his yard in Alexandria, cooking dinner for everyone in celebration of the newest addition to the town. Some nobody he found out there on their own, who jumped at the idea of joining a large group of people.

If Daryl had to kill you, he’d keep a lock of your hair.

He couldn't stop staring at it as you went inside. His mind flooded with flashes of pictures of it, his hand in it, stroking your soft locks before grabbing a fistful and putting a knife to your throat. The way you'd squeal and beg, squirm against him as he presses the edge firmer into your skin.

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away after you disappeared in the house you shared with Maggie and a few others.

It was like you were practically begging him to follow you.

Five different times that week you'd gone out on your own to ‘clear your head’, whatever the hell that meant.

First time he heard Glenn mention to someone that you'd just gone out beyond the walls, he wanted to follow you. The idea was far too tempting. But he didn't, he knew damn well he couldn't trust himself with you all alone, no one to hear you scream.

The fantasies he had begun to form disgusted him. He didn't just go out and kill any random human he felt like, he had to have some sort of rules or else things would get out of hand real fast. If he were to get caught, it needed to be someone Rick wouldn't think twice about him killing. Some raider, or any kind of piece of shit who'd be a threat to their group. He needed to have a fallback, worst case scenario one of Alexandria caught him.

Second rule, none of his people. Ever. His morals were questionable, if he had it his way he'd go out and hunt down any human he came across outside those walls.

But never his people. In a hypocritical way he did care about them, in the same way that any normal sane human being would care about their family. He could never even dream about hurting any of them, he’d rather die. But they had to earn that place in his heart.

It was a wonder you hadn't been killed by anyone else yet. The way you walked through the woods with your light pink sweater, leaving tracks in the leaves that a blind man could follow, and that fucking humming. He could easily track you with his eyes closed for miles with the way you kept humming.

You'd gone into an old shack in the backyard of an abandoned trailer.

A part of him felt angry then, how were you so stupid? If it had been someone else following you, and not Daryl, who knows what they'd do to you? And you'd have no idea until it was too late.

He paused at the thought. If he wasn't careful, that's exactly what would happen.

He followed you home about half a mile behind the entire time. When you were at the road that led to the gates he turned back, deciding it was the perfect time to go hunting.

The crossbow on his back weighed heavier than it normally did as he slunk down into the underbrush at the forest's edge. He hadn't decided on what animal yet, but the frustration and confusion alone caused by you made it pretty easy to guess.

He wiped the blood from the molar before he tucked it in the box in his vent, and decided to pay Maggie and Glenn a visit.

The house was completely empty, so he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Your room was pretty.

Your bed, a whopping full size mattress, made his pull out look like a military cot. You had an array of paintings on your walls, he remembered some of them. As soon as you got your own room in Alexandria you went out on runs with Glenn and Maggie just so you could decorate it.

His eyes went from painting to painting, then to your dresser. You kept it unexpectedly neat for someone who behaved so sloppily in the woods. Your journal, a small glass box you kept your sentimental jewelry in, a few makeup products. What drew his attention was the jewelry box, he could see the pair of pearl earrings you used to constantly wear. You never took them out back then, not even to sleep.

Orange bled into a dark purple against his face and he blinked, coming back to himself in front of your bedroom window. A strange confusion twisted in his gut when he realized he'd just been standing there, staring out your window for so long the sun had set.

You weren't stupid, or blind.

You'd have to be a fool to not notice the way Daryl had been taking interest in you.

There'd been several times in Alexandria where you'd be busy doing something, turn around and see him standing off in the distance, staring at you like fuckin’ Michael Myers.

If you'd go on runs and he came with you, you'd often glance at him to see him already looking. He'd always look away, pull out a cigarette and act like he wasn't just burning holes in the back of your head.

You'd come to the obvious conclusion that he had a crush on you.

What else could it be? You'd always thought he was really hot, men like that were hard to come by. Quiet, observant, strong as hell, he’d do anything for the people he loved and he wasn't an annoying pervert who'd suddenly turn into an asshole if you rejected him. Not that you'd ever reject him.

Each time you caught him staring your heart would race and you'd try to give a friendly smile, but apparently he was too shy for that. Which sucked, because of all the men you could have the hots for, Daryl was the most unapproachable and intimidating.

“Hey, have you guys seen an earring laying around anywhere?” You asked at dinner, glancing around the table. Carol had invited the inner group over for dinner, she'd made pasta and cookies.

You could never get enough of Carol's cookies.

“What's it look like?” Maggie asked beside Glenn, the two of them looking at you thoughtfully from across the table.

“Just a pearl earring. The one's I always used to wear.” You took a sip of your sweet tea, looking at the other faces to see if any of them had a split second look of recognition.

“Not that I can remember.” Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head after swallowing a heavy mouthful of alfredo pasta.

“I'll keep an eye out for it.” Rick tipped his head to you, nodding slightly before continuing eating. You smiled in return, knowing if anyone was likely to find it, it’d be him.

He'd grown very fond of you recently, the image of you had shifted in his head from another person he was responsible for, to a dear friend he could trust with his life. Mostly due to the way you were with Carl, always doing your best to be a figure of comfort to him. Not as close as he'd grown to Michonne, but more of a young aunt who takes too much interest in art and jewelry.

“I haven't seen you wear those in a while.” Carl spoke up.

You sighed when no one had any leads. “Yeah, I know. Just been worried about losing them, they're pretty important.” You took the last bite of your cookie, dusting your hands together before speaking again. “It's really weird, they were both in my jewelry box last time I checked, but this morning there was only one.”

“You think someone stole one?” Carol's voice held a tight tone of suspicion, her eyes narrowing so slightly you could've missed it if you blinked.

“No, I mean, no one goes in our house besides you all. And I know none of you care about a single earring.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek in deep thought.

You felt that familiar sensation of warmth on your cheek, like someone had a hot iron near you.

You turned your head to your left, met with Daryl's eyes from his spot at the end of the other side of the table.

To your surprise he didn't look away like he usually did. He kept his gaze steady, his elbows propped on the table and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth.

You didn't feel butterflies like usual, and your cheeks burned for a different reason. For the first time you were the one to look away.

Rick had put together a group to scout out further into town for more resources. The usual suspects, Aaron, Sasha, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl and of course, you.

He hadn't made up his mind on if he was glad or not. He'd been stupid, feeding the sparks of his mild obsession, and that pretty little pearl earring he kept in his jeans pocket felt like twenty pounds of red-hot metal.

They'd set up camp for the night in the woods right on the outskirts of town. Abraham had set up mediocre sound traps around the small clearing, and Daryl couldn't help but snort when you walked right into one and the cans failed to clash together.

Fire was a dumb idea too.

Daryl had started to remember why he preferred being alone. Aaron was too used to the safety of the Alexandria walls.

Abraham told him he'd better put it out after dark, also throwing in a passive aggressive insult, and Aaron stuttered out an agreement.

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes off you. He sat across the fire from you, watching you smile and laugh and joke with Rosita like you were two young girls in summer camp.

As the flames of his fixation on you grew, so did his confliction.

He had no problems with you. He'd barely even paid attention to you before you'd arrived at Alexandria, you were just another background character in his story that wouldn't make a difference if you died or not. But you'd grown close to Rick and Maggie, two people he cared about. So by extension, he cared about you too.

He wasn't sure when it started. It kind of just happened over time.

He was always an outside observer, keeping details of each person he knew on a list in his mind.

But you, he couldn't think of any reason you'd be so special. It was obvious you were smoking hot, he wasn't blind. But he'd seen his share of beautiful women. Maybe it was the fact you seemed to always have luck on your side, you could go out singing in the woods and never run into any trouble.

If the two of you weren't careful, that luck might change tonight.

Abraham and Aaron were busy looking at a map of the town and figuring out what pathing they'd take in the morning. Sasha and Rosita were sitting on their bedrolls cleaning their guns and talking about meaningless things, he didn't care enough to listen.

You were the odd man out. Just like him.

Sitting in the dirt on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with a stick in front of you while you thought.

He could tell you knew he was staring at you again. And judging by the way you were forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the stick you were drawing circles in the dirt with, you were trying your best not to look up.

He didn't expect you to look up. He almost let the confusion show on his face, caught off guard by his incorrect prediction. He saw the way your cheeks flushed even though the light of the fire made your face glow orange. He flared his nostrils at the sight, why'd you have to make it so damn hard?

His heart dropped when you suddenly stood and walked off into the woods.

No one had even noticed, too wrapped up in their conversations. Another thing that succeeded in his self restraint slipping away.

Daryl followed after counting three minutes in his head. He'd really hoped you'd come back before then, praying you'd be lucky enough to slip back through the trees before he got to his feet.

It was dark in the woods away from the campfire.

He could hear you a few yards ahead, your boots crunching lightly on leaves despite your attempts at being quiet.

He kept his distance, just following the sounds of your footsteps and the slight silhouette of your body, the moonlight seeping through the treetops barely grazing your hair and shoulders.

This was way too natural to him.

Now out here you were just like any other victim, but it brought him comfort knowing there'd be no way he could hurt you and get away with it. The two of you disappear off into the woods at night and only Daryl comes back? He might think the people around the fire made stupid decisions sometimes, but they weren't stupid enough to not be suspicious of him.

Maybe he could say walkers got you.

He clenched his jaw when he realized he was at such a desperate point that an idea that stupid even crossed his mind.

“Daryl?”

The sound of your sweet voice made him physically recoil, his hand falling from the knife in his belt that he didn't realize he'd been gripping.

He could barely make out your figure in front of him. You were facing him, maybe six feet away, standing underneath a large pine tree.

There was no use in hiding. Your eyes would've adjusted enough by now to see the shape of him.

Finally, he answered, his voice coming out in more of a growl than a human speaking. “Shouldn't be out here alone.”

There was silence before you filled it with the crunching of your footsteps moving towards him.

His body tensed as you drew closer, now able to make out the pretty features of your face. An image of you flashed in his head, blood running down your nose and lips, tears in your eyes, your fingernails raking down his wrist.

“I just needed a minute to clear my head.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren't out in the dead of night stomping around loud enough for any walkers within a five mile radius to hear.

Daryl said nothing, his eyes fixed on your face as you slowly crept near. Although he hated not being able to read your expressions, he was thankful for it, because he was hanging on by a thread and if you even showed the slightest hint of fear, he'd snap. He wouldn't be able to resist if your lips trembled, or if your eyes widened and you stuttered a single apprehensive syllable.

But as his eyes adjusted even further, his mouth ran dry and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. That would've been less of a stun than the look you were giving him, standing only a few inches away from him.

Your plan had worked. You'd been plotting it ever since Rick paired you up in that group, the silent attention Daryl had been giving you ended up driving you mad. You found it absurd that all it took was a few stares to make you feel like he was some A list celebrity giving you special treatment.

Maybe it was a little stupid the way you went about it, but the curiosity eating you up inside didn't have you thinking straight. Walking off into the woods was one thing, but at night? In woods so thick you could barely see your hand outstretched in front of you? Blindly trekking through the leaves in the mere hope that he'd follow you and make a move?

You hadn't had sex in way too long.

Yeah, that was it.

That's why you were making the decisions of a dumb bitch in a horror movie. But at least it was Daryl you were after, you knew you'd be fine if you ran into trouble.

You thought you'd be fine.

Emboldened by the darkness and privacy you'd secured for yourself, you approached him. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from panicking, the fear of rejection or a humiliating scolding almost made you change your mind.

Your eyes strained in the dark to make out the features of his face.

He looked almost expressionless, but there was something in his eyes, something that had your steady breathing turning into shuddering breaths coming from your mouth. His gaze looked like a textbook example of ‘dark’. Your heart felt like it was literally about to explode, and when you saw his upper lip barely twitch, you let out an accidental sigh, too exhilarated to feel embarrassed with yourself.

He was right in front of you then. You'd crossed every single inch of ground that separated you, and you could smell his signature scent of cigarettes, smoke, those spicy little mint leaves he'd chew on for his oral fixation. There was a hint of male musk as well, just barely there after a day walking outside in the woods.

You could see his chest rising and falling more dramatically now.

He was still dead silent, his eyes never leaving yours, even as you looked over every inch of him. You'd been biting your lip so hard it started to ache, and so you released it, your mouth opening to speak, you yourself unaware of what you planned to say.

The sound of Abraham’s whistle signal breaking through the thick silence had you feeling like you fell out of a plane. You sucked in a gasp and pulled your hand back from where it hung inches away from Daryl's chest.

Daryl's posture snapped into something so different it gave you whiplash. He was Daryl Dixon again, the sight so drastic you couldn't help but feel unnerved.

He whistled back before looking at you once more. It was still too dark to tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. “C'mon.”

Keeping his distance from people had never been a problem for Daryl. But what you did that night had permanently altered something inside him.

He didn't know if he wanted to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both.

You became his new favorite pastime.

When everyone fell asleep that night, he sat with his back against the same tree he'd been sitting under for hours, his eyes keeping their unwavering stance on your sleeping form. All the while he imagined hundreds of different things to do to you.

His mind kept going between strangling the life out of you, watching it bleed from your eyes. Or the other one, the image where he was burying his face between your legs with his tongue and teeth sucking and nipping, licking till it became too much and you begged him to stop.

He carefully planned out his next encounter with you over the course of days. He acted it out the night of a “party” at Aaron and Eric’s house, so focused on his plan he didn't even know what they were having a party for.

Daryl didn't care if you caught him staring anymore. That night in the woods he could practically smell how bad you wanted it, it didn't matter to him anymore if he disregarded all basic manners.

The last time there was a party in Alexandria was when Rick's group joined. Daryl hadn't gone to that one, the feeling of being an outdoor cat watching indoor cats eating their fancy wet food too much for him.

But he'd do anything to continue this little game with you. It was new, and there were no rules.

For the most part he was his usual self, sticking to the side and keeping enough casual conversation to blend in. The perfect balance between himself, and the part of him that imagined in great detail all the sounds you'd make.

He took a sip of the beer Aaron forced in his hands, his eyes looking back to you.

You looked like a fresh cut of meat just waiting for him to sink his teeth into.

The dress you wore hugged every single piece of your body, fitting you in a way that was almost poetic, but it was modest enough that it didn't draw unwanted attention. You were beside Rick most of the night, happily chatting and drinking champagne in a way that oozed confidence.

Every now and then you'd look at him, and he'd savor all the details of the way your confidence faded into something he didn't have a word for. You looked nervous, but hungry, like someone reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the pelt of a tamed predator.

Daryl wanted to bite that hand, hold it in his harsh jaws while your other one stroked his fur.

You played your part well, after most of the formal greetings and casual conversation had been taken care of you slipped out the back door.

He counted three minutes in his head before making his exit, which was stopped by Carol.

“Leaving already, huh?” She gave him a knowing smirk, unaware that her assumption he was just bored was incorrect. He'd never been more entertained.

“Yeah, shit ain't for me anyway.” He played along with a nonchalant shrug, pulling a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Done enough already just by comin’.”

Carol nodded, that smirk still on her face as she looked at the people standing around making friendly conversation. “Don't get into any trouble. Don't wanna help you hide bodies again.”

Daryl snorted, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. If there was anyone he'd come to for help hiding bodies it definitely would've been her. “Yeah yeah. Night Carol.” He gave her a pat on her shoulder before turning sideways to fit through the cracked door.

He hadn't expected you to be so good at this. He'd been prepared to walk down the steps of the porch and see you standing down the sidewalk, waiting for him like he was your prom date.

You weren't too good, though. He found you rather easily. The bottom of your heels left slight little indents in the dirt, leading between the houses, down the street, and right up to the sidewalk in front of your house.

His heart rate sped up a little when he remembered that house was completely empty, all but you.

Or so he thought.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. He checked every room, growing increasingly irritated when each one turned up nothing. He was about to give up and just head home when he checked your room one last time.

Something caught his eye, a blade of grass, his eyes followed the bits of grass to see those black heels sitting under your dresser, taking the place of your boots.

You tried to keep from anxiously picking at your fingernails as you stood behind the thick underbrush at the woodline, watching for any sign of movement along the outside walls.

There was a spot at the back wall near a platform no one really watched anymore, which is where the both of you had gone to leave without being seen.

You were beginning to think maybe you'd read him wrong. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that look he gave you at the party, it was impossible to describe. He was lacking any sort of expression, but in his eyes held this darkness that made swallowing your champagne hard when you'd seen it. The way he leaned against the wall near a group of people, his eyes steady and fixed on you, you could only decipher that as a look of craving for something he'd been wanting for a long time.

If you hadn't been looking at the Alexandrian walls, you would've missed it. For a split second you saw a flash of dark clothing, even darker hair, and you darted from your position behind the thickets.

Thankfully it wasn't as dark as that one night.

The sun had dipped down below the trees and out of sight, but it left just enough light for the sky to be a dark blue. The full moon made it even brighter, and soon you were in one of the houses right outside Alexandria.

You stood in the living room and waited. You'd already checked the house for walkers before this, not keen on the idea of a growling monstrosity of green and purple flesh ruining whatever might happen there when Daryl arrived.

If he arrived.

You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't coming. The heavy front door was open just a few inches, you'd wanted to be able to see him approach the house, to take him by surprise, maybe giving him the same fright he'd given you countless times.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. You felt that feeling again, like you were in danger, the feeling you might get being stalked by a large cat.

There was a breeze behind you, and you recognized it as a draft from the back window being opened.

Although it was happening behind you, your mind raced as you played out the scene. His hands bracing against the walls on either side of the window, his first leg dipping over like a spider emerging from its tunnel.

The tap of a boot meeting the wood floor under the window, so light and careful you almost didn't hear it. A second foot, he was in the house, only across the room from you. You held your breath as the footsteps drew near, slow, deliberate, you could tell just by the timing of his steps he was approaching you like a leopard closing in on a wounded deer. Confident, patient, nearly sadistic.

The feeling of his breath on your bare shoulder sent chills through your body and goosebumps down your arms. It was cold and barely there, you felt like if you turned around you'd be met with an empty house.

His fingers were just as light as his breath, tracing the thin dress strap over your shoulder, down and to the middle of your spine.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Daryl could be this confident in this way. He acted like every antagonist in a romance novel, dark and self-assured with every move he made.

You felt yourself relaxing as you leaned your back against his chest, feeling the leather of his vest on your skin, as well as the buttons on his black shirt.

The feeling of his hand snaking over your shoulder and up to your neck succeeded in sending every last drop of blood in your body down between your legs. You were fully prepared for the best slow, deep, mind-blowing sex of your life, but that quickly changed when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

It wasn't a firm and sexy squeeze, it was a ‘wait that's actually way too tight’ squeeze.

Your eyes shot back open but you tried to keep your cool, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab at his wrist.

Apparently, Daryl didn't like that.

He suddenly had your back pressed against the wall of the living room with movements so quick and precise it made your head spin. You looked up at his face, lit with a dim blue light from the windows, searching for any signs that would be cause for panic.

He decided to give you that reason you were looking for, and wrapped his hand around your neck again.

For once, Daryl wasn't fighting some internal battle on if he should kill you or not.

He'd made the decision as soon as he crept in the window and saw you standing in the living room, facing the front door and biting at your nails.

That decision wasn't final, though, you had the power in your hands to change his mind.

Hopefully you'd be as lucky as you always were.

He looked down at your face as he kept his one handed grip on your throat, burning the image in his mind. Your eyes were wide and full of this otherworldly beautiful fear, so much uncertainty it made his already hard cock twitch.

Your hands were still on his wrist, as if it gave you some sort of control, something he found endearing. You still trusted him, you still thought you had a chance to regain the control you thought you had this whole time.

“This what you wanted?” He breathed, looking from your eyes to your lips. Your face had turned a shade darker from his grip, your lips turning a pretty hue of red. “Wanted me to hunt you down, and then what? Huh?”

He watched for your reaction, waiting to see how you'd play the hand you'd been dealt, and to his pleasant surprise you managed to nod.

Daryl's hand loosened just enough to send the blood back to your head and you sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a trembling whimper.

His lips twitched into a soft smirk, and he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. You kissed him hungrily, swallowing the growl from his throat as your bare knee pressed against the aching bulge in his jeans. You moved it in firm circles, and he decided that earned a returned gesture.

He used his knee to roughly spread your thighs before giving you the same treatment. The whine that drew from your lips, and the way your eyes rolled back in your head, had him letting out a deep groan. He ground his knee up between your legs, long enough to feel the wetness seeping from your panties and through his jeans.

You didn't get a chance to tell him about the bed you'd cleaned upstairs for this. Which was unfortunate, given you'd gone out of your way to do so, not that he would've cared anyway.

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, fingers finding the zipper of your dress and unceremoniously pulling it down to your ass. Your heavy breathing fueled his desire and he grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking your dress down with his other hand so fast it burned.

With the grip he had in your hair he forcefully guided you onto the floor, releasing you only to settle between your thighs and slide his hands up your bare chest to his favorite part of you.

You got that look on your face again. Lust blown pupils, breathing softly through your mouth. You still hadn't figured it out yet, that you could very easily be in danger.

This time he used both hands.

A yelp got choked from your throat as he squeezed, allowing himself a few seconds to please himself. The white of your eyes turned a light pink at the edges, a few beads of tears forming there as well, the sight making his dick throb.

He released your neck and you gasped, sucking down lungfuls of air as your head spun. You felt like you were on a carousel the way you got so dizzy.

While you regained your bearings he unbuckled his belt and took out his dick, his right hand wasting no time in giving himself relief. You took the opportunity to slide off your panties, and when he saw the glistening of your wet folds in the deep blue lighting he growled. The sinful sound earned a whimper from you, and he refocused on your face to see a pitiful look of impatience.

Daryl switched to stroking himself with his left hand, and guided the tip up through your slick folds. He savored the way you looked then, biting your bottom lip as you prepared yourself.

Instead of giving the satisfaction he pulled his tip back and carried on fucking his hand. As soon as your eyes opened and you went to protest, his free hand went right back to your neck.

He loved the way you looked then, desperate and pathetic, so full of frustration it leaked out through tears in your eyes. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off blood and air to your brain, tugging his dick faster as you squirmed.

Daryl lifted up his knee to pin one of your thighs to the floor in an effort to keep you still. He took his hand away from his cock and spit in his palm, wasting no time in getting back to touching himself.

He could've easily come right there. If he wanted to, he could keep squeezing just a few more moments, and your squirming would've stopped. He could spill his load on your stomach and effortlessly slip into his cleanup routine, but aside from the fact that part of him didn't really want to kill you, the way you orgasmed had him fucking frozen.

He hadn't even touched you, but you came.

Your eyebrows scrunched together and the leg he didn't have pinned down wrapped around his waist, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to get friction against your clit. He relaxed his hand from your throat and you let out this bubbly whimpering sound that made his hips instinctively jerk forward.

Daryl watched you, holding his breath without realizing it. She just came from you chokin’ her. The words repeated over and over in his mind as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm.

He had to snatch his hand away from his dick to keep his own orgasm at bay. Not yet, not a chance in hell, not after you just did that. You deserved something for showing him the hottest thing he never would've thought possible.

His body went on autopilot. He slid down from your body, planting kisses in a trail from your neck to your naval, down to your thighs, then back up again. He buried his face between your legs, not giving you a moment's notice or time to recover. He swirled his tongue around your clit, grazing his teeth against it before sucking it between his lips.

You bucked against him like a wild horse, the stimulation so much your body didn't know how to react. It was desperate, finally getting some stimulation, but you'd just had a world shattering orgasm only seconds before. He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth again, his grip tight to keep you from squirming away again.

The only control you had was your ability to choose what to do with your hands. Your fingers wrapped around clumps of his hair, winding up so tight it made his scalp burn.

He growled in response and took your clit between his teeth, holding it there as a stern warning, only letting it go when you stopped pulling so damn hard.

If he had the power to freeze time for everything but the two of you, he would've eaten your pussy for hours. But he settled on just long enough to pull another orgasm from you, sliding the tip of his tongue from your throbbing clit to the new trail of slick cum dripping out of you.

Daryl didn't give you time to recover from that one either. As soon as your cry faded out he flipped you on your back, ignoring the yelp of protest you made when your hip bones dug into the hard floor beneath you.

The only warning he gave you before shoving his cock into you was a quick slide of his swollen tip between your puffy folds. Just right enough to lubricate the head, and then he drove it in.

The way you groaned in pain from the stretch almost made him cum right there. He stilled inside you, not for you to adjust but for him to fall back away from the edge. The benefit to you was just lucky.

“Fuck.” It was the first time in a while that he'd spoken, and it was solely due to the way your hot plush walls squeezed his dick like a fist.

He should've known you'd feel like that, he hadn't seen you with a man the entire time he'd known you. His chest shuddered with his ragged breaths, and once he was ready he put both hands flat on your upper back. He put his weight there, keeping him upright so he could lift his hips and fuck his dick into you with all his weight.

Your arms slid out in front of you, your hands grasping for something, anything, you needed something to hold onto.

He wouldn't grant you that kindness either. He rested his knees back on the floor on either side of your thighs and grabbed your arms, bending them painfully behind you. When he held your wrists together at the base of your spine he started fucking you again.

Each rough snap of his hips drove a whiney moan from you. He liked that a lot, it sounded similar to a different type of crying, and he slowed down to keep his dick from getting friction burns. While you used the opportunity to squirm under him in an attempt to get more comfortable he spit on his fingers, letting it drip onto the base of his cock before changing positions once again.

He moved your arms up over your head and laid down on top of you, the weight of him pressing down on your back pushing all the air from your lungs.

Your check rubbed against the floor as he started thrusting again, this time settling on a new pace, rough and fast despite the fact he barely drew his dick out. If he wasnt fucking you so roughly, the feeling of his head resting against yours would’ve given you butterflies. You became acutely aware of the closeness, there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies, and every grunt and groan he made had his lips brushing up against the side of your ear.

He used his hips to grind his dick inside you, the new motion drawing filthy gasps and whines from you from the way his tip seemed to roll and dig into each and every crevice inside you. You'd never felt anything like that before, so used to the normal thrusting. He only pulled back about an inch, rolling his hips in a way that had you shamelessly moaning.

Daryl moved your hair from the back of your neck, pushing it up and away before leaning down to dig his teeth into the skin right at the base of your neck. He bit hard, something you didn't expect, and you cried out in pain, your body jerking under him.

It was hard for you to breathe with his full weight on your back. The heat of his body gave you uncomfortable hot flashes, adding to the sweat you'd already made. Your hair stuck to your forehead and you made an attempt to push it off, which was made difficult when he changed paces once again.

He started drawing out further now, but he'd just drive back in harder, faster, causing your body to grind roughly against the wood floor. The skin over your hip bones started to burn as well as your nipples, something you found almost agonizing but shamefully pleasurable at the same time.

He fucked you like that until you came for the third time, now around his dick. He pushed himself off your back and used his hands on your shoulders to keep you pinned down, watching as he breathed through his mouth at the way his cock disappeared inside you.

You were lucky he felt like a new position.

He waited until you stopped writhing under him from your orgasm before grabbing your thigh to turn you on your back.

Relief washed over you as the pain in your hip bones faded, only to have that relief taken from you when he grabbed your waist and yanked you up and off the floor.

Your feet didn't even touch the ground, your body swaying as you tried to get a sense of gravity, Daryl's hands tight on your sides as he took you to the couch.

All you could do at that point was relax and let him move your body for you, your hands shaking against your chest as he sat you on the arm of the couch. You let him push you down on your back, your ass and legs dangling over the arm for a few dizzying seconds before he grabbed your legs and held them around his waist.

Daryl pushed his dick back in your abused pussy and groaned, gripping your thighs tighter so he could pull you closer to him.

Your back arched almost uncomfortably, your hips angled up against his pelvis, the only part of your back that touched the cushions of the couch ended up being your shoulders. You were thankful you could at least breathe now.

Daryl was skilled at taking small bits of relief like that away.

He leaned down and bit your already sore nipple so hard and so suddenly you nearly shouted. Your hands instinctively went to grab his hair for support, but he leaned back and your fingers fell from his face.

He was proud of the new angle. Your pelvis tilted up and him fucking down into you sent him as deep as possible, and soon he began fucking you rough enough that it bordered closely on too painful.

Lucky for you, you liked it. Your walls burned pleasurably from the dragging of his dick, and he started speaking again.

“Look at you, dirty little whore.” He teased as he looked down at your abused body with a grin. Your nipples and hips were red from him fucking you into the floor, your neck equally as red from the force of his hands.

Your sweet, sweet pretty face, twisted up in a mix of pleasure and pain, your cheeks red, your lips swollen, streaks of black makeup running down your face. The sight made him seriously consider picking up drawing, because that look was, without a doubt, the best thing he'd seen in his entire life.

“Daryl,” You finally plucked the courage to speak to him and he raised a brow, impressed, he'd gotten used to you taking it so well without any complaints. “Too much.” Your voice broke as you whined, another orgasm bringing you to shambles.

He snorted as he watched you come around his dick yet again, your words asking for mercy but your body clearly asking him otherwise.

“You can take a little more, yeah?” Even he was becoming spent, his heart banging in his chest so hard he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his hands down your sweaty chest to your breasts, his dick twitching inside you at the way you cried when he pinched that same sore nipple.

“I don't know,” Another wave of shivers overcame you, eliciting exhausted, long and shaky whines. Your body couldn't process going a little under two years with little to no sexual activity, and then suddenly being mind numbingly overstimulated with the most exhilarating sex you'd ever had in your life. Each time you thought you'd gotten used to it he'd pull the rug out from under you, either by causing pain or giving you more pleasure that you knew what to do with.

As if on cue you felt his flattened hand smack the side of your face, demanding your focus. Your eyes struggled to find him, your vision fuzzy and wobbly, but when you looked up and saw him your heart fluttered.

“Look at me. C'mon.” He didn't want you passing out on him, that took all the fun away.

Despite the obvious fact he had a clear disregard for your comfort or discomfort, the way he was looking down at you sent butterflies through your stomach and chest. His pupils were so blown with lust that you couldn't see the pretty color of his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy with the approach of his orgasm. His lips, glistening from the way his tongue had darted out to wet them, parted as he huffed in ragged breaths.

You could tell if he had a picture of you like this, he'd be reacting the same way with just his hand. The thought had a moan bubbling past your lips.

“C'mon.” His hips snapped forward roughly, jerking in a break from his steady aggressive rhythm. You cried out from that, your hands finding the sides of his dangling belt to grab onto like the reins of a horse.

He'd held back his orgasm as long as he could, but the sight of you shaking and trembling under him, exhausted and overstimulated, he couldn't last much longer. Your face twisted in discomfort as he fucked you faster again, your hips suddenly doing their best to wiggle up and away from the frenzy of his dick.

You'd managed to get a few short moments of relief, sliding backwards until his dick nearly slid out.

His upper lip curled in disbelief, and he shook his head, scoffing at you. “Don't be a baby, you can take it.” You were yanked back down on his dick, the sensation of being forced back into overstimulation had you moaning in distress.

You nodded your head feverishly, setting your jaw as you looked up at the ceiling, trying your best to keep it together. But each time his hips would ram into yours it made his crotch slam against your clit, and it got too much, your breathing sped up as the panic of overstimulation set in. You really tried then, actually tried to wiggle away, and to your surprise, and much needed relief, he stilled his hips.

You were expecting him to maybe find a better way to restrain you, or put you in a position you couldn't move from, but he just used the moment to catch his breath before his demeanor changed completely.

“Hey, hey, shh.” The sweetness in his tone made you whimper, your eyes falling closed as he comforted you. It felt so fucking good, you found yourself willing to do anything and everything to feel that tenderness some more. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” He cooed as your breathing slowed and your fingers stopped shaking.

Daryl released your thighs and with unexpected ease, he slipped his hands under the arch in your back, picking you up and moving so he could sit down on the couch, keeping you stuck on his cock the entire time.

The new position of being on top sent a fresh wave of pleasure flipping in the bottom of your stomach, the tip of his dick pressed right at the end of your walls.

It wasn't painful like you'd felt before when your cervix was accidentally hit too hard, quite the opposite, the feeling of pressure was so strangely good you found yourself pushing down with all your weight, desperate to feel more.

Daryl tossed his head back with a grunt at the feeling, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting it. His hands took their place on your hips, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin there.

He'd only switched to this position because his legs were getting unsteady, but the way you looked above him was something he didn't expect to enjoy as much as he did.

He took a second to catch his breath before he planted his boots firmly on the floor, pressing his back against the couch, and when he was perfectly leveraged he used his hands to keep your waist hovering above him, using the angle to fuck his dick up into you so hard you immediately came again.

The way you came for the fourth time made his jaw drop.

He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, taking in every second of it as he breathed through his open mouth. The way your face tensed up in twisted concentration, and then the way it dropped as you fell apart, your mouth falling open with a guttural moan that put every single goddamn porn video he'd seen to shame. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your mouth hung open in such a beautiful ‘O’, he broke.

He let go of your waist so your full weight would slam down on his cock and he came, his head tilted back against the couch, his dark hair falling away from his face.

You watched his face the same way he'd watched yours, rolling your hips down against him as you drew out every wave of the strongest orgasm you'd ever had. He looked fucking beautiful. You'd do everything in your power to get him like this again, but this time with your camera.

His orgasm literally shook him. He clenched the skin over your hips in a tight grip, using it to keep you as tight as possible against him. In those few seconds his mind went blank, almost devolving him into an animal. Those instincts wanted to keep you there on top of him, so he did, rolling his pelvis to fuck his cum deeper into you.

Daryl held you there until way after he came down from his high, only releasing his grip on your skin when he felt his dick grow soft.

You couldn't move off him if you tried. Your legs felt like you'd lost all muscle mass, same with your arms. Your body slumped forward and you fell against his chest, your nipples burning as they rubbed against his shirt and vest.

His arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing your body tight against his, his hips giving a few last weak rolls up against you.

It took you both a while to catch your breath, the mouth breathing leaving the two of you uncomfortably thirsty.

He made the first move when he realized you couldn't, and he slid your body off of his into the seat beside him. He sat there for a few more seconds before he carefully put his tender dick back in his pants.

His belt buckle clinked noisily as he fastened it, his fingers shaky and inaccurate. He watched as you slowly rose to your feet and grabbed your panties, the rising and falling of his chest gradually slowing.

The sight of you struggling to climb into your dress had him feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. He chewed on the skin around his thumb, watching you slip your feet into your boots before you leaned against the wall next to the front door.

You looked at it and faltered, realizing that the two of you had been pretty loud. When you looked back to him with a concerned expression you were just met with an uncaring smirk, the man now on his feet and wiping the sweat from his face with the top of his shirt. He grabbed his crossbow from the floor and flung it over his shoulder before leading you back home.

@ophelialaufey

313 notes · View notes

sareeen · 6 months

Text

The charm of snow

Based on this request. :)

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Azriel surprises his wife at home and fulfils a childhood dream of her.

Warnings: fluff, mention of abuse, sweet, playful husband Azriel

Masterlist

A/N: Hope you like it! This is part 2 of Unknown Touches for a Lady, but it can be a standalone. (Here –> Part 1)

English is not my first language, sorry for any mistake! :)

—————————••••••••••••—————————

Azriel was attentive.

Y/N only really realised this when the clock struck quarter past three and the man suddenly stepped through the door with a slight, sweet smile on his face.

Y/N was lying on the sofa, almost swallowed up by one of the soft blankets, looking at her husband with a sleepy, surprised expression.

She quickly straightened and ran a hand through her hair, but winced as she caught her finger in one of the tangled strands.

She hadn't expected him, Azriel was busy with the Court's affairs, so Y/N had mostly only met him in the late hours, when thousands of stars shone in the sky. They had been married for three weeks and were still getting used to each other's closeness.

They hadn't slept together since their wedding night.

There had been a few coy kisses, a gentle peck on the cheek and a brief double-sided hug. Every night Y/N waited for Azriel to knock on the door of her bedroom, but all she heard were footsteps pausing for a second and then moving quickly on outside her door.

It was as if each time he restrained himself from knocking.

But now he stood there, his wings and muscular shoulders almost filling the doorframe. There seemed to be a restrained glint in his eyes as he spoke.

“It's snowing.”

Y/N's eyes widened and a surprised sound escaped her, then she rushed to the huge window overlooking the street and pulled the curtains.

Huge flakes of snow fell from the sky, the light wind carried them in a thousand directions, turning the landscape white.

Happy, screaming children rushed out of one of the buildings holding something in their hands – some with scarves, others with carrots.

“Shall we go outside?” asked Azriel quietly behind her. “We could go for a walk.”

Y/N's eyes watered and she sniffled, barely audible.

Ever since she was a little girl, she'd longed to see a snowfall - to feel the sensation of snow on her skin.

Two weeks ago, after a dinner, the subject came up between her and Azriel about what she would like to see of the outside world and the first thing she said was snowfall.

Her husband remembered and came straight home to get her. He's going to go with her and make her dream come true.

Warmth flooded her chest, her heart just fluttering with gratitude and happiness as she turned and nodded.

“Yes” her throat tightened with emotion as she said the words. “I really want to go outside.”

She almost flew to the rack, grabbed her coat and awkwardly wrapped her thick, fluffy scarf around her neck. She tucked her feet into the boots, but she was so scrambled that she would have fallen if Azriel hadn't caught her right arm and held her.

“Here we go, I'm ready!” she looked up at the spymaster, who grinned as Y/N blushed.

She was being too silly, she realized.

“Not yet” he shook his head serenely.

Y/N watched with furrowed brows as Azriel pulled a knitted cap from behind his back and pushed it on her head. It was so warm that within moments Y/N could feel herself beginning to sweat underneath and her hair sticking to her forehead.

“Now, you are ready”

Azriel opened the door for her and put his hand on her back to lead her out into the street.

An icy, shivering wind hit their faces and Y/N took a deep breath, letting the feeling wash over her. Her cheeks were almost tingling from the cold, but the wide grin still sat on her face.

Another first time.

She tilted her head up and closed her eyes. The tiny snowflakes found their way and caressed her cheek, and within moments melted away to leave her skin wet.

She reached out and looked at her palms, gazing at the six-pointed, star like snowflakes. They were beautiful, like tiny transparent crystals.

The touch of them left an icy, tingling sensation in her fingers, but it was all the more wonderful.

“Do you like it?” Azriel whispered in her ear as he placed a snow ball in her hand.

Y/N just stared at the ball.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Y/N asked, puzzled, and Azriel grunted.

“Throw it away” he suggested in a mischievous tone. “Maybe at him.”

Y/N looked in the direction where the shadowsinger was pointing and was stunned.

“I'm not going to throw a child!” she blurted out immediately and elbowed Azriel in the side, who laughed and dodged the hit.

The snow crunched under Y/N's boots as she took a few steps forward and in a sudden burst of excitement spun around and aimed at Azriel. Targeting the combat-skin covered chest, she pulled her arm back and swung. The snowball flew towards Azriel at high speed and then it was on target.

It hit her husband squarely in the face.

The shadowsinger was knocked backwards by the blow, while Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth in fright and turned pale.

“Cauldron” she hurried over to him and quickly brushed the snow off his handsome face, which was slightly flushed.

“I am so, so sorry, Azriel. Please don't be angry with me! I swear I was aiming for your chest.”

She felt fear flooding every inch of her body and anxiety clenched her stomach. Azriel may have been nice, but no man would tolerate being humiliated like that by his wife in the middle of the street.

When the spymaster raised his hand, Y/N hunched her shoulder and tensed in preparation for the punch, then closed her eyes.

But the pain and the sharp snap of his palm failed to register, so she gingerly peeked out from under her lashes and looked at her husband.

Azriel watched her with a frown, pity shining in his eyes. But at the same time, something ancient and destructive rage lingered in him, and Y/N winced again.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” inquired Azriel, his voice almost lost in the howling wind.

Y/N could only manage a small nod and tried to swallow the lump in her throat that made her feel like she was choking.

“I –“ Y/N cleared her throat and blew out a shaky breath. “I would understand.”

She hung her head, eyed the tiny embroidered designs on her black boots and waited for Azriel's reaction. But he just stood there motionless, which almost drove Y/N crazy.

“Can you please say something?” she blurted out nervously.

Azriel suddenly cupped her face in both hands and forced Y/N to look up at him. Her husband's face looked as if it had been carved from stone, his beautiful features now looking sharper in the wintry landscape.

“Y/N” his thumb ran over her skin in a soft, caressing motion. Gently, so gently that Y/N's breath caught in her lungs. “Look into my eyes.”

The golden-brown gaze almost burned Y/N's face and she found it hard not to turn her head.

“I'll never hit you” Azriel declared with firm determination and promise radiated from every inch of his body. “I swear it. I will cut off my hand before I lay a hand on you. Understand?”

“Yes” Y/N whispered.

“I don't want you to be afraid of me. You are my wife and so I want you to feel safe and comfortable with me.”

Azriel pulled his knife from the sheath hanging at his side and placed it in Y/N's hand, then shook her grip. The cool, murderous steel gave her chills.

“But if anyone hurts you, kill them with this,” he murmured quietly. “And those who have laid a hand on you in the past years, I will be the one to deal with.”

Y/N couldn't even speak as Azriel leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss tasted of anger, sorrow, and promise, and it pulled her off her feet and clung to Azriel's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his hand holding her tightly by the waist, almost devouring her.

Azriel's lips were warm on hers, his tongue begging for entrance. Y/N opened her lips and their tongues intertwined, following each other's dance sweetly.

They broke away from each other, both gasping for breath and Y/N was almost certain she was going to faint. A hotness flooded her guts and Azriel took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Let's go, darling.”

They walked hand in hand past the rows of shops and Y/N was still dazed from the kiss and the events that had just taken place.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they had been walking for a few minutes and she could gather her thoughts.

The city was beautiful, with wreaths and red bows decorating the streets everywhere. Snow was falling heavily from the sky, making the roofs of the houses look like they had been sprinkled with icing sugar.

Azriel didn't answer, but went into one of the shops and pulled her along behind him.

The little bell above their heads rang, the heat inside hit Y/N and she inhaled the scent of cinnamon. It was a tiny, cluttered room and she tried to make out what all the wooden stuff was, leaving almost no room for a mug.

The shadowsinger picked up one of them, a very large one with a string hanging from one half, and approached the vendor to pay.

Afterwards he turned to her with a smile of such delight that she was unable not to smile back.

“Come.”

He led her to a back door and outside they found themselves at the top of a hill.

Y/N looked down at the long, snow covered ground and looked expectantly at her husband, who had set the wooden thing down and was patting the top.

“Sit on it,” Azriel commanded kindly, and Y/N immediately sat down. She had no idea what this was going to turn into.

“So we're looking at the scenery?” she asked him, but she looked around cheerfully. “I like it.”

Azriel gave a hearty laugh and sat down behind her. Her back was against his muscular, warm chest, which made her feel relaxed and she was about to nestle into his embrace when Azriel began to squirm.

He pulled his wing up so it didn't touch the snowy ground and handed Y/N the rope that connected to the front of the structure.

“Hold on!”

With that, he swung his legs into momentum and kicked away, and they started down the drop.

The breakneck speed and the snow in her face made Y/N scream, but Azriel just laughed behind her and wrapped his huge body around her. The trees blurred in her vision and her ears whistled because of the wind, but somehow she began to enjoy the rush.

There was something liberating about hurtling to the bottom of the hill, leaving all her troubles behind for a moment and just enjoying it.

“Pull the rope!” shouted Azriel, his voice deep and wonderful in her ear.

Y/N leaned back slightly, straight into her husband and tightened the rope, causing them to slow down.

Eventually the contraption they were sitting on stopped as they got down to the field and just sat there quietly for a few moments while Azriel stood up.

I've been married to a child, Y/N thought to herself in amazement, but there was a bubbling joy inside her.

The shadows surrounding Azriel crept fiercely around his ears and his eyes brightened.

“I heard that” he smiled wryly. “That's not what I remember you thinking on our wedding night.”

Y/N playfully, but laughing, nudged Azriel's leg, who began to pull her up the hill.

“What do you call this thing?” Y/N asked, laying her feet on the two long wooden planks.

“Sledge” Azriel replied and repositioned the sledge just as before. “We're sledding, Y/N”

He pulled back a little and grabbed the back of the sled. The scarred hands, tanned face and golden brown eyes evoked feelings in Y/N that she couldn't even express.

Maybe she could.

She would have loved to throw herself on him and do all the things she had done on their wedding night.

“Be careful and pull the rope like before” Azriel suggested and Y/N panicked.

“What?”

However, Azriel started to run and gave a big push, releasing the sledge, and Y/N started to race back down into the deep.

She screamed as if Azriel had sent her to her death - though that wasn't far from the truth.

She yanked on the rope, but lost her balance and fell sideways in front of the field, off the sled and rolled for a few moments, then, face down in the snow, came to a stop.

She heard the flapping of wings and Azriel's desperate voice, but her shoulder was already shaken.

He rolled her towards him and laughter burst out of her. She kept tearing and clutching her stomach, then managed to speak.

“Oh, I was so scared!” she wiped her face. “But let's do it again!”

Azriel sighed in relief, but smiled sweetly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Don't scare me like that anymore.”

They sledged until dark and Y/N's lips were almost frozen in a grin by the time they got home.

She had never been so happy in her life.

She wanted to cling to Azriel and never let go. Her heart began to beat faster when he escorted her to her room in their flat and pressed a long, honey sweet kiss to her lips.

“Azriel?” she toyed with the strands of sultry, slightly curling hair that frizzled at the top of his neck.

“Yes?” The spymaster murmured and ran his hand soothingly up and down Y/N's back.

“Thank you.”

The shadowsinger looked down at her and Y/N's legs trembled at the golden brown gaze.

“Me too” he replied, then stepped back and walked towards his own room.

Y/N sank her teeth into her bottom lip and hesitated.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” he turned to her immediately.

It was as if the shadows had already whispered Y/N's question to him and he was just waiting for her to ask it.

Y/N looked over him, took in his muscular frame, his charming face, and felt a warmth flood over her.

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

“To sleep?” Azriel's lips twitched in amusement.

“We don't have to sleep.”

Y/N giggled as he moved towards her, gasping for air as he almost pushed her into the room with his imposing body.

The door closed behind them with a loud slam.

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thrones and roses #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you

686 notes · View notes

f1amour · 17 days

Text

✧˚ · . 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

warnings: angst (but happy ending <3), miscommunication , age gap (reader is 26 daniel is 35), jealous!daniel

authors note: very short and sweet part two of dirty little secret sorry it took me awhile to put it out, i was getting some writers block so it was a very rushed plot but it’s a happy ending hopefully that makes it up <3 i may write some small blurbs to this series since i really enjoyed writing this request but writing a full fic can take me some time and i hate keeping people waiting

part one

─────────────────────────

MARCH 2025

It's been a year since you had last spoken to Daniel and while you see him around the paddock it wasn't the same. Despite being heartbroken from that night on the balcony and his words that cut into your heart you still sent him a congratulatory text when it was announced he would be racing for Red Bull along Max once again in the 2025 season.

It had been something he talked to you about hoping he could prove himself once again to a team he regrets ever leaving. The text was left on read for days until you received a one word response from him, "Thanks."

His response and behavior for the rest of the 2024 season was killing you and you decided you would never speak to him again. He didn't seem phased by that when you had seen him with a new girl at your brother's engagement party.

You wanted to hate him. Your mind hated him but your heart…oh your silly heart would always belong to him.

"I…I don't understand. You worked with us for two years now and you said working here was your dream after leaving Mclaren. Why are you going to Ferrari?" Max asks disappointed while you sit with him in your office.

You stare at Max and give him a smile with tears in your eyes, "I can't be around him, Max. I'll have to be around him 24/7 for social media duties and my heart can't take the pain seeing him act like I didn't even matter to him as a friend."

And I can't bear to see him with her.

Max can see this wasn't just an argument about Daniel being a shitty friend, no he knew something more had happened even though Daniel refused to tell him he knew deep down something more had happened between the two of you.

"I'm gonna miss you." He says truthfully, you had actually made his days where he would have to film and post things for social media fun. Max saw your passion for the job and knew it was better to do it in an environment where both drivers would make her feel appreciated.

─────────────────────────

Going into the 2025 season was a breath of fresh air you hadn't felt in awhile and you were doing well on the Scuderia Ferrari team, getting close to both Charles and Lewis had helped heal the sadness you had carried over you.

You were finally moving on despite still being in love with someone who would never love you.

Your brother was at the first race of the season to support Daniel at his home race and back with Red Bull. You hadn't seen him in months so despite knowing Daniel would be at the restaurant Luka had reserved you went to finally catch up with your brother.

"Seriously, you look glowing. You sure there isn't a man in your life being that reason for the smile on your face?" Luka's fiance, Amelia asks you while you take another sip of your second glass of wine.

Daniel's expression falls when he hears her question towards you and your brother focuses on the now interesting topic regarding your love life, "Oh do tell dear sister? Finally got yourself a man?"He jokes with you, only for you to slap his head.

"No you dingus. The only men in my life are Charles and Lewis." You tell them with a straight face until you say Lewis's name and you break out in a smile.

"No fucking way! You and Hamilton?! Danny why didn't you tell me about this?" Your brother questions Daniel.

Daniel stares at you for a moment but you look away not seeing the sadness in his eyes, "Uh I didn't know they were together." He says flatly.

You roll your eyes and glare at the Australian, "No one said we were together."”

"Well the way you fucking smile over hearing his name seems like there is something there." He spits back. The table now grows silent tension obviously between the two of you.

"What's going on with the both of you? You used to be so close. I was shocked to see you leave Red Bull even though Daniel would be back on the team. Remember in 2019 when they offered you–."

"Fuck off Luka! People change and grow up. I did what was best for my career not to follow your boyfriend around.” You cut your brother off from revealing something you had kept from Daniel for years now.

"Please you're the one who's been in love with him for five years." He scoffs, his face drops after saying those words realizing the mistake he had made.

Daniel looks over at you, "What…what did he just say?"

You stand up from the table and throw the glass of wine you hsd left on your brother, "Best big brother ever!" You walk away from the dinner table and avoid the stares from other people.

"Y/n! Y/n wait up! We need to talk what he said back there–."

"Now you want to talk? After a year of ignoring me, you want to talk now? Well sorry but I don't have time for you anymore." You send Lewis a quick text asking to pick you up with an immediate reply saying he would be there in five minutes.

"He said you love me…was it the truth?"”

"Fuck danny I mean everyone could fucking tell but you! Yes…I loved you. Loved. I don't love you now, I don't love the Daniel in front of me. The Daniel I love would have never done what you did to me. What did you call me again? Oh, a dirty little secret? That's all I would ever be."

Daniel shakes his head holding back tears, “That’s…look my wording for that was fucking terrible. But I promise what you feel I feel as well. Fuck I lo—.”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it, Daniel. I’ve loved you for so long that I would forgive everything that has happened if you tell me you love me. But that isn’t fair to me. You have been terrible to me since that night. You’ve ignored me like i meant nothing. As if we weren’t friends before that night. I’m sorry but please don’t tell me you love me when your actions have shown the opposite. Good luck this weekend.” Your heart was hurting as you said the words but it was needed. If Daniel said he loved you then you would forgive everything and you can’t do that to yourself.

─────────────────────────

It was media day for the Australian GP and Daniel hadn’t been able to sleep ever since you told him you loved him two days ago. He fucked up and he knew that but he also knew that he does love you.

His actions so far may not be proving that but he now has it set in his mind that he will prove to you how much he loves you.

“So I’m gonna ride in the car while Lewis drives and I ask questions?” You ask Charles who nods placing the helmet on you.

“Why aren’t you doing that? It would make more sense and I could get better content with both of you.” You tell Charles but he just shakes his head.

“No it’ll be fun just trust me. Now go!” He smiles widely shoving you into the car with Lewis already in the car.

You sigh and grab your planner going to the Noah where you had questions ready, “Alright Lewis, you better drive safe I wanna get back in one piece. So where do we—.”

The car takes off quickly and your planner falls to the floor, “Lewis slow down!” You yell at the Brit but when you look over you realize it’s not Lewis driving the car but Daniel.

“Daniel! I…what are—.”

“I love you! I’ve been in love with you for quite some time now. I met you in the Redbull headquarters looking lost on your first day and I knew you would mean something to me. I…I don’t believe in love at first sight but when I first saw you I felt a pull and an instant connection I never felt with anyone else. Our conversation flowed so well and god your smile…your fucking smile made my entire day. It makes me happy every single day of my life seeing that precious smile on your beautiful face. So when I realized I was the reason for the frown on your face and not seeing that smile on your face because of me for a year…I was a fucking idiot. An idiot who has been scared to love because of their own insecurities. I wanted to tell you for so long how I felt, sunshine. But when we were at McLaren I was living a fucking nightmare. A nightmare you helped me survive despite all the trauma they’ve left me and so I thought that confessing my feelings you’d leave me and I don’t know if I could survive not having you in my life.”

His eyes filed with tears still driving at a safe pace knowing you were in the car. His breath shaking at the mention of the team who crushed his confidence, your hand reaches over to his thigh and you give it a squeeze encouraging him to continue.

“But I was also conflicted with being your brother’s best friend. I thought it was could lose our friendship but that’s when I realized if he was my friend he would support us. Which he does…I asked him after dinner the other day what he would think and he says I’m an idiot for ever holding these feelings back. Because I met you first you were my best friend way before he was. You are the love of my life. You…I have to look you in the eyes. Fuck this.” He stops the car and gets out quickly running to your side and helping you out of the car and taking your helmet off along with his.

His hands cup your face, “Danny, there’s people that could be watching.” You whisper softly looking into his brown eyes.

“I don’t care. I’m in love with you. I love you. I love the way your eyes light up when someone is telling you some good news. I love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. I love the way you cry every time we watch a romcom and the characters admit they’re in love with each other. I love how passionate you are for your friends and family. I love how you marched down into the Mcalren office and gave Zak a piece of your mind after they ended my contract. I love that you love me so deeply you denied working for Red Bull as the social media manager in 2019 because I would be gone the following year. Your eyes. Your smile. Your lips. Your hands. I’m in love with every part of you and more. I want you in my life forever. I want to come home with you and tell you how my day went. I want to share my highs and lows with you. I’m going to love you for the rest of my life whether you choose to have me in your life or not. As long as I’m alive you’ll always be loved by me.” Daniel lets out a deep breath finishing his confession and looking down at you waiting for a response. His heart beating 10 times more than if’s usual rate.

“I…I love you, Daniel. I love you so much it hurts me. I was such an idiot for not saying it sooner. So many wasted years we could have been together. You’re my life, baby. I breathe for you. I live for you. I could stay in your arms forever. You’ve showed me unconditional love as a friend but now I want more. Your smile brings sunshine in my darkest days. I want to love you for the rest of my life as well. Together and forever.” You ignore the cheers from half of the drivers that had all ran down the track to see why the car had stopped but seeing Daniel pulling you closer to him gave them an indication it was all good news.

“Let’s give them a show, sunshine.” Daniel whispers against your lips before pulling you into a deep kiss. Missing his lips after a year you pull him closer if that’s even possible, your hands tugging on his hair.

“If you tug on my hair some more I’m gonna get a boner in front of everyone.” He says against yours lips.

“Danny!” You slap his chest, pulling away from him only for him to lift you up and wrap your legs around him.

“Fucking hell mate took you guys long enough to finally admit your feelings.” Max says walking up to the two of you.

“Shut it, Maximilian.” You glare at him before smiling over at Charles and Lewis who were walking over to you with the biggest grins on their faces.

“Oh I’m going to give you guys do the most annoying challenges for the socials next week. How dare you set me up?” You get off Daniel to walk over to them, Daniel stays attached to you though.

The two Ferrari drivers shrug, “He called me last night to find out what our relationship was before he told me the plan he had to confess his feelings. I had to laugh when he thought we were dating.” Lewis chuckles.

You join him and look at Daniel, “Come on baby, you really thought me and Lewis were together? I smiled at his name the other night because the same night he had called me before dinner saying he got stuck in the car…turns out Charles had his keys and kept locking the door on him so he couldn’t get out. But it’s cute you were jealous.” You pinch his cheeks.

“I’m so getting you back for that.” Lewis glares at Charles who decides this was his best chance to run off.

Daniel smiles down at you, “I love you.”

You kiss him softly, “I love you, always.”

─────────────────────────

#f1 amour works #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo

234 notes · View notes

freckliedan · 4 months

Note

if they're both out, then why bother hiding their relationship / stuff like sharing a room and going on couple holidays? surely all of their fans know that they're together so i don't get the point of buying a home with 2 bedrooms and having a fake apartments? sorry very confused very casual fan here

hi!!! i am always so happy to share information, so ty for asking me about it! i'm going to take these questions piece by piece ^_^

if they're out why bother hiding: most of the examples of them taking serious steps to hide their relationship are from before they came out! they have been together since 2009, but dan wasn't even out to his family until 2019, shortly before he came out publicly.

why not come out sooner than that? i'll try to be brief and avoid rehashing dan's entire coming out video (which is worth watching). several reasons: he was severely bullied from early childhood onward for being gay—from before he even had the chance to consider if he was actually gay. his dad was homophobic to the point dan seems to have removed him from his life completely, & he was raised by religious grandparents so unsure of the reception there.

and significantly: he and phil were outed by a youtube glitch that leaked an extremely personal video in 2011 that leaked again on a broader scale about a year later. being outed was a part of the bullying dan had experienced so this was retraumatizing but on a bigger scale.

they had had SOME level of plausable deniability regarding their relationship before the leak, but hadn't been very actively closeting themselves before that point? and then the leak happened around when they were blowing up in popularity/around when youtube was becoming a viable career, so they were already grappling with sudden fame & a lot of other things happening in their lives at the time.

dan was 20 and phil was 24 the first time that video leaked; they were 21 and 25 and living in an apartment they couldn't afford on their own hoping the bbc would hire them (they did) the second time it did. it makes sense that they came down hard & firmly closeted themselves, especially dan, especially with what he's shared of his personal experiences.

2012-13 was the peak closet, but by 2015 they were already being more open—that's the first couple's trip they went on again after active closeting started. they've just become more and more open from there, but the peak closet era was so definitive that the public perception of them as not a couple WILL NOT SHIFT until they directly express that they are a couple.

they ARE out to fans as a couple, and imo have been since before they came out individually. they've said things along the lines of "we know you know" multiple times.

why not be definitive about their relationship status when they came out? it would've overshadowed them coming out as individuals and they didn't want that. it will be MASSIVE news when they hard launch their relationship. they went ambiguous with it on purpose in 2019 and succeeded.

so. to circle back to your questions.

why bother hiding their relationship? they haven't really since coming out. they've been living freely and being open about that in whatever ways are comfortable to them. they took some time out of the public eye for a while and i'm glad they got to have that so they could explore what happiness looks like without feeling the need to perform. but it was also something that was intentionally temporary!

at this point in time when they call each other friends or roommates etc they're fully doing a bit. like. it's funny! and it's funny at our expense which makes it even funnier—it's their turn to put us through some shit, you know? & the joke is more on people who AREN'T familiar with them than anyone else at this point. it's nice being in on things with them.

why hide sharing a bedroom? they haven't really since moving into their forever home! they have a bedroom and a guest room and there's a murphy bed in phil's filming space/personal office.

phil at some point made a comment that the murphy bed is for if they have two guests over at the same time—something that will only really read as "they share a bedroom" to people keeping track of rooms in their house.

i don't think that they share a bed they sleep in 100% of the time. which is like, normal and healthy? being able to sleep in a different bed when you want/need is NICE i've known so many people who keep seperate rooms in committed relationships and if i was rich enough i'd love having two bedrooms with beds in them in my relationship. even if we'd mostly sleep in the same place.

i also think having multiple beds means dan and phil can have freak sex in one and be lazy about clean up bc they have other beds so that's. a plus for them too.

but like. yeah. i think it's less that they're hiding that they share a bedroom and more that they share a bedroom but have better boundaries with their audience at this point—there stopped being video liveshows after they came out and they'd stopped doing liveshows from their actual bedroom when they moved in to the separate apartment situation.

+ the separate apartment situation was ONLY ever meant to be short term, & was a solution to the situation before that, when every room was in videos and it permanently felt like they were living in sets.

why hide couple holidays? they haven't since before coming out! they also go on a lot of double dates.

no sorries on the confusion and thank you for the chance to infodump!

#ARIES WILL ALSO MOST LIKELY RB THIS WITH A COMMENT.#anon #history #phan #dan and phil #bedroom #bedrooms #two flat theory #jam replies

299 notes · View notes

uranometrias · 3 months

Text

wait for your love, spencer reid (pt. 2)

this is the second part to this. tysm for all the love on the first part, as well as all the new follows. this literally took so long, and i'm literally so sorry. i suck, but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. xx

you can read the alternate version for jj right here.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: following the dismissal of the case against the bureau, you're trying to get back into the swing of things. that moment of realization that comes with discovering the love you feel for someone else isn't reciprocates is never fun. but it's a truth you're meant to accept nonetheless, with a bit of help from your dearest friend spencer, you find that through a conversation about the realities of music and their hidden messages getting the courage to move on is not quite as difficult as you might have initially thought. especially when there's someone like spencer reid waiting on the other side. except of course, things always get difficult when it seems now as you're moving on, the past object of your desires is believed to feel the same way you always have.

content warnings: this is the sequel to angst lol. it's still very kind of angsty, but not as bad! it doesn't exactly end with spence/reader running off into the distance together, but i think it has a very bittersweet & sort of hopeful ending, which i felt made the most sense for a storyline like this. sometimes people have feelings for people that don't like them back, and sometimes it's just something we have to deal with.. sad but true. && i didn't want spence to seem like a rebound for reader, so i tried to go the route of her slowly putting the pieces together that maybe spence had romantic feelings for her && going from there. still spencer somewhat confesses his feelings for reader, hints that hotch might actually like reader, jj/reader reconciliation, because it needed to happen soz! she might have feelings for y/n too idk... she's kinda pulling everybody. this feels kinda melodramatic, but also idk i want epic romance vibes so i tried my best xx

i also love how hotch was such a focal part of this story and never physically showed up once... hmm.

tagged the people that asked for part 2 xx

@stvrlitsky , @cocopuff213 , @aaronhotchnerlover , @ofagathachristies , @blurpleuni-squid , @wolf-phoenix-lover , @babyspiderling , @queermaxwooo , @jihyowrrld , @minkyungseokie , @silentjudger , @btskzfav , @barbeddreams , @ah-blossom , @darker-december

It had been about a week since the court proceedings, you'd been more than a little surprised to find that you all managed to walk away scot free. You still hadn't managed to work up the courage to place your resignation papers on Hotch's desk, probably because you still hadn't gotten up the strength to face him or anyone else for that matter. You weren't outwardly abrasive, you'd offer small nods of greeting when you showed up in the morning, waves as you left.

But everyone knew that it wasn't the same.

Penelope had been trying to get you out for a night of bonding with her, Emily, and JJ, and you'd been keen on turning her down. You don't think you were quite there yet, the wound however surface level was still fresh. Looking at Emily, only reminded you of your grief, how much you had missed her. Looking at JJ only reminded you of how she hadn't had the courage necessary to tell you the truth. You'd tried to take their positions into account, look at things through a different view, but it hardly worked. You just wanted to be left alone.

Spencer was still the only one privy to the thoughts you had about ending your career at the FBI, and everyday he seemed to be holding his breath. It had become a habit to catch him staring at you with his face pinched up like he was deep in thought. It was partially why, even as your eyes skimmed over a file, you knew that he was looking in your direction. "Spence." you mutter quietly, eyes not quite meeting his as you highlighted something of importance in blue.

He sits at attention, back straight, eyes wide. He looked like a puppy that'd been caught doing something bad and was waiting for punishment. "You're doing it again." you exhale, and then you finally manage to peel your eyes from your work, eyebrow raising as you take him in tiredly. "Do you need something?" and he bares down on his bottom lip, almost as if he was thinking over his next move. He stands tall, grabbing hold of his chair and tugging it until it was planted on the other side of yours, before he sat down politely.

"Are you okay?" he's talking quietly, likely to salvage a bit of your privacy. You'd become a bit of a walking attraction in the bullpen, everyone seemed to follow every one of your actions with their eyes. You tap your highlighter against your desk, head tipping to the side as you scrutinize the man. You didn't know exactly what was going on with Spencer, but you had a small inkling, it was nothing more than an internal feeling if you were completely honest about it.

Your sister had been asking about him quite constantly lately, and after learning that day in the courtroom that for some odd reason the duo spoke over the phone, it made you pay a bit more attention to the certified genius than before. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just like I was when you asked me yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that." you keep your tone light, not wanting him to think that you were by any means annoyed with him. "What's going on?"

"I guess I keep waiting for you to disappear." he admits, head nodding involuntarily. "You're here right now, and you look fine." he continues, and you like listening to him, even if he was breaking one of the rules, and choosing to profile you. "So shouldn't things feel different? Better at least, like before?" he asks, and you don't expect that. Maybe he wasn't profiling you at all, and instead was expressing himself to a friend. "At least a little bit?" he asks, and you think it over.

"I don't think it'll ever be like before, Spence." and you hate to be the Betty Buzzkill, but it's as true as you can be. "How can it?" and Spencer's eyes jump across the room, landing on Emily who was not so subtly watching the two of you speak. You follow his gaze, and blink harshly when Emily's eyes connect with your own. It forces you to look right back at Spencer. He looks pensive, and you wonder how long he's been working up the courage to say more than 'Are you alright?'

"She was dead... and now suddenly she's not. That's great, but I grieved my friend, and maybe I'm not done grieving the Emily I knew before." and it's the first time you're admitting this aloud. "Our Emily, not the- Interpol Superspy." and you huff. "And look, I know I should be grateful, how many people get back the people they love after death?" and Spencer doesn't answer. "But is she really back? Is she really still our Emily? And how long before she's ready to pack up her stuff and take off? I'm not opening myself up to that again."

Spencer thinks your point is valid, he at one point had insisted that he had the worse abandonment issues on the team, but you had been right there through most of it. You were, in your own way protecting yourself from being hurt again. He couldn't fault you for that, none of them should. "I understand." and truthfully he does, and he's glad that at least you trust him enough to be upfront about it. "There's nothing wrong with shielding yourself from heartache, I just don't want you to close off completely... not from all of us."

You falter, and Spencer hates that he can't just say that he doesn't want you to close off from him. He didn't want this situation to change the way you behaved with him, he couldn't handle losing you.

"I won't." you promise. "And I won't do anything to jeopardize what we do here, I've got enough self control to be civil." you add with a small smile. "I haven't quite decided what a future at the bureau will look like, but I am willing to give things here a chance to get better." and you do love your work, Profiling was something you enjoyed doing, you wouldn't toss it away, unless you absolutely had no other choice. "So you don't have to worry about losing me, Spence." and you hold your breath, mostly because it's a bit audacious on your part.

He offers you a half smile, and you notice the way he visibly relaxes. Still, he doesn't want you to feel obligated to stay somewhere just for his sake, so he feels the need to be honest with you. "I'm not worried." he promises you, and it's a tiny fib, one that could become true if he grew just a touch more confidence. "Even if you did decide to leave one day I would put in the work to keep you in my life." and his smile stretches across his face now, and reaches his eyes. "You're not someone anyone would want to lose." your stomach twists.

"You're not either, Spencer." and you say it firmly, mainly to show just how much you need him to believe it. "I'd just make it my job to take up all your free time outside of work." and his face feels incessantly warm, like he'd stuck his head directly in the stream of scalding shower water. The funny thing about you was that you were oftentimes one of the hardest on the team to read. He figured that because he spent so much time hyper focused on you that he'd get better at it. He still hadn't, and you still managed to leave him stuck.

Comments like the one you just made were common for you, but the meaning behind it always escaped him. Were you flirting with him or were you just being nice? Was it possible that you knew that he had feelings for you? Were you using him as a rebound after the mess you'd found yourself entangled into with Hotch just months ago? The thought of him merely being an emotional rebound made him sad, disappointed, and insecure. But then he's taking in your expression, how despite your confidence you still look shy, and reels it in.

You had never been that sort of person, maybe you were just as oblivious as he was. "I'd be okay with that now." and you look a bit surprised, but also pleased. You nod your head slightly, leaning forward just a little in your seat. Spencer isn't sure if he's moved too quickly, but he's got no room to second guess it now.

"We should do something." it's not at all what he'd expected you to say, and he's surprised, it's more than evident on his face.

"Who? Us? Just the two of us?" he asks, and you find yourself offering him an amused sort of glance.

"Yeah, it could be fun." you insist, and you're not trying to play with his feelings, at least not in the traditional sense. Spencer Reid was no rebound. "It's not often we have days off, you know?" and you lean against your palm, head tipping slightly to the side. "Only if you want." you add, hoping that this addition would make him feel a touch more comfortable. It seems to work, because he untenses just a bit.

"Y-Yeah." he nods his head slightly, hair moving with the action just slightly. "Yeah, we should definitely do something." he agrees, and your smile is bright, clearly pleased at the turn of events. "When would you?" his eyes jump to his watch, and he shakes his head. "Obviously, not right now." he says and you're staring at him a bit bemused, because Spencer Reid was nothing if not a bit unserious.

"There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and you witness Spencer's eyes seem to brighten. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me to look at some vinyls and cd's for my collection, we could just go-" and you're eyebrows are raised, "And see what happens? There's a lot you could do..." you finish, and Spencer's already nodding his head in agreement.

"T-That's..." and he clears his throat, you think to keep you from acknowledging the fact his voice cracked in his nervousness. "Yeah, I don't mind that at all." he agrees politely. "Did you know that in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, record stores only sold gramophone records, but over time they've sold other formats like eight-track tapes, compact cassettes, and compact discs." his hands curl into one another as he relays this message and you snort.

"Did you know that there's a national record store day? It started back in 2008." and he's a bit surprised that you're shooting him a fact of your own, and one that he wasn't actually aware of.

"Really?" he questions, and your eyes sort of crinkle, smile broadening enough to show off both rows of your teeth.

"Don't tell me that I know something the brilliant Doctor Reid doesn't." you tease, and his eyes roll, though his entire demeanor remains lighthearted. "So, what's your poison?" you sidestep, but just barely, your work ignored as you focus all your efforts on keeping this conversation with Reid going.

"My poison?" and his mind of course drifts to alcohol, a bit of a confusing pivot in the conversation. "I don't really see myself as much of a drinker." he admits truthfully, and he's confused when you're laughing, hand flying up to cover your mouth as his face contorts.

"I meant your favorite music genre." you correct. "And I know you're partial to classical," and you try not to stretch your eyes. "It's great when I need to concentrate, but I wouldn't exactly say I'm dying to put on Bach and Tchaikovsky in a regular setting." you explain, both hands resting against your cheeks as you await the hopefully longwinded answer he'd have to give you.

"What if that's my only answer?" he asks, and you scoff.

"It's not." you deadpan, and he exhales through his nose. "I know you and Morgan have that understanding about music..." you explain, head cocked to the side. "He got you to listen to Nas." you remind him as he purses his lips at the reminder. "And Garcia's always sending music recommendations." you proceed as Spencer shoots you a look that clearly reads 'What's your point?'.

"Are you really telling me that out of every genre of music that's ever been released to the entire world, the only genre that's ever stood out to you is the one where old men sit behind a piano and twinkle the keys to their hearts content?" Spencer's releasing another one of those quiet laughs, this one is clearly full of exasperation though.

"I think they're doing a little bit more than twinkling keys." he corrects you, and you know that. You'd only said it to get under his skin just a little, he was fun to mess with. "Classical music is one of the only genres that seemingly does so little and is able to express the full spectrum of human emotion and life experience." he explains, and you fight your smile, leaning in just a bit more to show you were focused. You weren't sure what was happening or if anything was really happening at all, and it was all in your mind.

But you were finding that you didn't mind just listening to Spencer go on and on about whatever he wanted. You thought a lot about what had happened outside of that court room, how he'd listened to you. Really listened to you, and had never once made you feel like the emotional failure you'd imagined yourself to be. You couldn't say that in the span of a week all of your feelings for Hotch had vanished. That'd be bullshit, because deep down you knew it wasn't that easy.

And sometimes you wished it could be, sometimes you wondered why you had to fall for Hotch when Spencer was right there.

Still, whether or not you were being forced to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was not, and wouldn't ever love you the way you loved him, you couldn't deny that it was nice to have a friend there. Spencer wasn't coming to you with heavy confessions and tear-streaked cheeks begging you to look and see that he was perfect for you, which is why you think you like him even more. You knew a lot of times it was hard, rare even to find someone who would just care for you without expecting anything in return. That was Spence to a T.

"Go on." you instruct, and you find that despite the way you'd baited him into this conversation, it was well worth it. He didn't get a lot of time to just be Spencer, and with no clock over your heads, no rush for time to solve a case, you figured it was the least you could do. Especially after he'd spent the last week trying to show you how much he cared.

"I just mean that in classical music, it's actually very common to have one piece of music encompass an entire host of emotions, experiences, and subject matter." he expresses, and you hum, nodding along. "And it's all because most classical pieces use a similar formula that uses textures, dynamic colors and key modulations to express things certain words can't properly articulate." he proceeds. "That's why certain sounds and notes manage to adduce certain reactions." he seems finished.

"Oh, yeah?" you press and he nods limply, seemingly awaiting the moment you offer some jab regarding his oversharing. "I guess Mozart and Beethoven were really onto something." you mutter, and he snorts. "Still, I'd much rather listen to something a bit more obvious." you admit, not that you had a real problem with Classical Music.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm just saying... music's always sort of been the perfect tool for expressing everything you might need to say." you counter. "And while I agree that music in any form does a great job of invoking certain emotions, sometimes you don't want to guess what someone means." you admit, and it's partially (mostly) because you had never been good at reading in between the lines. Things always made the most sense when they were plainly spelled out.

"Or maybe that's just a me thing." you correct. "I've found that I always enjoy things when they're a little more laid out... there's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right?" you ask and Spencer's lips curve down into a slight frown. He's not pitying you, mostly just sympathizing with how torn up you must have been about everything. Especially as your eyes instinctively are drawn to the shut doorway of Hotch's office. Spencer thinks that's when reality sets back in and hits him like a brick.

Because he knew something that you didn't. Something that would probably make everything better for you, but would undoubtedly double his heartache. In truth, he, much like everyone else on the team tried their hardest to ignore just how obvious you'd been about your feelings for hotch. spencer more than anyone.

He remembered how things had changed a few months back, how you'd started to move on all for the rug to be pulled from up under your feet. It had been outwardly cruel, undoubtedly. because while everyone else on the team seemed to be just fine with 'don't ask, don't tell', Spencer had been unable to not pay attention to the way Hotch had actually changed too. Did he hate him? Absolutely not... and he knew you didn't either, because despite how idiotic the plan was, he hadn't done much besides give you more attention.

And Spencer guessed the act of giving you more attention had unsurprisingly ended with Aaron Hotchner realizing it was something he actually enjoyed. Hence the sudden change their boss underwent.

He supposed that was the worst part about it all, the fact that everyone had the right to tell you that "nothing had happened", and there was nothing you could do about it. Because in the grand scheme of things nothing really had happened. Hotch was no heartless womanizer, Spencer couldn't even imagine the man flirting with anyone, let alone stringing someone along for kicks. Still, that didn't change the fact that you'd gotten your hopes up, and now you were back to your own harsh reality.

Not because it wasn't a real possibility, more so because Hotch was self destructive, and sabotaged himself and his happiness at every turn. Spencer wants to stay quiet, to bask in the fact that you were slowly on your own terms getting over Hotch, and paying more attention to him, but he can't do that. He'd hate it if someone did it to him. So instead he decides to throw you a bone, push you in the right direction. "Why haven't you just talked to him?" it's not what he had meant to say. He had meant to play the role of the supportive friend.

He'd wanted to pat you on the back, mumble some agreeance that would validate how you were feeling, and possibly give him cool points. Instead, here he was about to push you in the direction of someone else. He supposed that's how stupid love made you.

"What?" you exclaim, and Spencer doesn't know what's so exasperating about his question. It was obvious that you needed to, it wasn't fair that you were slowly deteriorating on the inside whilst trying to maintain some semblance of being a "team player". He said 'screw the team' if it wasn't genuine. And clearly, from the way you'd still been icing out JJ and Emily, it wasn't. Not fully anyway. He'd never rush you to get over it, mostly because it'd make him a hypocrite. He still cringes at the thought of the tears he'd shed to JJ.

But, that was his own problem.

"Hotch." he lowers his voice a little, because it's just now hitting him that the two of you have been slacking off for a while now. Emily wasn't exactly focused in on the both of you anymore, but every so often, he'd find that she still look up every few moments. JJ, Derek, and Rossi had made a habit of leaving their respective offices, eyes glued to what was apparently becoming unit news. "You should talk to him." he says simply as your eyes cross dramatically.

"What's there to talk about?" you ask suddenly distracted by a smudge on the corner of your desk.

"What happened." he says simply. "I mean, don't you think there might be some explanation you might be missing?" Spencer tries, and you curl into yourself just a little bit.

"It's still work hours and he's still Hotch." you deny, and Spencer's lips push to the side, an obvious sign of his slight discomfort about what he was going to say next. "He's not going to want to talk about it." you admit. "And what exactly do you say in a conversation like that? Oh by the way boss, I was in love with you, and it kinda felt like maybe you felt the same, except oh wait, it was just a ploy to keep me from realizing you were lying about Emily being alive?" you say sarcastically. Spencer huffs in retaliation.

"Yes actually, you could say exactly that. Maybe you'll learn something you didn't know before." he deadpans, and your nose curls. You cut your eyes over at the man, who's not amused.

"I kinda thought you'd be the last person pushing for this sort of confrontation, you know?' you admit before you can really help yourself. You watch as Spencer's face seems to set into one of surprise, his cheeks and neck slowly gaining a red sort of tint to them.

"What do you mean?" he questions, and your mouth parts just slightly. And you think the same way he's been gentle with you is the exact same way you need to be gentle with him, so you pivot, head shaking from side to side.

"Nothing." you say firmly. "Forget about it." you say quietly, and then you're looking back at your paperwork. Spencer, embarrassed finds himself fiddling with his fingers, trying to scold his heartbeat back into submission. It suddenly felt way too cramped sitting at your desk.

"You should go after work." he says, and your eyes snap back to him. "Talk to Hotch after work, I mean." he says and your stomach feels a bit tight. "I think it'll be best." he proceeds, and you frown.

"You do?" you question, and you try not to sound despondent.

"Y-Yeah, I do." he agrees despite his stutter. "Things like this don't go away on their own, you know?" and you chew on the inside of your lip, and feel that gloom cloud from earlier making its way back.

"I thought we were supposed to be hanging out today, Spencer." you start and he blinks owlishly, long lashes nearly caressing the tops of his cheekbones.

"We could always raincheck." he says, and you stare at him just a bit blankly. "It's not like it was a date or anything. They were just plans..." he adds, and your teeth chomp down on your bottom lip. He doesn't really know how to read the look on your face, but he knows that he feels like he's being noble.

"Just plans." you shrug your shoulders dismissively. "Right." and then you pick up your pen. "Well if that's what you want, I guess it's fine by me." you add, body curling into itself as you position yourself away from him.

"Isn't that what you want?" he questions, and you cut your eyes.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" you keep your voice level, but your leg is bouncing. You're not quite sure why, maybe because Spencer was being Spencer. You supposed your comment that made it clear that you knew that he had feelings for you had scared him. Now, he was trying to protect himself, but you weren't so hungry for a relationship that you'd string him along for the sole purpose of getting over Hotch. You would've made this call had you figured it out or not, and you supposed the fact he didn't get that was what sucked. "I'm not that pathetic." you add with a quiet scoff.

"It's not about you being pathetic." he denies. "I don't think that about you., I just know that you're in a vulnerable place. You had real feelings for him, and I think it'd be best for you to get it all off your chest correctly, before you start projecting all those leftover feelings to the first person you can." and he doesn't mean it in the way it sounds. In fact the statistics about rebounds would sound a lot worse, but as usual, he's horrible at communicating exactly what he feels.

You blink. Once, twice, three times.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." you say, and you're abruptly standing up, mostly because you're about to cry like the fucking baby you were. Spencer's certain this is a new record for how quickly things could go left just because he couldn't shut the hell up. What he'd been trying to convey was that after a rejection, it was much easier to mistake platonic feelings for romantic ones. He had been a consistent shoulder for you to lean on since everything went south.

He didn't want you to think that he was being nice to you only because he had feelings for you, and convince yourself that you felt the same all because you refused to fully shut the door with Hotch. But he'd never actually meant to make it seem like you'd be so desperate, and especially not with him. "Y/N, wait. That's not what I meant-" except you're already leaving, taking in the shaky breath that told him he'd stupidly made you cry.

"L/N?" Emily's calling as you pass her, but you don't respond to her either. Instead you're rushing off in the direction of the bathroom, likely to calm yourself down. Emily's eyes are immediately snapping over to Spencer, and her eyebrows are furrowed. He instinctively looks away, internally cursing himself out.

────────────────────────

"Y/N/N?" you're surprised to hear JJ entering the bathroom, and you're hurriedly moving to splash at your face with water to keep it from looking so puffy. Still, JJ was as perceptive as she was pushy, so it's clear she's already put it together that you're crying. "Hey, is everything alright?" she takes on that motherly tone she uses with Henry, and the rest of the team when they're feeling down.

"I'm fine." you insist, and she doesn't look convinced. She takes a tentative step towards you, standing beside the sink you were occupying. "Seriously JJ, please just leave me alone." you partially beg.

"I know you're upset with me, but you're still my friend." she reminds you. "I'm not going to leave you in here when it's clear you're upset." she exclaims. "So you can talk to me or not, but I'm not going anywhere." she deadpans, and you sniffle, rubbing harshly at your cheeks. They're sensitive to the action, blood rushing to your face.

"You're so annoying." you mumble, but there's no bite. It makes JJ snicker, and it's a step in the right direction you're sure.

"It's my job." she retorts with a shrug, and she leans her back against the sink beside you, legs crossing slightly. "Is everything okay?" she tries again, much more gently as you frown. No, everything was not okay. You hadn't actually expected to be sitting here crying over Spencer's remark, but you supposed that the fact he believed you'd ever use him as a rebound had kind of hurt. You supposed it also didn't help that he'd so callously canceled your plans.

You'd actually started to look forward to hanging out with him.

"Do you think I'm desperate?" you question haughtily, and JJ's eyes widen, surprise overtaking her features as she turns to you fully.

"Of course not." she denies firmly, blonde ponytail bobbing with all her intense animation. "What would make you think that?" she pries, and you cut your eyes just slightly.

"You guys could have trusted me with the truth." you counter, and she falls silent. "And even if you couldn't there were so many other ways to keep me from finding out about Emily. Ways that didn't involve making me look like an idiot to the rest of the team." you mumble crossly, and you blink enough that you feel like your lashes are crumpling into your cornea. it forces you to drag a hand over them roughly, rubbing harshly at your eyes until the sensation left.

"That wasn't what we were trying to do." JJ tries, and it doesn't really matter what exactly she was trying to do. What mattered was what had happened. "You know that." she adds, and you think she's trying to appeal to the part of you that knew the type of people she and Hotch were. The ones that had proven their loyalty to the team for years and years. "Is this about Hotch?" she says and you wince because the problem wasn't that simple.

And you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think so.

You weren't some girl that couldn't handle rejection, what bothered you the most was that Hotch and JJ had felt like they couldn't trust you, and it bothered you that Hotch had felt like he had to play along to some stupid fantasy to ensure you'd play your role. And it especially bothered you that you'd mourned your friend Emily and everything you thought you knew about her, and all anyone could focus on was the fact that you liked Hotch and he didn't like you back. As if your entire world stopped all because of it.

"No, it's not about Hotch." you deadpan. "I wish you guys would just stop being so casual about it." you add on as JJ's mouth parts.

"Y/N... it's not really something that you'd ever really been subtle about. Everyone knows." and she's still trying to be gentle, despite the fact that the words still managed to slice at you.

"So that makes what you guys did, okay?" you shoot back. "Is that really the hill you want to die on?" and you're growing crosser. "This isn't about not being liked back by a guy, this is about me believing that the people I spend most of my days with have my back. How are we supposed to be a team when I can't trust you?" you press. "Because you never would have done that to Spence." you add, and JJ blinks, mostly because she doesn't know how to counter that.

"You didn't have to do it to Derek or Rossi or Penelope either." you remind her. "So what was it about me, about this that made your only course of action rubbing salt in a wound that I was doing a damn good job of healing all on my own?"

"I-I don't know." she admits, and you suppose it was an answer.

"Yeah, well I don't know if I have the patience to wait around for you all to figure that out." you mumble.

"What are you saying?" and JJ's blinking a bit more, eyes misty but not quite showing any signs of shed tears.

"I'm saying that before I didn't know if I wanted to stay here anymore. I love my job, but I don't love how it makes me feel now." you say plainly. "When Elle got like that and ignored her gut it got someone shot." you say, and it sounds melodramatic, but it doesn't feel that way at all. JJ gasps, though it's faint. "I just don't want to wait around for that to happen to me." and you inhale sharply, shuddered breath wracking through you as JJ stares at you clearly gobsmacked.

"But-" and she can't quite grasp the words. "You can't just leave." she exclaims, and it sounds like she's pleading. "Look-" and she's starting to sound just a little desperate. "Look we never wanted to hurt you, okay? And-and none of us..." and she stops to make sure she's staring you directly in your eyes. "None of us want to lose you, Y/N." she insists. "I-" and she's shaking her head again. "Please don't do this." and she sounds the same way Spencer did when he said it. Your nose twitches, "We just got the team back together." she mutters.

"JJ, that's not fair." you huff at her, and she's not really trying to be fair. She just doesn't want you to leave.

"I'm so sorry that we hurt you." and while most apologies that start that way are usually rife with deceit, JJ sounds more sincere than she probably ever has before. "And I'm sorry if it feels a little flat, especially with you already having a foot out the door." she sighs, "It wasn't okay, but-but I know how Hotch feels about you. How the entire team feels about you." she reiterates. "We can't do this without you, we can't." she emphasizes sternly. "And maybe that's selfish to bring up, but we all care so much about you." she promises.

You want to cut her off, but she doesn't give you the chance.

Classic JJ.

"Do whatever you need to! Take as much time away as you need, hate us forever if you have to, but please don't- don't walk away from what you do here." she exhales shakily. "And-and for the record, whether it helps or not... we didn't sit around discussing your... feelings for Hotch." she tells you quietly. "It wasn't some master plan that we composed, and-and I don't know... it couldn't have all been fake." she whispers, and you wonder why she's changing her tune, because just last week she was telling you that 'it wasn't real'

"JJ-" you finally manage and she's shaking her head.

"I'm serious." she insists, and your nose crinkles up again.

"Stop." you deadpan. "You're being really mean." you huff, and you begin to click at your nails just slightly. JJ thinks you're a little bit exasperating. Too stubborn for your own good, but she wont push.

"Could you just listen for one second?" she exclaims, and you're pouting as she grows more overwhelmed at it all. "I wouldn't lie to you about this." she insists, and you wonder why she, and Spencer have taken this sort of stance with you. It should make you hopeful, right? Oh, there was some chance that Hotch felt the same way as you. Except you can't be happy about it, because he's not the one that was sitting here telling you this. It was JJ.

What had you told Spencer earlier? 'There's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right', and emotionally exhausted or not, you meant it. Which meant you refused to do the work for him. If he couldn't say it, if he couldn't admit it, than it was as if it wasn't true at all. Which is why you exhale, blinking away whatever bleariness tried to keep itself latched to your eyes. "I love you for trying so hard, but I'd rather you didn't." you instruct sternly.

JJ inhales deeply, audibly expelling the breath from her nose. "That's what you're missing, Y/N." she begins, and she reaches out, hand cupping your shoulder. "I'm not trying to do anything. Everything I've said today I meant. You're important, and you're a lot to lose." she admits. "If you're going to leave, leave because you hate the job, do it because you don't feel fulfilled any longer. But don't let this be what makes you throw in the towel, Y/N." she says and you huff again.

You were doing a lot of that today. "We'll make up for it." she begins, and then she sighs. "I'll make up for it, however long it takes." and you think her pivot from sharing the blame to taking it all for herself makes you feel a little less like you were being ganged up on. She was no longer the spokesperson for everyone involved, and was back to just being JJ, your friend JJ. "Please?" she tries again, and it's not like her to beg, which tells you all you need to know about how serious she was.

"We should get back to work." you mumble, and it's not quite the answer she's expecting, but at the very least it was a promise that you both still had until the end of the day at the very least. She doesn't have the strength to fight her smile, arms looping around you in a move that's much too invasive for your still sour mood, but you don't slight her for it. You instead let her hug you, because obviously it meant a lot more to her than you knew. She'd missed you.

"Alright, alright. That's enough." you tease, moving to lightly push the blonde off of you as she exhales.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were gonna hate me forever." she admits honestly, and you crinkle your nose.

"Guess I'm softer than I thought." you reply, and she waves you off at the remark. Still, despite this slight turn in the direction of your relationship with JJ, you still couldn't feel all that settled. But, you know hiding out in the restroom was by no means the best choice. So when JJ moves to leave, you tail her, surprised when on the other side is a nearly pacing Reid.

"Spence?" JJ exclaims in surprise, the tawny haired man turns to you both. He's immediately looking past JJ to take you in. JJ follows hos gaze and whistles under her breath, deciding that her job was done. She offers you a hopeful sort of look before she continues on towards her desk, leaving you and Spencer mostly alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you're subjectively alright, for the moment. You're better than you were, but not as good as you could be. You're not anywhere near where or who you were before, but you suppose after what the team endured there wasn't much that could be done about that last bit. "I'm so sorry." he's exclaiming, and of course, he means it. He always means it. "I didn't mean to-" and he doesn't really know how to articulate all his thoughts correctly.

He's good with words, knows facts and statistics and data, knows what runs through his mind when he thinks about you, and knows what he wants to say. It's when he opens his mouth that things go awry, because despite all his grand attempts, he always manages to screw up when it came to expressing the emotional side of things. His pep talks sometimes fell flat, and a lot of times he missed the mark when it came to cheering someone up. But, he'd never wanted to be a person who hurt you, so he needed to fix it.

Even if it ruined everything forever.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you'd-" and he motions between the both of you. "I don't think that you see me as a rebound." he finally vocalizes. "That would mean you'd have to see me in a potentially romantic way." Spencer's voice is as steady as it often was when he was giving a geographical profile or helping to relay some form of fact or evidence during a case. Which said a lot about his intentions, and how serious he was about you not misunderstanding him.

"I was merely trying to note that a lot of times in circumstances where we're faced rejection from someone we hold to a high regard, it's really easy to misinterpret our own feelings and latch onto people before we really mean to." he expresses, and your chewing on the inside of your cheek, albeit subtly. "For example, because you've established me as someone who you can trust during this time, it'd be really easy for you to misinterpret what you think you feel for me." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inwardly.

"How could I possibly do that? They're my own feelings." you retort.

"Because, the first thing people do after a breakup, is they seek validation, or a new way to boost their esteem and self worth." he doesn't quite lecture, but it's clear he's intent on your knowing all of this. "And that doesn't necessarily mean that you're vying for me as a potential person to bounce back with, but a lot of times when you don't process the end of a previous emotional bond, your view of the entire new dynamic can be warped." he proceeds, and you're still not really understanding his point, instead you're feeling more silly.

"What are you saying, Spencer?" you question quietly.

"All I'm trying to explain is that I don't want you to tell me that you want to go out and listen to me promenade facts unless it's what you really want to do." he says, "I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to play along, because you think we're in the same boat... where we- we love someone that we can't have?" he presses, and he winces once it's out, you think you may have started holding your breath. "Does that make sense to you?"

You nod your head limply, and you take in his words. You find that your little hunch about your dear Spencer was correct. You also note that it doesn't quite scare you the way you'd initially believed it would. "Spence, I wouldn't do that to you." you remind him, and he nods too.

"I know that." he promises. "At least not consciously, but our minds can play tricks on us. You could think that this is what's best, moving on... forgetting about- about everything that happened." he presses, and your lips form into a thin line. "And then wake up in three weeks and remember why you fell in love with Hotch to begin with."

"Or-" and his eyes widen.

"Or?"

"Or...I could choose to stop waiting around for someone to not be afraid to love me." you counter. "I could- I could choose to hang out with my friend, Spencer and be okay with whatever happens after that. I could- We could do that. And it could be okay." you purse your lips. "Because, it's what I want to do. Nobody's entitled to my feelings but me, and you know what that means, Spencer? It means that if you think that you might love me, you need to be okay with that." he looks a bit startled that you're saying it so bluntly, but stays quiet.

"And you need to know that sometimes your statistics are gonna be wrong, and sometimes the guy that's too scared to admit how they feel doesn't get the girl." it's a shock, you can't say that you've fallen out of love in a day, you can't say that you've fallen in love in a day. But you do know that Spencer Reid managed to invoke a hope inside of you that you hadn't managed to feel in a long time. He made you girlishly giddy, and you liked talking to him, you liked listening to him, you liked the way it felt when you'd made plans together.

And maybe there was no such thing as a happily ever after where everyone gets who they want, maybe in three weeks you would wake up and find that you and Spencer were better off as friends, but you weren't going to hold up your life in the hopes that maybe someday Aaron Hotchner would wake up and decide he was finally ready to love you out loud. Not when there was a chance to take your own life, your own emotions by the balls and do with them what you wanted.

"He doesn't?" Spencer asks, and you're not quite sure you can place what emotions are resting on his face and in his eyes.

"We can find out." you offer, and it's not some heady and heavy declaration of unyielding devotion, but wasn't that sort of how every relationship started? With some decision to take a chance. Maybe, you didn't really know. "There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and for the second time that day Spencer seems to brighten right in front of your eyes. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me... there's a lot we could do…" and the small change is almost everything. It's scary, causes a pit in your gut.

Still, it's a nicer feeling than uncertainty and the hollowness left behind by idleness. "Are you in?" you ask, and Spencer is already nodding his head, smile reaching his eyes as his pretty teeth reveal themselves to you, eyes twinkling in a way that's very very beautiful.

"Yes." he agrees with a simple nod. "I would-" and you think it's cute the way his smile refuses to leave, and sweet the way he's suddenly grown nervous all over again. "I'd like that-" and his voice cracks, and earns him a laugh, your own demeanor seeming to change as your excitement starts to brew in the depths of your chest.

"Good." you beam.

"Good." he repeats, and there's a small moment, a flicker where you're certain you both look nervous, frightful of what came next. But it only lasts a second, because you're both suddenly being called by Derek, a resounding 'Pretty Boy, Pretty Girl' forcing you out of your bubble and back into the fray. With another shared smile you find yourselves in step, making your way back towards the heart of the bullpen where the rest of the team is huddled. It's rare when work is so light, but you know as well as everyone else, you'll all take advantage of it.

When Penelope smiles at you, you smile back, and it's real.

When JJ plants herself on top of your desk, the two of you actually laugh, spilling secrets and trading gossip like nothing's ever changed.

When Rossi calls you Piccola, you relax even more into the familiarity of being surrounded by your teammates.

When Derek slings an arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss to the top of your head, you remember why you loved your job.

When Emily calls your name and waves you and JJ over to the group, you oblige, meeting Emily's eyes with no mirth left behind. When she calls you by your nickname, you feel that familiar swarm of familial adoration filling your chest, and recognize that things with her would be okay. You find that in the grand scheme she is still your Emily.

When you find yourself standing next to your boss, his usually stern and stoic persona shed in the presence of the team he considered family, you hardly bat an eye. When he smiles at a joke you make, you're pleased, but the anxiety, the panic that tormented you is all gone. The butterflies are too, replaced with the respect you remember.

And when you find yourself looking across the circle and meet the pretty brown eyes of one Spencer Reid, you feel it when your heart tremors, just a little bit.

And you think, in the end, you made the right decision.

281 notes · View notes

stxrvel · 4 months

Text

the one where you came close! (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!”

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?”

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!”

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy.

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand.

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly.

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier.

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news.

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted.

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.”

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.”

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business.

“Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look.

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!”

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.”

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.”

“Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

“Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair.

“y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.”

“Ow, my poor baby.”

“I told you not to say that to anyone!”

“I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!”

“This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!”

“Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.”

“You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!”

“It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!”

God. It was going to be a long day.

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run.

“Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?”

“Maybe.”

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions.

“Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?”

The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare.

Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return.

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart.

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew.

“How did all this happen?”

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?”

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity.

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.”

“It's…complicated.”

“I don't think so. Tell me.”

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much.

“It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.”

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.”

Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile.

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?”

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva.

“Oh?”

Play fucking dumb.

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.”

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed.

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung.

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.”

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day.

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.”

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar.

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.”

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…”

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.”

“What does that have to do…?”

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.”

“…”

At what fucking moment?

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?”

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.”

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends.

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town.

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet.

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you.

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present.

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.”

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper.

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.”

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous.

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?”

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.”

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!”

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you.

“Don't tell my mom I said that.”

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left.

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait.

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste.

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably.

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

369 notes · View notes

transvampireboyfriend · 3 months

Text

@steddie-week Day 1: Secret relationship

Rating: M Words: 2362

Modern AU

"I'm gonna get us some more popcorn" Steve says, slapping his hands against his thighs.

Eddie gives him side eye because it's only been ten minutes since the movie started and they're supposed to be discrete.

Steve silently shrugs at him, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking at everyone in the room.

He's right, no one even reacted to Steve's statement. Jon and Argyle are absentmindedly playing with each other's hands, eyes locked on the screen; Chrissy and Robin are still whispering to each other; Jeff is still showing something to Freak and Nancy on his phone and Gareth is still dozing on and off next to Chrissy.

Okay then, Eddie thinks, and tries to communicate the same to Steve with a shrug of his own.

Steve smiles a small thing, and winks at him.

A blink and you'll miss it wink, but Eddie still has to bite the inside of his cheek to tame his answering smile and try to subdue the heat rising to his cheeks.

7:05 his watch reads when Steve leaves the room.

Five minutes should be fine right? For Eddie to follow without making their friends suspicious?

Eddie looks at the TV and tries to focus on the movie, but all he can see are colors.

He doesn't know what they're watching, was too distracted by the hair on Steve's arm when they discussed it.

The hair on Steve's arm, which Eddie only discovered yesterday, is so soft and fun to kiss.

And lick.

And mouth at.

Jesus, it's been a whole month since their first date, a little more than that since they first kissed and Eddie still acts like a lovesick fool.

7:06

Eddie starts bouncing his leg impatiently.

On second thought, popcorn takes like two minutes to be ready. And say it takes Steve an additional minute to put it into a bowl, then he'll be back in less than five!

Eddie's wasting precious time!

He stands abruptly and everyone does turn to look at him at that.

"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly, "need to use the bathroom. Be right back."

His friends turn back to the TV with hums and noncommittal grunts and Eddie at least has the sense to walk towards the hallway and not go through the kitchen's front door.

It's a redundant but necessary detour and in a few more seconds, he's opening the kitchen's side door.

Steve greets him by throwing his arms around his neck, "What took you so long?" he asks, leaning forward to bring their lips together.

Eddie hums against him and lets go of the door, letting it swing closed in favor of grabbing on to his boyfriend.

His arms circle Steve's waist and pull him closer as they kiss.

"Didn't wanna be too obvious" Eddie murmurs against Steve's lips, noticing there's no smell of popcorn or any sound from the microwave.

Steve hums, then grabs Eddie's face with both hands and soundly kisses him once, twice.

"I think I'm about ready to tell them," Steve comments when he pulls back, lowering his hands to Eddie's shoulders.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, feeling his heart pick up its pace.

Steve liking him back is one thing, getting to be together like this another, but him telling everyone about it? Eddie hadn't even dared to dream that big in the year or so that he spent pining after the most beautiful boy he's ever met.

Steve nods, a smile growing on his face.

"Cool," Eddie comments, unable to hide the huge grin that's surely showing his dimples.

Steve giggles, that wonderful sound reserved only for Eddie, and nods again, "Mmhm" he agrees, leaning forward again, placing his mouth on his and tangling his fingers in his hair.

Eddie searches his tongue the way he knows Steve likes, steals his air and sucks on his lower lip when they need to part, enjoying the way Steve's body goes boneless, melts against his hold.

"God, I love your mouth," Eddie sighs, making Steve laugh softly against him,

"Are you staying over tonight?" Steve asks, pleasantly scratching the back of Eddie's skull,

"If you want me to, babydoll," Eddie offers, thoroughly enjoying the blush that the ridiculous petname elicits as Steve scoffs and looks away from him.

Eddie takes the opportunity to smack a kiss on his cheek, feeling Steve's smile get wider.

He turns back to Eddie and his smile fades a little, Eddie turns his head to the side, worry creeping up inside him.

"Please stay," Steve asks, with something serious in his eyes,

Eddie understands. Maybe more than Steve would expect him to. So he makes it his priority to reciprocate his boyfriend's seriousness and moves both his hands up to hold Steve's face,

"For as long as you'll have me, sweetheart," he promised, hoping Steve can hear his sincerity, can understand how much he means it when they look into each others' eyes.

Steve smiles with something like wonder and brings their lips together again.

Eddie moves one of his hands to the back of Steve's head, and grabs onto his hair there, circling the other around his waist again and walking them back until Steve softly bumps the kitchen counter.

Steve sits on top of the counter with practiced ease, using Eddie's shoulders to jump up and then opening his legs like he always does.

And like always, it drives Eddie insane.

He takes his place between Steve's legs, kissing him insistently, his hands moving from his waist to the top of his thighs, rubbing there as he goes to kiss his neck, when the door opens.

Eddie's heart stops.

In the span of a few seconds which seem infinite to him, Eddie freezes, looks up from Steve's neck to his face, finds him staring ahead with eyes as wide as plates and straightens up, letting go of Steve's thighs to turn around and find Gareth rummaging through the fridge.

An agonizingly long minute passes.

None of them say anything, Steve staying atop the counter and Eddie frozen in place, until Gareth straightens up with a can on his hand, and looks at them like he hadn't even realized they were there when he came in.

Eddie can only raise his eyebrows.

"Sorry, Jeff did want a coke after all," Gareth says, like it explains anything, "You know how he is," he comments,

Eddie stares.

"Did ...you want us to pause the movie?" Gareth asks.

Eddie blinks.

"Uh, no. That's okay," Steve answers,

"Alright." Gareth says slowly, "...Cool," he concludes, and then he exits the kitchen without another word.

Eddie frowns, a little mindblown, immediately turning back to Steve and finding a similar frown on his face.

"Did you-?" Steve asks,

"No!" Eddie cuts in, scandalized and a little panicked, "Of course not! We agreed we wouldn't tell anyone!"

Steve's frown dissipates to give way to a soft smile. He places his hand against Eddie's cheek. "I know," he affirms, "sorry."

Eddie rolls his eyes a little, letting Steve know no apology is necessary and he sighs, calmer now that he can see that Steve's not freaking out.

He leans into his boyfriend's hand more.

"Do you think Robin-?" he ventures,

"I don't think so," Steve answers softly, "Last I heard Chrissy doesn't even know yet. And that was last week" he comments, moving his hand to tuck Eddie's hair behind his ear, absentmindedly caressing the strands after.

"I don't think she would tell Chris without telling me," Steve assures him,

Chrissy does suspect. Eddie met her a little later than he met Steve but she's rapidly become his best friend and regularly refers to Steve and Eddie as 'a couple'.

Eddie used to blush hard at the comments, before they got together. And she never pushed, but it was the thing that got him to notice that his looks were returned, got him to understand that Steve doesn't actually treat anyone else the way he treats Eddie.

Now he just sort of scoffs when she mentions it, but he hasn't told her either. Wanted to let Steve set their pace.

"I mean he is known to be distracted" Eddie offers about Gareth,

Steve laughs silently, "There's no way he didn't notice me up on the counter and you between my legs, baby,"

Baby.

Eddie blushes. He can't get over the pet names, especially when Steve only uses them in private.

He returns his hands to rest on top of Steve's thighs and leans up to kiss him, trying to cool the heat in his cheeks.

It does not work.

Steve rubs their noses together when they pull apart, resting his hands on Eddie's shoulders, "You wanna tell 'em?" he asks,

"If you do," Eddie says, "but tell me if there's anything that should change" he requests,

One of Steve's hands holds his face again, his thumb softly moving back and forth on his cheek.

"Like what?" he asks, barely above a whisper,

"I don't know," Eddie answers, racking his brain for an example, "like, ...are you into PDA?" he asks in the same tone, not wanting to burst the bubble they created,

Steve strokes Eddie's hair again, turns his head and purses his lips, thinking,

"I'd like to hold your hand" he settles on.

He's gonna kill Eddie, one of these days, his heart will grow so big from how sweet Steve is, that it'll explode.

Eddie has to press his lips together so he doesn't smile ear to ear.

"That's not PDA, I don't think,"

"No?" Steve innocently asks, he knows what he's doing, the bastard. Eddie wants to melt.

"No, angel,"

"You want us to kiss with tongue in front of everyone?" Steve asks, in the same tone, but with a shit eating grin,

Eddie snorts loudly, has to lean his head on Steve's shoulder to suppress his laugh.

"No, I don't think I want that," he says, straightening up while his shoulders still shake with his laughter,

"Good," Steve says, looking smug, "Me neither,"

He places a kiss against Eddie's temple, gently scratches the back of Eddie's skull and asks, "What about you? Do you have anything?"

"Was thinking I like the things you call me in private," Eddie murmurs, emboldened by the tender touch,

Steve smiles softly, but wags his eyebrows.

Eddie laughs again, almost shy, "Shut up." he protests, "You don't even call me anything different in bed,"

Steve joins him, laughing softly, but then his eyes soften too.

"Hmm," he hums, leaning down to close the distance between them, "I can save the pet names just for you" he murmurs,

Eddie leans up the small fraction left to join their lips again, and Steve softly kisses back.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks as they pull back,

"Can I have shotgun privileges? And hold your hand while you drive?" Steve requests,

" 'Course you can" Eddie grins, sure that there are hearts in his eyes when he leans up to briefly kiss Steve's jaw,

"What else?" Eddie asks,

"Want your hands in my hair" Steve answers easily, in the syrupy tone he always gets when Eddie gets his mouth anywhere near his neck,

"Anytime," Eddie grants, softly biting where he just kissed,

"You?" Steve asks,

"Would you wear my clothes out of the house?" Eddie tries,

Steve smiles and kisses both his eyelids, making him chuckle a bit "I'd love that",

"Something more?" Steve gently probes,

"We can figure out the rest as we go?"

"Sounds like a plan."

---

"Eddie and I are together" Steve proudly announces to his friends after the movie's over and the pizza's gone.

He takes Eddie's hand in his and Eddie smiles at him so wide, his cheeks hurt.

Robin squeals. Eddie turns to look at her and sees Chrissy doing the same, with a confused frown on her face.

Eddie thinks that's weird, but when he looks at the rest of their friends he finds expectant looks on their faces. Like they didn't understand or something.

After a beat, Nancy asks, "What do you mean?"

"Uh. We're dating," Steve answers, a little nervous now. Eddie softly squeezes his hand.

"Yeah, you have been for like a year, right?" Chrissy answers this time, "Certainly since I met you guys,"

Eddie gawks at her, "What?"

"Robin, did you tell her?" Steve asks,

"I didn't!" she defends,

"Tell me what?" Chrissy asks, turning to her,

Eddie cannot believe his ears.

"Wait," Jeff says, "you weren't dating before?"

"Before what?" Jon asks,

"Before we met Chrissy?" Gareth tries,

Eddie's whipping his head back and forth between them as they speak,

"When did we meet her?" Argyle asks,

"Was it last year?" Freak adds on,

"Shush! " Nancy urges, pulling everyone's attention to her,

"How long have you two been dating?" she asks Steve and Eddie,

"A month?" Eddie says, his head spinning,

"And a half" Steve finishes,

Robin snorts and the group erupts into protests,

"No way."

"What?"

"Nu-uh,"

"What the-"

"Oh my god?? "

"There's no way!"

Eddie nods at them, "Yeah, how long did you all think we had been dating for?"

"Before we met Chrissy!" they answer almost in unison.

"What? Why?" Steve asks,

"Because you go on dates," Jeff answers,

"What!? " Eddie's beginning to sound like a broken record,

"Yeah, you guys go shopping, and to the record store" Argyle explains,

"And to dinner at each other's places" Freak finishes,

"I do that with all of you!" Eddie protests,

"Yeah, as a group," Gareth counters,

Steve turns to look at him and presses his lips together when Eddie looks back.

"Don't you dare," Eddie warns, already trying to swallow the laughter bubbling up his throat,

"Wait, so you thought you were always sitting next to each other by happenstance?" Chrissy asks,

"You save our seats together? " Steve asks her like it's the most heart warming thing he's ever heard,

Eddie lets go of Steve's hand in order to bury his face in his own, he can feel his blush against his palms.

"You know we could hear you making out in the kitchen right?" Nance asks,

Eddie groans loudly just as Robin bursts out laughing.

"You platonically watched a movie together on Valentine's?" Argyle asks skeptically, "At the theater?"

"Oh my god " Eddie complaints,

That's what topples Steve. His laughter filling Eddie's ears.

He has to come out of his hiding place to look at him, seeing Steve joyful is what he was put on this Earth to do, Eddie thinks.

"You platonically got him a sunflower bouquet for his birthday?" Jon piles on,

"He said he'd never gotten flowers before!" Eddie defends as everyone laughs,

Steve chuckles, rubbing Eddie's back soothingly,

"What was I supposed to do?" Eddie turns to him,

Steve smiles brightly and places a kiss on his shoulder.

Eddie smiles back, placing a hand on Steve's knee.

As embarrassed as he is, he's really glad everyone finally knows.

Sneaking around was fun, but nothing can compare to having Steve like this.

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fluff #secret relationship #stranger things #they're idiots <3 #after they're done making fun of them Chrissy's like ''well. congratulations. i guess''#this got away from me but i can't resist writing them being all gooey with each other im sorryyyyyy #steddie headcanon #<- writing tag #.

224 notes · View notes