#specially the Morgan part
Text
This is a long shot, but does anyone have Albert Mason’s RDR2 wildlife pictures? I’m trying to find the original files to print for cosplay props, but I only own the game on console and the screenshots I've found online are too zoomed out/low-quality. :(
#rdr2#rdr#red dead redemption 2#red dead#albert mason#arthur morgan#thought these would be easier to get my hands on so i focused more on the other parts of my albert outfit#but jokes on ME#i forgot not everyone got super attached to my specific favourite special little npc
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
if I was part of the mcu (pt. 31) (Christmas special! 2-?)
Decorating!
I put a bow on Bucky's metal arm as well as festive magnets:) (he acted grumpy but he hasn't taken it off yet so)
Sam put a Christmas bow on red wing:D and also used red wing to decorate
Wanda helped put of higher up decorations with her ✨️magic✨️
We wrapped storm breaker and mjolnir with Christmas paper. They still work but now they're pretty
Tony hooked up so many light I think we're going to give someone a stroke or something because they all can change colors (and yes there is a remote)
Steve and Bucky carried in the tree that Clint helped pick out.
Obviously we decorated the tree with avengers themed ordiments
Spidy put the star on top from the roof
Yelena helped me sneak into the weapons arsenal and add ribbons, bows, lights etc to them for fun;)
Natasha, Pepper, and Laura were all making sure no one was getting into fights
Bruce used his science to make all the rooms smell like either peppermint, gingerbread, or cookies:)
Of course all the pets got special Christmas themed collars (and accessories)
#funny#random#if i was part of the mcu#incorrect marvel quotes#incorrect quotes#if i was in the mcu#me in the mcu#christmas special#It was great#Yes Morgan helped decorate the tree#So did Thor's new child:)
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here’s a very vague and at times mostly headcanoned timeline of when everyone was in the BAU! (minus the 6 that died because of Adrian Bale’s bombing)
#criminal minds#cm#the special interest half: criminal minds#bau#ik I didn’t do the math right at parts#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#penelope garcia#emily prentiss#derek morgan#elle greenaway#david rossi#jason gideon#jennifer jj jareau#tara lewis#luke alvez#matthew simmons#alex blake#jordan todd#ashley seaver#max ryan#Katie Cole#stephen walker#kate callahan
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
nicknames | S.R.
in which you meet the team for the first time, and receive your first nickname
who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader
category: fluff
content warnings: reader is referred to as a girl. i have this headcanon where when reid's IQ gets slashed to 60, he'd get so distracted that he'd run on autopilot, hence the willingness to handshake.
word count: 591
a/n: happy finals szn! this fic has been rotting in my brain for weeks and i finally decided to flesh it out. and maybe you should like and reblog this if you enjoy it (no pressure tho)
You were still filtering through your entry paperwork when the rest of the team filtered into the bullpen. David Rossi, who had helped you land this job in the first place, nodded in your direction before disappearing into his office. “Hey!” Someone called from across the bullpen, “Y/N, right?” Emily asked, setting her go bag in the chair at her desk before making her way over to your desk.
Smiling in response, “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you responded, reaching your hand out for her to shake. It was nice to be in the BAU, complete with a promotion from Special Agent to Supervisory Special Agent.
JJ walked over next, waving, and introducing herself as the communications liaison. “I’ve heard a lot of great things from your old CARD team,” she said, “I’m sure your skillset will come in handy here.”
You nodded in affirmation, “That’s the hope!” You answered, smiling at the prospect of your old team singing your praises.
Next, Derek approached, reaching out his hand for you to shake. Of course, you obliged and grinned at him. Part of you felt like you were meeting celebrities, the BAU was a big deal in the bureau. “Derek Morgan,” he introduced himself, “How long were you with CARD?”
“Five years,” you responded, it was a long time for anyone to deal solely with child abduction, but your team had the best rate in the bureau. Besides, you found the work rewarding.
Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “that’s impressive.”
You nodded, “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you all.”
JJ looked behind her, “Oh, have you met Garcia?” She asked, peeking around the corner to where the technical analyst's office was.
Glancing down at the cat-shaped stress toy that she had given you when you arrived this morning, you smiled, “Yes, she was the first to greet me this morning. I think I’m just missing Dr. Reid.”
As if on cue, the young doctor walked into the bullpen, he had a worn leather satchel over his shoulder and looked like he might be talking to himself, “Reid!” Emily called over, getting his attention, and causing him to change course, approaching your desk. “Come meet, Y/N.”
He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his sweater before you reached out your hand for him to shake. “Oh, he doesn’t…” JJ began, but her voice trailed off when Dr. Reid shook your hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you said, smiling at him. It felt good to know you had finally met the entire team.
He gave a close-lipped smile in return, “Reid is fine, or Spencer.” He said as you each dropped your hands to your sides.
Noticing everyone looking back and forth between the two of you as if you had already managed to do something wrong, you gathered all of your paperwork in your hands, “I should get this to Hotch.”
The rest of the team got the message and started to disperse to their respective desks, Reid’s being adjacent to yours. “Welcome to the team, pretty girl,” Morgan said to you before turning to his own paperwork.
You hugged your paperwork to your chest as if you were protecting it. Quietly, you muttered, “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”
Across from you, there was a short laugh, almost a scoff. “It will,” Spencer responded in the same reverent tone. For a second, you thought it might be a joke, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was serious.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#jennifer jareau#david rossi#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#written by margot#spencer reid x fem!reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)
Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...
Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable
Masterlist
“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk.
“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything.
Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her.
It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend.
The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk.
Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about.
“Are you talking about Reid?”
“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”
Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”
“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”
“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”
“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”
Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”
JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?”
“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”
“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”
“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”
By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through.
Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”
“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”
“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”
Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went.
There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either.
Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined.
The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket.
You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’. Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift.
Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you.
“Hey, Spence-“
“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”
You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell.
“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”
Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste.
He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.
It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear.
“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”
“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”
“Well, still-“
“Hey, pretty boy!”
Spencer froze.
“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”
Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him.
You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?”
“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”
“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?”
“Yes.”
“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”
“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”
“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.”
The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work.
“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.”
“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?”
“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.”
He chuckled. “Will do.”
With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too.
If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case.
As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...
#ithebookhoarder#masterlist#thesilentmage#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x you#derek morgan#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#david rossi
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bunk Up
Summary: Arthur invites you on a hunting trip, but you foolishly forget your tent. No harm done, you can bunk up with him, right?
Rating: nsfw, smut
Warnings/Content: a deer gets killed (camp's gotta eat), female masturbation, dry humping, fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).
Word count: 3,132
Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.
…………......................………………………………….
Why in god's green earth had you agreed to go on this hunting trip again?
Oh yeah, because you have a hard-on for Arthur Morgan… figuratively, that is.
It'd be alright if you could just tell him your feelings, but you'd prided yourself on liking more respectable, more rich men in the past; that's the easiest way to make a living, at the end of the day. You'd originally intended to go for the gang leader, but that man is oblivious and stubborn as hell, not to mention not actually rich, much to your displeasure.
Then Arthur had introduced himself to you. His stupid snarky remarks and silly outfits and disgustingly beautiful eyes all seemed to merge together into this gorgeous man that loomed in front of you and had your knees almost buckling.
Even worse, he'd noticed the way your demeanour changed and how your body seemed to crumble under the weight of his soft eyes.
“Hey! Are you even listenin’ to me?” His gruff voice breaks you from your trance.
“ ‘course I am, I always listen to your wise words, Mr Morgan.” You remark, looking up at him from the position you'd had your eyes trained on seconds ago. “Yeah, sure.” You feel his rough fingertips turn your chin back towards the deer in front of you, a gesture that makes heat rise in your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears.
“Take the shot, you got a perfect shot there, can't miss it.”
The cold varnished wood cools your warm cheeks as you bring it close to your face and grit your teeth.
“Always shoot on empty lungs.” His whisper sends shivers down your spine before you take the shot, a loud crack echoing through the trees as a clatter of birds ascends into the sky.
“You did good! That was perfect.” A soft grunt leaves his throat as he gets up and checks the prey. “Think Pearson will make a good meal outta this,” his eyes then meet yours. “Good girl.” he tips his hat to you.
Damn Arthur Morgan, with that shit eating grin that makes your stomach flutter.
“You know I ain't one for pickin’ on people–” Arthur starts, shoveling chunks of peaches in his mouth, “but I don't think I've ever seen someone forget their tent on a huntin’ trip.”
“Ok, for one, you're always picking on people, ‘specially if you don't like ‘em. And for two… just– shut the hell up.” You pull your coat tighter around your body to shield yourself from the cold rain drizzling down your neck, the soft fur bringing you some warmth and comfort to your otherwise shaking body.
“Easy girl, don't be gettin’ mad at me now. Besides, it means you get to share a tent with me, ain't that a dream?” A simple grumble from you makes the man chuckle lowly. “I won't take that personally.”
It was a dream, and you hated admitting that.
Luckily, you'd remembered your bed roll, so at least you didn't have to snuggle up under the cotton sheets with your rugged partner… but, admittedly, a small part of you is disappointed at that.
You try to forget about those thoughts that are festering in the back of your mind and making you squeeze your legs together, but as the cold seeps into your bones and makes yourself huddle further into the sheets, you find yourself backing up against the warm body behind you.
The soft rustle of trees keeps you awake, at least that's what you tell yourself at first, not wanting to give into those filthy images of the cowboy flashing behind your eyelids.
Soon, all too soon for your liking, you find yourself panting. It's barely audible, but it's enough to make yourself embarrassed and look back at the outlaw peacefully sleeping behind you, unaware of the pictures you have playing on loop in your head. It makes you bite your lip; the thought of touching yourself right next to the man you've been meaning to tell your feelings to for months.
Quietly and carefully, you slide your hand over your body and between your legs, rubbing your already damp cunt over the fabric of your underwear. The feeling makes you grit your teeth much like earlier, and a small noise sneaks past your lips. You look back at Arthur again to see his chest still rising and falling slowly… fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?
Your hand slips into your underwear before you're even registering it. It's too cold to take the blanket off, or even your underwear for that matter, so you just run your fingers through your wet folds under the thin fabric. The slick noise it makes sounds too loud in the quiet forest, but at this point you're pretty sure the man is asleep, so you continue teasing yourself.
Your fingers circle your hole as you imagine it being his thick digits instead, or maybe even his tongue, since he's usually so quick with it. Another wet noise fills the tent when your fingers slide inside your needy cunt, buried to your knuckles as you massage that glorious spot inside you. When you pick up the pace, and the noises get louder, you're practically praying, wishing it was Arthur's fingers instead. They'd stretch you wide and fuck you good, the thought makes you shove some of the blanket in your mouth.
You're teetering on the edge at this point, scanning your brain for that final image that'll send you descending down the cliff… but a thick arm wrapping around your waist has you freezing in place.
“What have we got here?” Arthur's low, sleepy voice has the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, raising goosebumps all over your body as if he'd just ripped the sheets from your body.
“Arthur!–shit, I'm sorry–." You start, but his nose pressing against the back of your neck makes you stop in your tracks.
“I ain't judgin’ you, girl. We've all got our urges, desires.” He shuffles up closer to you, closing in on your body till his chest is pressed against your back, and his crotch is angled perfectly against your thighs. “Just wanted to know what you were thinkin’ about.”
God, his voice is so soft and low, it could make you fall asleep if your fingers weren't still knuckle deep inside yourself. “I–uhm…” Should you admit it? With the way he's pressing against you, it makes you think you should.
“You.”
“ ‘s that so? And why ain't you told me about this before, sweetheart?” His breath is hot on the back of your neck, pushing out any coldness that was left in your body as his large hand splays across your stomach and strokes your soft skin.
A huff escapes your nose a little louder than you expected. “Because… I'm embarrassed, I don't wanna be thinking about you like this.” You mumble ashamedly, but as those words leave your lips, you start moving your fingers inside your cunt again; a ‘come hither’ motion that makes you bite your lip to contain your noises.
“Oh, that ain't very nice. You ain't exactly a saint ya'self, Darlin’.”
Fuck, the way his words roll off his tongue makes you roll against your hand with a soft noise.
The action must've pleased Arthur, because he lets out a pant and presses his hips closer to yours, grinding in tandem with you as your hips roll on your fingers.
This feels so strange and wrong, but you aren't sure why. It's not like Arthur is married or even has a girl, he's just as lonely as you, and maybe that's exactly why you're so drawn to each other.
“Mmm, been dreamin’ ‘bout this for months, pressing against you like this.” He groans softly. His chin is placed neatly on your shoulder, cheek pressing against yours as his stubble itches your skin. He feels so warm and big behind you, like he's shielding you from any and every burden, and as his hips rock against yours more, you can't help but do the same. You grind back on him with short, soft pants, tilting your head to just get a glimpse of his blissed out face.
“When was the last time you did something like this, cowboy? You're acting like you're gonna cum in your night clothes.”
That makes a soft chuckle leave his red lips, flushed face pulling away from yours to look down at you.
“Long enough to be needin’ you.”
His words make you shiver, but he's quick to distract you with his hand taking your wrist and swatting your hand away.
“Lemme do it for you, sweetheart, please?”
Before your brain can even question or think about it, your body is telling him yes, your head nodding almost instantly. His fingers are quick to dive into your under garments and slide through your slick folds, a groan from him ringing in your ears.
“Dammit girl, you must have one hell of an imagination to make ya'self this wet… Jesus.” He grunts, looking down at his hand in your underwear with only the dim light of the lantern making your skin glow.
“I always get like this when I think of you, Arthur.” You tell him as your hand wraps around his wrist. “You're the only one that can make me cum.” You moan in his ear, making him dive his fingers into your needy cunt.
The stretch is wonderful, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it, and it's just how you expected, if not better. His thick digits curl and glide over your walls until he finally feels you squirm against him as they touch that delicious spot.
“Yeah? You like it there, darlin’? Want me to keep goin’?”
Again, your body simply speaks for you, nodding quickly and grinding down on his fingers. You feel him grind his hips against you again, his body seemingly wanting to get impossibly closer to you as he ruts against your ass.
“You're such a pretty girl, y'know that? Been waitin’ to tell you that since the day we met.” He rests his chin on your arm so he can peck the exposed skin and continue curling his fingers inside you.
The tent is once again filled with the filthy sounds of your hole taking two fingers, sloppy wet sounds that would make you feel ashamed if it didn't feel so fucking good. It feels like all your nerves are being stroked at once, each time his fingers brush against your tummy or stroke your walls feels like you can't get enough of the electricity that runs through your body. You grip his thick arm, looking back at him as moans fall from your lips.
“You're damn good… shit.” You whimper as he looks up at you, big round eyes meeting yours to show he's there.
“Well, I appreciate that, comin’ from you.” He chuckles lightly, his own words breathy while his hips start to snap a little faster and become sloppy. “You gotta lemme feel this cunt for myself, please sweetheart, lemme feel this cunt clench around my cock.”
You find it hard to stop rocking your hips when he's talking to you like that, but eventually you take a deep breath and stop yourself. His fingers slip out of you with a lewd sound, and you feel him shuffle to get his night clothes off.
Your own are gone within seconds, your body too hot and needy to worry about if you'd thrown them outside to the wolves to get torn to shreds, all you can focus on is the man behind you.
As much as this position made you wet before, you desperately want to see his handsome face, even if it is barely visible. So, you flip onto your other side and rest your hands on his chest, the warmth spreading through your fingers. You can practically feel his excitement buzzing off of him and through your body, and it makes you giggle a little. “Jesus, you really ain't done this in a while, have you?”
“Not with a girl as pretty as you, sweetheart.” One hand slides over your cheek while his other finally gets his clothes off.
Just his tone alone makes your cheeks heat up, but as he leans in for a kiss, you find yourself taking in a breath of surprise. It's easy to melt into his arms and get lost in the feeling of his lips; they're surprisingly soft and sweet, and they feel like they fit perfectly on yours.
You're so swept up that it takes you a second to notice his hand snaking around the back of your knee and pulling your hips closer to himself.
That's when you feel it.
His length rests against your slick pussy lips, your leg now cocked over his waist to get him close. It feels bigger than you expected, thicker than you expected, it makes you whine softly on his lips.
You hate his little grin that you feel spread across his face. “Impatient, ain't you?” He teases, slowly rocking his hips against yours to let his cock slide through your sopping folds. His tip manages to butt against your clit each time, making you furrow your brows and moan softly on his lips.
Your hand is still resting on his cheek as you feel him push in for the first time, and god are you glad you're holding onto your bedroll with the other, because the stretch and the way he fills you makes you almost cum on the spot, a loud moan spilling from your lips to make you whimper embarrassedly.
“Oh sweetheart, don't be embarrassed. I love the noises you're makin’ for me, they're makin’ me so goddamn hard, can you do it again for me?” He asks as he pulls his hips back before sliding inside your warm, slick walls again.
You're quick to oblige to his plea, your body automatically reacting with a soft choked moan at the surprise of his thick cock stretching you once again. You can feel his calloused fingers still gripping the back of your knee to hold your leg up, giving him the perfect angle for his length to hit every nerve you have inside you and send sparks of arousal up your spine.
“Thaaat’s a good girl, look at'chu.” The man purrs, his warm breath making your eyes flutter shut so you can focus on his cock spearing you with each slow, deep thrust.
“Holy shit, Arthur, f–feels like you're splitting me in half.” You moan as your hands slide over his thick biceps and along his broad shoulders, finding that the perfect place for you to grip on for dear life too.
Arthur groans before leaning forward to press a kiss on the top of your head as he pants softly. “Biggest you've had, huh? Never felt somethin’ like this inside you, have you?” He doesn't accept the simple shake of your head, instead giving you a sharp thrust that has your nails dig into his flesh and a whimper spill from your lips. “No! No, I haven't… I love it, dammit, I love your cock.”
Something inside him seems to click as you say those words, a long moan slipping from his throat as his grip becomes tighter on your leg to pull you closer to him, his cock burying deeper inside you. He doesn't give you time to adjust before his hips are colliding with yours and the sounds of both your arousal soaked thighs are filling your ears and sending waves of pleasure from your head to your toes.
“Listen to those filthy noises, girl, that's all you. That's your wet cunt..” Arthur manages to moan out. He tilts his head down to watch your hips connecting, his head resting against your collar bones. “What a pretty cunt it is too… shit, I ain't ever felt somethin’ as good as this, miss.” His words seem to roll off of his tongue with ease, as if he's a erotic poet reciting the words he's scrawled down on the page. Maybe it has something to do with that journal he's writing in all the time… lord above how you'd love to read that.
“For you, Mr Morgan,” you blabber without even thinking about the words coming from your mouth. “I'm all for you, want you to take me like this over and over–.” It's funny how worked up you get over your own words, but it seems to have an even better effect on Arthur.
His brows knit together as his jaw hangs open a little, and dirty blonde strands of hair fall in his face and stick to his forehead perfectly.
“Shit, girl, you're gonna make me finish inside you if you keep talkin’ like that…” The man groans, his lip finding its way between his teeth to give him something to chew on. Somehow, his thrusts get faster, impossibly better as you feel the molten heat spread through your body and up to your throat to make you moan his name, along with any other expletives that come to mind.
Before you can stop yourself, you're saying dangerous words that, with any other man, would be like handing a loaded gun to a baboon.
“I want you to do that Arthur! Please– please cum inside me–” Your entire body tenses up before you come crashing down, whaling and grasping onto him for dear life as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm and make sharp thrusts that have you whimpering loudly. Your walls clench him tightly in pulsing rhythm, driving him closer and closer to the edge.
It's only a few more seconds before he's tearing his body away from yours and fisting himself, white ropes shooting all over your tummy as groans and growls rumble in his chest and his head throws back.
You watch the whole scene in front of you in awe, as if you're at the goddamn theatre watching a play… no, it's better than that. You'd never had time for the theatre, but you always have time for Arthur, despite how he gets on your nerves sometimes.
You smile softly at him as he lifts his head to look down at you, a smug grin on his face as he leans forward and pecks your lips.
“Hey, what's with the grin?” You huff softly and hit his chest playfully.
“Nothin’ just been waitin’ for you to admit your feelin's for me for a while now.”
An annoyed growl leaves your lips as you feel your face heat up with embarrassment, burying it in his chest instead to save you from his teasing.
“Shut the hell up, Morgan…”
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan smut#rdr2#rdr2 smut#red dead redemption#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan x reader
746 notes
·
View notes
Note
Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz
A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ
You can read the first part here!
Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?
You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]
As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward.
If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats.
The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you.
Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind.
With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.
The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend.
"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks.
"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up.
"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively.
"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?"
"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable."
He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself.
Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned.
"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible.
"Um, Spencer?"
"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up.
"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day."
"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise."
"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on.
"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work."
"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier.
"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?"
You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.
He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out.
But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again.
You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.
"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well."
"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.
"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist.
"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this.
"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.
You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up.
"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs.
His fingers find your clit and you whimper.
"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves.
His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target.
"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck.
"Spencer, please, need you…"
"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you.
You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest.
He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice.
"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements.
You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion.
"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck.
"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust.
He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath.
"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess.
You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him.
"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours.
"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly.
"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply.
"What? I… What?"
"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements."
"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully.
"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?"
"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh.
"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint.
"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds smut#maturereiding
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Lynda Carter will be part of ‘100 Years Of Warner Bros.’ 4-part Documentary Series
Warner Bros. Discovery is reaching back to its past to celebrate a century of entertainment in a new, four-part documentary series.
Narrator Morgan Freeman will guide viewers through “100 Years of Warner Bros.,” offering clips from past TV shows and films, along with takes from the directors, actors, and executives who created the magic, and commentary from journalists and historians who watched it all unfold.
The four specials trace the history from the studio’s humble founding in the early 1920s through its growth into today’s multinational entertainment giant. The first two segments will bow at the Festival de Cannes on May 24 an an Official Cannes Classics selection.
The series will debut on streamer Max starting Thursday, May 25 with the first two specials, followed by the third and fourth segments on June 1 via Max.
All four were directed by filmmaker Leslie Iwerks. More information is available at WB100.com.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
the evening stretch | warm-up series.
ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.
✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+
✧ wc : 2.7k
✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.
this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.
✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆
Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.
He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.
Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.
It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.
Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.
It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.
You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.
But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.
You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.
The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.
Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.
"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."
He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.
"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."
"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.
"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"
"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."
He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.
"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."
You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.
"Is that so?"
He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."
"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."
That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.
"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."
"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"
"Trelawny, I'd guess."
You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."
"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"
Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.
You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.
Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.
He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.
"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."
"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."
'"Read my mind, then."
"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"
His smile widens.
"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"
You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.
"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."
You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.
"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"
"I'm afraid I do,"
You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.
"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.
"Burn? You feeling warm?"
"Arthur!"
And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.
"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.
"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."
He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.
"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"
"Sweetheart—"
"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."
"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."
Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."
He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.
Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.
There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.
His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.
It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.
He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.
Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.
"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"
"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"
And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.
You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.
Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.
Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.
He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.
When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.
The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.
Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.
He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.
"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"
Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.
Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.
He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.
You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."
You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.
It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.
His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.
"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"
You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.
And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.
He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.
"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."
Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.
He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.
He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.
He's sure that will always be true.
When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.
And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.
Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.
Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.
You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.
"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."
Arthur beams at you unapologetic.
"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"
You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.
"Insatiable man."
"Only for you, my girl."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆
#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 x reader#arthur morgan smut#rdr2 smut#rogues love letters#zero.arthur#this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP???#i need to sleep its nearly 8. jesus christ.
615 notes
·
View notes
Text
Discretions and Devotions
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
WC: 1.2k
A/N: Decided to make this a mini series, in terms that the chapters will be short, but still entertaining since the idea of this makes me giggle. (Gender Neutral Reader btw)
Part 1: Hangovers and Hickies
Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan was on the case.
Obviously, something was going on between you and Spencer. That much he could deduce. But to what extent? For how long?
Since he needed these questions answered, he would require backup from his favorite girl.
“Enter and be known.” Rang out from behind the door when Derek knocked on it. He swung the door open and closed it behind him.
“Babygirl. Put your detective cap on.”
Garcia swiveled around in her chair and raised an eyebrow.
“I think Y/n and Reid are sleeping together.”
Garcia’s eyes lit up. “What’s your proof.”
“Well, Y/n came in today with a hickey and was completely hungover. Then Spencer brought in McDonald’s and Dunkin as a hangover cure—“
“They could’ve just texted one another Derek, you know that he’s completely smitten and would’ve just taken it upon himself to cure their hangover…”
He shook his head. “Let me finish. Then Y/n said that it was Reid’s fault that they ‘were like this’. Plus, both of them are wearing scarves or sweaters with neck coverage…”
Garcia's mouth dropped open. “No…”
Derek nodded and crossed his arms. “And Reid started blushing because of whatever Y/n said, but then ran away before I could ask him any questions.”
“Oh, so they’re sleeping together.” Garcia nodded along with Derek.
“Exactly, but they won’t say anything about it.”
“I love you, but no. If this was the first time, why would they want to talk about it at all, but….If this has been happening for a while then it’s a secret. And I always uncover secrets” Penelope stood up, and all but stomped out of her bat cave and down to the bullpen, where you were feeling much better, having eaten some greasy foods to combat the headache.
“Where’s the fire?” You looked up as you saw Garcia headed over to you.
“Are you sleeping with Reid?”
“Woah. First off. Don’t go screaming that question in the middle of the bullpen.” You crossed your arms. “Second, who said I was?”
“You’re deflecting. So it’s true?”
You rolled your eyes. “Pen. I said that it was Reid’s fault I was drunk last night. But that’s where that ends. One of his papers just got nominated for some award and we went out to a bar to celebrate. I’m a good friend. And then, somehow, I had a bunch to drink, which caused me to flirt with some guy, and then take him home and uh….he went a little crazy with the whole hickey thing so…” You raised your eyebrows. “Can I give you any more information to give to Derek or is that enough.”
“Hm.” Garcia's lips twisted slightly as she looked you up and down, trying to decide if you were telling the truth.
“Garcia I love you but can you profile me at a different time, I have a consultant call in five.”
She sighed but nodded. “This isn’t over.”
“I didn’t think it would be.” You grumbled and turned back around to your computer.
————————————————————————
You were able to avoid conversations with Garcia and Morgan for the rest of the day, which was nice considering you didn’t really want to talk about your sex life in the bullpen for anyone to hear.
Especially since the opposite party would be within earshot.
But that didn’t stop Garcia and Morgan from trying their damndest to get you or Reid to talk. At some point during the day, you were sure you saw Derek corner Spencer into a closet, which ended poorly since clearly he was not given the answers he wanted when you saw Spencer walk by earlier with a smug look on his face.
You decided to leave about half an hour earlier since you came in early. It worked out nicely and you were able to enjoy the walk to the subway by yourself, listening to your music and enjoying the fresh winter air.
The peace was interrupted when someone sat directly next to you causing you to look up with a pissed-off look on your face, that quickly melted into something a lot happier.
“Hey, you. I thought you were going to stay late today.” You smiled up at him and kissed his cheek. He shook his head and took your hand in his.
“I was but then getting chased around by SSA Tweedle Dee and Technical Analyst Tweedle Dum made me want to leave as soon as I could. Then I decided on it when Derek cornered me in the bathroom. Plus you left early and I’d rather spend time with you.”
Your eyes widened. “The bathroom?”
Spencer nodded and rolled his eyes.
“They’re persistent, that’s for sure.” You grumbled.
“Well, considering how long it took them to figure out that the possibility of us being together was real, I think we’ll be okay.” He murmured, kissing your hand.
“Those two could leave no rock unturned and still find nothing but sand.” You snorted.
Spencer laughed and squeezed your hand.
“I mean.” You sighed. “Today was a close call. Not that hiding is a bad thing or anything, like I know we’ve talked about it a lot, but still sometimes I get worried about if we’re ven doing the right thing or—“
“You’re starting to sound like me.” Spencer laughed softly, cutting you off. “But I get it. We slipped up.”
“We?!?! Excuse you. I think you mean you slipped up. You went a little crazy on the neck there Spencer.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I could slap that stupid grin off of your face Doctor Reid.”
The two of you looked like two good friends, maybe something more if an eagle-eyed observer was searching for it, but nothing more. It was a science the two of you had perfected in case you were spotted together by someone from the team, or really anyone that was willing to snitch to them.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to cover for much longer though. If Derek suddenly remembers how good he is at his job then we’re fucked.”
“Royally.” You agreed and rested your head on his shoulder.
The two of you sat like that for the rest of the ride, only moving to get off at your station.
You and Spencer took your time walking home, even though it was cold out. The sun was shining, which was rare enough as it was, which made you feel a bit better. Eventually, you made it back to your shared apartment where Spencer put in the code to get you both into the building.
You and Spencer were a minimal PDA couple, not because your relationship wasn’t very well known, but because neither of you felt the need to be overtly touchy with one another.
But today, with the sun, and the enjoyment of the fact that Spencer was home earlier than promised got to you. And before you entered, you kissed him softly on the lips, enjoying the feeling.
This was your fatal mistake since at that exact moment, one Emily Prentiss drove by and saw the whole thing.
#x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x reader fluff#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x gn!reader#spencer reid x reader angst#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#Spencer reid x y/n angst#spencer reid masterlist#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic
424 notes
·
View notes
Text
13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)
13 Eras of us Era 1
This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.
August 2016
And isn’t it just so pretty to think
All along there was some invisible string
While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird.
It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you.
But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice.
Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them.
The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew.
You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves.
You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask.
You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you.
You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight.
It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland.
The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other.
It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction.
You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again.
“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face.
You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”
“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,”
“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows.
“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head.
There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations.
You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been.
If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime.
She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team.
She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,”
You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her.
“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,”
You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,”
“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin.
“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey.
“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes.
You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces.
You didn’t need to see it.
“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,”
She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,”
Your eyebrows furrowed.
Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills.
She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true.
Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you.
It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.
You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help.
“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”
You shook your head along with the group.
It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you.
“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill.
Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path.
“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,”
A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,”
She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.
You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much.
You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby.
Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged.
OoOoOoO
You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal.
You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out.
It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.
You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands.
You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head.
Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner.
It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork.
“Not bad,”
You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT.
“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again.
You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you.
“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”
You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,”
She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,”
You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,”
“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,”
Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that.
“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,”
You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot.
She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back.
You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up.
Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal.
You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel.
Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup.
Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish.
“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net.
“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”
Your nose scrunched at the options.
You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much.
She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio?
When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?
“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot.
“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,”
Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out).
She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics.
You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do.
You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick.
It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look.
If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play.
She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick.
“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot.
She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”
Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips.
It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second.
She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes.
At least someone else saw it too.
“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,”
You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team.
You would take any help you could get.
*****
“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you.
She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower.
“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her.
“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender. “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”
It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…
Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did.
“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley.
Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,”
You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together.
“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone.
“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,”
Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,”
“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,”
Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”
She had never heard of Taylor before.
Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,”
“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table.
Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks.
Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,”
“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,”
“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you.
She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop.
You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,”
“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,”
“She’s my friend,” You muttered.
“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,”
You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,”
“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted.
And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,”
Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again.
The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted.
“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer.
Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York.
“At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”
“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed.
“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her.
She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too.
“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal.
“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,”
A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,”
“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,”
“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter.
“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,”
“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes.
“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her.
“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.
Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down.
“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,”
Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat.
Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair.
“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,”
You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid.
It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it.
You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth.
You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it.
“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness.
“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping.
Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,”
Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite.
Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list.
*****
“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you.
“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,”
You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes.
You couldn’t meet her eyes.
It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced.
It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much.
“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder.
You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you.
“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you.
“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,”
Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,”
While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself.
“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,”
No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,”
Alex nodded.
She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia.
But she could see that you were not fine.
She wished you trusted her enough to admit it.
“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,”
“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand.
Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”
You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot.
“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,”
Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes.
They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to.
They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old.
“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”
Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics.
“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening.
You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,”
Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot.
She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions.
She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest.
You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability.
“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,”
Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,”
“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.
A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.
The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle.
It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work.
She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”
She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help.
All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed.
“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,”
She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer.
The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio.
She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,”
She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that.
“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses.
You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,”
The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time.
You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”
She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,”
You hummed, turning away.
She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal.
But she wished it didn’t sting as much.
******
You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast.
You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying.
It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough.
You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York.
You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip.
You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).
“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”
You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”
She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk.
“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,”
“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,”
She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,”
“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense.
You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove.
You had everything to prove.
“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”
You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,”
“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,”
You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team.
She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset.
You had proven them wrong.
The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone.
Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor.
She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio.
You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team.
You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently.
“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?”
“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,”
She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second.
“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?”
“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”
“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question.
The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started.
It was the nice thing about camp.
You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.
“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you.
“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing.
You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you.
You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was.
“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in?
You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”
You could eat after you were finished with your call.
“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand. “come on,”
“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”
“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen.
“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,”
“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,”
You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought.
You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend.
OoOoOoO
September 2016
Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it too soon to do this yet?
Cause I know that it’s delicate
The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.
With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness.
You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter.
It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal.
What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back.
With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there.
Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue.
Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration.
That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York.
And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable.
Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.
But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor.
You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship.
It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?
You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled.
But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor.
“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder.
Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”
You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease.
You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”
She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,”
You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,”
She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting.
“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,”
She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.
“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”
“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise.
“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”
She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”
“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”
“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,”
“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,”
You didn’t want to be too… forward.
You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same.
“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,”
“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”
She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested.
“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”
“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”
You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably.
You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche.
You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it.
“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,” She said, laying a hand on your shoulder.
“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,”
You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates.
Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…
God you were really starting to lose the plot.
Taylor was your friend.
“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”
“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,”
Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,”
You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye.
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her.
“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.
You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,”
Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching.
So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks.
Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind.
Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass.
“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”
You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”
“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,”
“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar.
It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling.
You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away.
You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship.
You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor.
********
“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,”
It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second.
She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone.
She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles.
Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”
Taylor rolled her eyes.
You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge.
“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said.
Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”
It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips.
That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it.
“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously.
“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”
Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.
“I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip.
“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”
Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,”
“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass.
“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”
“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”
“Yes,” Taylor nodded.
Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18.
“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,”
“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed.
She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects.
You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship.
“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,”
Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,”
She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message.
Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”
Taylor groaned again.
She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head.
But this was different.
You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted.
And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to.
“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly,
“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”
Taylor bit her lip.
Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was.
“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,”
Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,”
“Thanks,”
******
Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading.
There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on.
It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it.
If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans.
You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway.
Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist.
But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest.
She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door.
She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate.
It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls.
But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her.
Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door.
“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”
Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat.
“Is Y/n here?”
Her voice came out shaky, horse.
Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope.
“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively.
“Oh,”
Taylor’s whole being deflated.
If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?
Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,”
Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?”
You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends.
Why had you lied?
Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it.
“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,”
“Oh,” Taylor breathed out.
A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”
Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,”
Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,”
Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed.
What did Christen mean? What did you ruin?
“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting.
Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you.
Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,”
“Thanks,”
Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand.
Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”
“I will,”
Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise.
“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”
“I know,” Taylor matched her grin.
Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.
She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had.
******
Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange.
Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you.
They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show.
How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust.
How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater.
You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt.
Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do.
“Y/n,”
You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater.
You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio.
You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked.
“Y/n, wait!”
You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear.
You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo.
“Y/n,”
The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned.
Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well.
But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you.
“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you,”
“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,”
You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway.
At least the 51st station was heated.
“Y/n wait,”
Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you.
“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her.
How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?
You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young.
“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway.
“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”
Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence.
You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain.
It was like your brain had short-circuited.
You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her.
Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,”
You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes.
Taylor kissed you.
She kissed you in the rain.
Taylor liked you.
But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything.
You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.
Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss.
Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces.
Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck.
It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs.
You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90.
“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again.
“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.
You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows.
It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through.
It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.
Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,”
“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,”
You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket.
Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold.
“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor.
“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,”
Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it.
“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”
“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,”
He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”
Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,”
You raised an eyebrow at her.
Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car.
The thought made your stomach tumble.
Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam.
You shut down that thought.
It didn’t matter.
“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers.
“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper.
You didn’t feel cold.
She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,”
You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,”
She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”
“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll.
“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek.
Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”
“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips.
“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her.
She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head.
You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you
“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again.
She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt.
Maybe Emily was right.
Maybe you should just go with it.
OoOoOoO
You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.
Not yet.
Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender.
Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else.
But she couldn’t want you.
She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice.
You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees.
It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you.
You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint.
But maybe she did want you.
You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking.
You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room.
You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place.
“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”
You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,”
You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?”
Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,”
You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,”
She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,”
Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie.
Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…
She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”
You jerked your head away from her. “No,”
There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you.
Except…
your eyes closed.
Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain.
“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”
You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say.
Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister.
It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it.
“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?”
“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”
Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little.
But it was too late.
You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you.
“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,”
They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget.
The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.
But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong.
“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality.
Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”
She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about.
“What?”
“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.
You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.
But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing.
They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.
You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”
Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,”
You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,”
Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly.
She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior.
The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed.
What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave.
******
November 2016
Windows flung right open, autumn air,
Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours
It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home.
You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east.
There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants.
You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning.
But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood.
You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces.
You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win.
“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you.
You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”
“No,” Emily shrugged.
It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way.
It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots.
“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,”
You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them.
Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it.
No one else had to know that.
“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight.
“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam.
“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”
“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you.
You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off.
You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”
“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats.
“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,”
You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower.
“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,”
You met her eyes, swallowing hard.
“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her.
You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy.
It didn’t have to be complicated.
“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,”
You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair.
You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,”
You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett.
“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door.
You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,”
Before slamming the locker room door shut.
You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you.
Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching.
You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages.
You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to.
They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code.
Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone.
Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?
Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway.
You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her.
Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet.
Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there.
You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized.
“Hey hotshot,”
“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view.
You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants.
But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it.
“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.
“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features.
You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes.
“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,”
The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes.
Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own.
“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you.
You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game.
You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly.
“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,”
You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,”
Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to.
You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours.
Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug.
“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you.
You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,”
It was true.
It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones.
It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.
The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain.
“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.
You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,”
“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach.
You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble.
Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?”
“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,”
It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can.
“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand.
You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks.
Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”
OoOoOoO
Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless.
The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back.
It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway.
Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh.
It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car.
She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity.
Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment.
You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well.
She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door.
That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you.
You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable.
You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain.
“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point.
“What?”
You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.
“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,”
Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”
You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it). “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”
Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster.
You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…
“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern.
You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her.
“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”
The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you.
“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,”
You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker.
***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***
You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,”
You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water.
It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool.
You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings.
Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm.
It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words.
Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom.
You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor.
She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool.
“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”
Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish.
You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes.
You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,”
She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her.
You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there.
All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear.
It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone.
Not even Mal.
“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water.
You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,”
She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,”
You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”
Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?”
“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss.
You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her.
She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor.
It was sweet and spicy and addictive.
And it made you want her.
You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations.
You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin.
You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning.
Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer.
You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you.
You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?”
Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,”
Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,”
*****
Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm.
You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off.
It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer.
You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off.
Except it’s where your mind always went.
Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers.
You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable.
“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin.
“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted.
She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”
You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface.
“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”
She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold.
“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,”
Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,”
You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool.
“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,”
“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”
You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom.
You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets.
It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.
“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.
“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,”
“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,”
Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left).
It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen.
There had to be something fucking wrong with you.
You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach.
You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet.
Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change.
You took another deep breath.
Being weird about any of this would just make it worse.
You could be normal.
You could save your friendship.
You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom.
Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,”
You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,”
She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,”
You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,”
She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water.
You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip.
Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle.
You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,”
She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,”
“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.
She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,”
“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,”
“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”
“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you
“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers.
Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder.
You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs.
Safe territory.
Territory that put you in control of the pace.
“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front.
You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass.
You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time.
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point.
Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”
You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach.
You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff.
“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue.
She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,”
“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple
You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her.
It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line.
It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward.
Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub.
You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down.
Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,”
“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach.
She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,”
“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,”
“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,”
“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek.
She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her.
You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done.
You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask.
“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,”
You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,”
She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?”
You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,”
It was the truth.
It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way.
She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”
“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead.
Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all.
***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***
OoOoOoO
Mornings were always your favorite.
You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.
It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams.
“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”
She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.
It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours.
She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you.
It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for.
You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back.
You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup.
But Taylor wasn’t a hookup.
Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too.
You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-.
You let out a long breath from your nose.
It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that.
You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that.
“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin.
“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,”
She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”
You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,”
She groaned. “Why are you awake?”
“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”
It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces.
You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her.
You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave.
You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return.
You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight.
“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you.
You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?”
“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.
“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.
“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”
You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,”
OoOoOoO
“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign.
You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it.
You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway.
“Is that why you decided to join me?”
“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”
You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you.
You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it.
“And you thought I’d want to talk,”
Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”
“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face.
She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team.
While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that.
You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor.
“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”
Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?”
You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?
“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way.
“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,”
You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her.
You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before.
But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with.
Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head.
It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine.
It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed.
She was still your friend.
You spat the word in your mind.
You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.
You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor.
And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you.
“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer.
“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,”
Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did.
“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?”
You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,”
“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed.
Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,”
Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”
“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“
You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected.
“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.”
Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop.
“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,”
It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off.
“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on.
It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence.
You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish.
What the fuck was wrong with you?
She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”
“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,”
“But the middle?” She asked.
You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck.
Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel.
“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk.
You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut.
It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started.
You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood.
She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running.
“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again.
“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,”
“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind.
“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence.
She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go.
You swallowed hard and matched her nod.
You could do slow steps.
You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street.
“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you.
Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?”
“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,”
Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited.
Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”
You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway.
OoOoOoO
You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you.
She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup.
She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work.
And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver.
Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery.
“Are we dating now?”
Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”
You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no.
“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know how to date,”
Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?”
“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,”
Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?”
“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears.
“Why?”
It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you.
You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,”
It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend.
You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you.
She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that.
Why would you get involved when everyone always left?
“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”
“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm.
“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,”
Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow.
It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened.
“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?”
Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”
“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,”
Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed.
How would things change? What would she expect?
But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest.
If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her.
“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady.
“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,”
“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head.
It didn’t have to be complicated.
#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#woso x reader#taylor swift x reader#taylor swift imagine#13 eras of us
459 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Party Trick
18+ Content. Minors DNI
Pairing: fem!reader x Spencer Reid
Description: After seeing a tutorial on how to pick a lock on handcuffs, reader decides to put it to the test to have a new party trick to show the others at the BAU. After doing it a few times with each hand, she gets bold and cuffs both wrists, leaving her trapped, until Spencer comes over and things get interesting.
Content Warning: Coarse language, panic, fear of embarrassment, restraints, Spencer laughs and teases reader, sub Spencer, Dom reader, mean reader, humiliation fetish, praising, degradation, orgasm denial, oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex.
Word Count: 3.2K
Y'all, I'm nervous as fuck to post this lmao. This has been in the drafts for a while. I'm not the best with smut because I haven't written it in a while. This is your warning. Read at your own risk.
Part two
Navigation || Masterlist || Join My Taglist || Request
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” Y/N spoke aloud to herself, an agitated huff leaving her lips.
An hour ago, she’d been watching some random YouTube videos, just mainly to pass the time. There was all sorts of dumb shit she watched, although when she came across a video or a man showing how to pick the locks of a handcuff with a bobby pin, it captured her interest. It seemed simple enough, cuff one hand to something beside you then use the bobby pin to pick the keyhole and free yourself.
She had way too much fun as she figured out exactly how to do it, starting with handcuffing herself to the handle on the nightstand. It took about five minutes to get herself free, the woman switching wrists eventually and getting herself freed with more practice.
Then she got cocky. All she could picture was using this as a party trick, having someone handcuff her hands behind her back while she used the pin that she could hide in the palm of her hand to escape. Then everyone would be astonished and impressed. So, she was determined to make that dream a reality.
It all happened so fast. She had the pin in the palm of her right hand, securely held as she used her left to cuff right wrist. In an attempt to close it with her hand still clamped around the pin, she did her best to lock the cuffs around her left wrist. However, in the act of finding a way to lock it, the pin slipped from yer grasp just as she had her wrists cuffed behind her back.
“Fuck!” She cursed, panic setting in from being trapped without anyone to help her. So, in an awkward attempt to lean down to grab the only thing that could free her, she was bending in all sorts of positions to try and secure the hairpin that was laying on the floor, almost taunting her. Well, now she’d be stuck in her apartment until someone figured out she was missing. Then she’d more than likely have a whole team of people to bust down her door and then laugh at her.
This was the opposite that she wanted. Now she’d be the talk of the team for trapping herself in handcuffs while trying some stupid attempt to free herself. She could already hear all the shit Derek would tease her with now.
“The amazing Y/N, going to show us the special trick that not all fbi agents should be trusted with handcuffs!”
“You know, you shouldn’t play with the tools we are given for the field.”
Derek fucking Morgan.
There was a sigh of defeat as Y/N was accepting her fate of being known for the idiot on the team who gets herself trapped.
However, she was pulled out of her thoughts when she could hear a knock against her apartment door. Thank God! Hopefully it was a family member or something. They’d understand that she did dumb things sometimes and would let her live it down more than her coworkers would.
While hurrying and running from her room like a criminal trying to escape capture with the cool metal of the handcuffs stabbing into their flesh, she was stopping at the front door. “Hold on!” She called, turning around first to try and reach the lock so she could unlock the door. However, when it wasn’t working out, she was huffing from irritation and turning around. She ended up having to use her mouth to unlock the top lock, same with the bottom.
“You’ll have to open the door!” She called, taking a few steps back. However, her heart dropped when she seen who was on the other side of the door. The only reason she was alerted of his presence early was from the way he was asking if she was alright. The moment that Spencer Reid came into view, Y/N face was bright red from embarrassment.
“Not a word of this to the team!” Her voice came out in a squeak, making the genius snort out a laugh as he walked around the woman after closing the door behind him. “How did you even manage to trap yourself?” He asked, not giving her time to answer.
“Y/N Houdini.” He snickered as he was stopping and bringing his hands to run over the metal of the cuffs restraining her arms behind her back. “Is this gonna be your debut into escapism magic? Cause I think you have to actually know how to escape to put on a show.” He continued on.
The words had Y/N’s face growing hotter from the teasing, a huff leaving her lips. “Get your laughs out. Come on.” She demanded while turning around soon after. “Piss me off and I’ll cuff you to your desk at the office and swallow the key.” Of course, all talk and no action from a woman who essentially trapped herself.
“Are you kidding?! I wouldn’t let you. Besides, I’ve seen enough of escapism magic to know how to escape.. Without losing the thing that will grant me freedom.” He commented while grabbing ahold of the cuffs while he chuckled. "Show me where the key is." He spoke, his tone level as the humor of the situation was losing it's power over him.
It wasn't fully lost on him though. In fact, he'd never let her live it down. "You know, the others would've probably forgot about this at some point.." He trailed off, looking around the walls decorated with tapestries, pictures, and some other miscellaneous wall decor. "I, however, will not." He smirked.
Stupid fucking eidetic memory.
"Ha ha. You're hilarious."
"I think you take the cake for being hilarious. Everyone is gonna love this story. I'm sure that even Hotch will get a laugh out of it."
"I hate you."
In reality, it was.. Kinda funny. The thought of seeing someone else on the team in the position she was currently in was enough to make her snort out a laugh of her own. "I'm a fucking idiot, huh?"
The words made Spencer wave her off. "Definitely not a genius but.. Maybe a little smarter than Morgan." His tone was teasing as he was grabbing the small box she showed him that contained the key to the cuffs suspending her.
His first mistake was freeing her, mainly because there was a form of blind trust after being the one to free him.
The minute that Spencer had those cuffs off and was handing her the metallic restraints and turned his back to her, she as using the opportunity to catch him off guard, the male's eyes widening the moment he felt the cold metal against his skin.
"Y/N! What the hell??"
Now it was her turn to laugh, her hands coming up to rest against her mouth. "Now who's the genius, Reid?" She taunted, all in good fun.
Spencer's face was red, eyes on the ground while he had to take in a breath. His body was tense, feeling powerless in the time being.
He was also incredibly turned on by the idea of doing whatever he needed to in order to get out of the cuffs.
The silence grew heavy, tension filling the air. "Oh, come on. Don't be mad at me, Spence. It's all in good fun!" She said while heading over to grab his upper arms. "You are so red," She pouted, her hands cupping the hot skin of his face as he was staring down at the woman, looking as submissive as ever.
That did something to her, a blush creeping up on her face as sinful thoughts began to plague her mind. The thought of leaving a whimpering, sticky mess. The way he'd definitely be the type to beg her for more while she was seated pretty on his lap, doing something like read a book while just being full.
The thoughts had her thighs tightly clenching, arousal surely coating her panties enough to make a wet spot.
Unable to help herself, it wasn't long until the tie around his neck was in her hand, pulling the man down to clash their lips together. The action had Spencer squeaking, although his lips were desperately slotting with hers in a messy kiss. He needed it. He needed her.
It wasn't abnormal for Spencer to have such thoughts, his coworker being on his mind since the moment she joined the team. How could he not be fond of her? She was beautiful, intelligent, plus she was probably the only person who would actually sit and listen to his ramblings whenever something came up.
She was perfect in every way really, however, he knew that there was a long list of things preventing a relationship within the team. Last thing he wanted was for himself or Y/N to be transferred to a different branch.
However his thoughts weren’t particularly on that right now, his body falling back against the plush mattress from a push, not even having time to register what was happening before the woman was straddling his waist. Her hands were on either side of his face, her lips pressing back against his in a more rough, needy kiss.
Spencer's wrists were fighting the cuffs, a huff being muffled against Y/N's lips as he realized that he was being denied the right to touch her, to let his hands caress her smooth skin. His heart was beating against his chest, almost as if it were dying to be released.
All of his thoughts were eventually going out the door the minute he felt the feeling of delicate fingers in his hair. However instead of savoring the feeling of her fingers threading through the messy head of curls, his mouth was agape as soon as her hand was roughly pulling Spencer's hair back.
"I'm gonna fuck you stupid, Dr. Reid."
Oh.
The words were enough to make a moan rip from Spencer’s throat, eyes trained up on the woman who was propping herself up on her knees in order to look down at the man.
“Cat got your tongue, doctor?” Y/N taunted while she was looking down at the man with a soft smirk. She didn’t even have to touch him and he was already putty in her hands. The way his eyes were trained on her, looking like a puppy begging for more. “‘Cause you were very vocal earlier when you had so much to say.” She mused.
“I-I” The woman was bringing her hands to Spencer’s shoulders, her hips rocking against his while awaiting an answer.
“I’m waiting.”
“I-I.. Fuck. I don’t have anything to s-say.” He stuttered, bucking his hips to try and relieve the pressure from his cock that was already standing at attention. “Who would’ve thought Spencer Reid would be quiet when someone is trying to talk to him? You don’t have any facts? Statistics?” She continued dragging on, nudging Spencer’s body back in order to have him lay down in the middle of the queen sized bed.
“Give me a statistic about..” She was looking around her bedroom while sliding down Spencer’s legs. “Ooh! A statistic about dominant and submissive dynamics..” She dragged out the word ‘submissive’ as her hands were slowly moving to unbutton his pants. His head was spinning, brain mush.
“A study showed that,” He paused as her fingers were quickly tugging down the zipper before her hands were pulling the slacks down his legs. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” She commented, her eyebrow raising as her movements came to a halt. “T-that 51% of men and 39-” His eyes were fluttering shut the minute he felt her mouth now ghosting over his hard cock in his underwear, her tongue licking over the wet spot of his boxers.
“39% of women are attracted to the idea of having a d-dominant or submissive partner..” He stuttered out, now lifting his hips in hopes of feeling those delicate fingers in the waistband of his boxers. Which, his wish was granted. “That’s really interesting, isn’t it? Good job, baby.” She hummed.
As his cock was revealed to her, she was grinning. His tip was red, beads of pre-cum rolling down his angry, desperate cock. “So pretty!” She praised, laying on her stomach between his legs as her hand was wrapping around the thick base of his cock, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip to smear the mess around.”Who knew Dr. Reid was hiding this? Always the shy and smart ones, huh?” She commented, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock.
Spencer could hear her talking, however he wasn’t responding. His brain was clouded, head falling back against the pillow that rested behind his head. “F-fuck.” He hissed, her tongue now running over the underside of the genius’ cock, cleaning up the mess that she’d already caused.
Her hands came out to rest firmly against his hips, holding him down from bucking like he so desperately tried to do. “P-please..” He let out a slow breath as his eyes were fluttering shut. His voice was shaking, tone laced with need and more desperation than she could’ve expected.
She smiled while licking over his cock one more time before granting him yet another desperate plea that fell from his lips in the form of a whimper. As her lips closed around his cock, she let her eyes flutter shut. Her tongue was flat, her head beginning to move in a slow motion. She was hollowing her cheeks while bobbing her head, her own moans vibrating around his already desperate cock. As she let her grip tighten on his hips, her eyes were opening to peak up at him through her eyelashes.
His curls were disheveled, his head thrown back as his chest was rapidly rising and falling. The strangled sounds of whimpers and pleads for more falling from his lips. It was a beautiful sight, she knew that much.
Spencer wasn’t the only one wildly turned on, Y/N’s panties being absolutely drenched at this point. From her position, she could rock her hips against the mattress, just wanting to relieve the pressure in her clit as she could practically feel her heartbeat in the bundle of nerves. She was growing desperate herself, needing to feel his cock inside her, stretching her out with the delicious burn that came with it.
She was pulled from her thoughts when she could feel the twitch of his cock, indicating he was close. That was her cue to pull off with a loud ‘pop’ echoing through the room along with a small whine falling from Spencer's lips. That whine was enough to make her clench around nothing.
“Shush.” She breathed while wiping the spit from her jaw with her thumb, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she was eventually standing, enough to shimmy her pants and panties down her legs to reveal her glistening cunt. Spencer’s eyes were trailing slowly up her now bare legs, eyes coming to her pussy while his mouth was open, pupils blown out from lust. “Please let me touch you. Wanna- Fuck- Wanna be able to-” He was cut off by her lips, the two sharing a chaste kiss before her teeth were sinking into his lower lip, giving it a playful tug before letting it go.
“Not this time.” She spoke softly, her lips kissing him once more before she was crawling over him again, her hands running over his clothed chest while moving between them.
As soon as she had his cock in her hands, all sense of reason went out the window. To be fair, neither of them were really thinking of a condom right now.
After teasing herself by tapping his tip against her clit, she sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Spencer.” She whispered, eventually sinking down his base. Her head was lolling forward, her mouth agape as she was sinking fully, their pelvises now flush against one another’s. “Holy fuck.”
Spencer on the other hand had to think of anything other than cumming inside of her before she even got a chance to even ride him. However, he felt like she’d ultimately end up overstimulating him in that scenario. He didn’t want that now though. No, he’d rather wait until he didn’t have fucking metal preventing him from gripping onto her hips, letting him fuck up into her rather than be forced to watch her have every ounce of control and power. Even though he had to admit, he could get used to this.
As her velvety walls were clenching around his cock, she was leaning forward slightly as her hips were rolling against his, her head falling forward as she cried out softly. With the length that Spencer had, the right angle would have his tip pushing perfectly against the spongy spot deep inside her that was making her see stars already.
“F-fuck. You f-feel amazing.” It was Spencer's turn to talk, watching the way her tits were bouncing with every movement, even with a clothed torso, she had the man below salivating at the thought of what lay below that blue cardigan. “You take m-my cock so well.” Even through the grunts and groans, there was still a hint of him being unsure. This wasn’t really something he did often, so here we was, doing something he’d seen once or twice in the few pornos he’d consumed at some point. “Ah! Fuck, Reid. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, you- ugh.” Y/N breathed, continued her motions while doing her best to quicken her pace, even though her bounces were growing a bit sloppy, her legs getting tired.
With the grip of his tie and a loud cry of his name, it wasn’t long until she was creaming on his cock, a thin veil of sweat on her face as she was continuing her movements. “Fuck. You gonna cum, Reid? Wanna fill me up? She spoke, the words sending electricity through the man’s body as his cock was twitching once more.
He’d done his best to thrust his hips upward, a low groan leaving his lips as he only needed a few more movements before his vision went white.
Y/N was a whimpering mess, feeling the warm gush of cum that Spencer was coating her inner walls with, the woman’s upper body gently falling forward as her eyes flutter shut.
They laid there for a while, the woman clutching tightly onto her close friend while trying to catch her breath. “Remind me to carry around those handcuffs more often.” She spoke, a light laugh leaving her lips as she was lifting her hips and moving off of him soon after.
“Maybe don’t get yourself trapped next time..” Spencer chuckled, now looking over at the woman as she was sitting him up, finally using the key to free his wrists from their restraints. “Feel like you owe me now..” He began, the woman laughing as she placed the cuffs on her bedside table.
“Spencer Reid, are you really asking me for round two right now?” She asked, making the man give a cheeky smile.
“Maybe if you’re the one in the handcuffs this time.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid dialogue#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Exchanged clothes [S. R] Bolinus brandaris part. 2
Spencer Reid x fem!reader
word count: 4.6k
part 1
summary: a small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession
A/N: Okaay, some people showed interest in a sequel to this and I thought I'd do it, I hope you like it enough. Oh and we are still with baby Spencer, later I will write about the second and third seasons (and as I progress in the series, lol)
taglist: @the-ginger-draws @skievers @c-m-stuff
The days passed, the cases continued, and the level of trust in the friendship between you and Reid only grew. Working at The Behavioral Analysis Unit was complicated and exhausting in many ways, which sometimes made you wonder how he managed to put up with all that, because, although you weren’t an old woman, you did have two years more experience compared to him. It's also not like it was your fault that he was a genius and he went to work for the FBI at an extraordinary age. So every time something happened, you were there for him and he was there for you. The whole team really cared about the two of you (and JJ, the third youngest) while still trusting in your abilities to face challenges. And just like in a family, everyone could also notice the existing tension between you and the doctor, because although, at least on your part, the feelings had been there for a long time, they had become more obvious to the rest since of the trip to Miami.
"Good morning" you had greeted part of the team that day, a few weeks after the trip, more energetic than the others would have expected. Neither Hotch nor Gideon were around, for obvious reasons, so it was only when you passed Reid's desk that you stopped, running your hand affectionately through his hair “Hey, Doc.”
"Hello," he responded immediately. Spencer didn't like it when his hair got messy, but he could take it if it was you, just as he could take your constant hugs or the drawings you sometimes made on his hand when you were bored during meetings. Of everything that happened between you, little managed to bother him, almost as if the interactions he avoided with others were something natural with you around.
Although he had stopped wearing his scarf daily, he still wore it at least once a week as a reminder of how special it was to him, and fortunately that day was the chosen one.
“Do we have a case? Or do I just bury my nose in these reports?” you muttered to the others, but they denied "What of that do you say no to?"
"Today they will be documents" JJ spoke kindly.
"Why do I have so many?"
“Because I passed you some of mine,” Morgan sneered and you gasped, completely offended. You whispered something accusatory in his direction that made Spencer laugh from the next desk, and then he reached over to take just under half the folders.
"I will help you"
"Oh no, no, Reid. It's okay,” you said, your voice softening noticeably, as you placed your hands over his to try to stop him.
"It's nothing, I'll finish them in a jiffy"
"Why don't you ever offer to help me, huh?"
“You manage pretty well on your own,” Spencer teased at your friend, now making you laugh. You still had your hands on his under the excuse of collecting your reports and, perhaps unconsciously, both of you postponed the moment for another few seconds, looking into your eyes with a small smile until he finally managed to keep the material that he had stolen from your desk.
"Thank you," you said, so softly that only he could hear you.
Looking at your coworker had already become something of an obsession. You liked his gestures, how he looked away when he spoke, his nervous ramblings, and the straight hair that he apparently was letting grow, but what you liked the most were his hands. When he was explaining a profile, he always communicated a lot with his body language and honestly, the swaying of his hands, combined with the tranquility in his tone of voice, was very hypnotic to you, as if keeping the attention of others was something inescapable for him, although it was probably easier to keep your attention specifically. Right now, while everyone was minding their own business, you were watching sideways as he ran his middle finger over the printed lines. It made you nervous to see the delicacy with which he moved across the sheet of paper and inevitably your mind traveled to inappropriate corners related to that movement, which embarrassed you to the point of blushing. Thank heavens he was too focused to notice you, so you forced yourself to work on the few reports Reid had let you keep.
The days were very rare when no cases appeared, but you were grateful that they existed because sometimes it was necessary to take a breather. Seeing so many bodies, so much blood and so much inhumanity was something you never quite got used to, although having good teammates in your unit made it more bearable. So that night nothing stopped you from finishing right on time, with a little back pain from sitting all day, but also quite calm.
"I'll see you tomorrow, rest"
"Are you going to your apartment?" Spencer asked, rushing towards you with his coat in hand and the briefcase slung over his shoulder, and you nodded Can you wait for me to go together?”
You looked at him, more confused than you wanted, but you said yes. It's not that you were upset or that you didn't want company, but that you were curious as to why he might have offered to do it.
"Thanks again, for earlier," you said, once both of you were outside. You lived a few streets from the office and you could get there in less than 20 minutes by taking a subway station, which fortunately was the same one he took.
“Okay, they were too many for you. I mean, it's not that I think you can't do the job, you're very capable, it's just that I thought it was too much workload for just you and I… well, I could help you so I did it” with that Reid held up a hand to downplay the matter and smiled at you.
“Why have we never thought about walking to the subway together?”
"I don't know either," he said. You felt a gust of wind hit the both of you so you hugged yourself to try and get some warmth and even though Spencer wasn't the best at reading social cues he managed to figure out what you had and what he needed to do
“Here” he murmured, as he spread the coat and put it on your shoulders.
“Oh no, no, no, Reid. I'm fine"
"In fact, if you don't use it you can catch a cold and although there are very few cases in which there are complications that lead to death, the symptoms last about a week and you can infect several people during the first days, so you not only you would be taking care of yourself but also the rest of the team” he informed you. That made you smile, and you found that behind all his scientific mumbo jumbo, he was trying to take care of you.
"It's a little big on me," you laughed, reaching into the sleeves with some help from him.
“You look pretty” he blurted out from his lips, completely entranced by you “Well, the… the coat. It looks good” he tried to fix, but you laughed at the compliment that you definitely wouldn't pass up.
"Aren't you cold?"
“No, my shirt and vest help,” Spencer replied, showing you the long sleeve of her white shirt. “I also have my scarf, did you forget it?”
"The best choice in all your outfits" you joked, reaching out a hand to feel the soft fabric of the garment and looking at him, with that cute shy smile "What will you do when you get to your apartment?"
“Huh, probably get some sleep. I haven't been resting properly in the past few days."
"Nightmares again?" you sadly asked. Spencer had talked to you superficially about it a few days ago, although you thought that he had suffered from this disease for much longer than he wanted to admit. He didn't answer verbally, he just nodded his head and you thought he didn't want to delve into it “I think I'll spend a while in the bathtub and then I'll sleep. I'm exhausted"
“You close doors and windows before you sleep, right?”
"I do," you assured him.
“Do you also take your cell phone with you to call in case of emergencies?”
"Huh, yeah"
"Good. Take care of yourself” he insisted. Those didn't sound like random recommendations and that puzzled you a bit.
"I do, Reid," you replied softly. When you noticed that the concern in his features did not leave him, you thought it would be prudent to ask him why that was "Are you worried about something?"
"No, it's not that" he hastened to answer. You still had a few blocks to go to get to the subway and only a few passers-by walked the streets, besides you.
“Are they unsub then? Anything in particular that worries you?"
"It's nothing like that. It's just…” he gasped, still unsure to continue, “if I tell you, you'll think it's silly”
"Of course not. Tell me, what is it?" you asked. He was internally debating if he should tell you what he was thinking and he was convinced a little when he felt your hand on his arm, as if prompting him to speak.
“Yesterday I…” he started to say “I had a nightmare. I dreamed when I arrived at the office I found out that something bad had happened to you. And… I don't know, it felt very real and I couldn't get it out of my head” he admitted. You understood that perhaps it was the reason he had wanted to accompany you, as if he feared that someone might stalk you on the way.
“Spence” you murmured gently, as you pulled him a little in your direction to place one hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm “Don't worry, nothing's going to happen to me. My apartment complex has a good security system and I always carry my gun, if something happens on the street, I will know how to deal with it. They're just bad dreams, I have them sometimes too” you said to reassure him. You felt quite comfortable walking in that position and you continued a couple of steps holding him like this, looking for some negative sign from him, but it never came. With the closeness he managed to feel a little less fear, reminding himself that what tormented him were fantasies of his own mind, that if they were analyzed with a little more detail they were an unconscious reflection of how much he feared losing you.
"I told you it would be silly"
"It is not. It's quite sweet, actually,” you smiled, moving your thumb up and down as you smiled at him. In that position your face was at the height of the boy's shoulder and it was enough for him to turn his head to reach your forehead, so he wondered how much you would bother if he left you a kiss there. He wanted to, but held back.
“I just thought I should tell you. For you to be careful"
“Same to you, Reid. You have a rather peculiar ability to get into trouble” you exclaimed accusingly, because in a couple of cases the man had already managed to get on your nerves.
The position turned out to be cozier than you expected and you continued walking the rest of the streets towards the subway in silence. He concentrated on the feeling of your body so close to him and your hands gently holding him, while you lost yourself in thought wondering what you really felt about your coworker and what he felt for you. Spencer would look at you from time to time, analyzing your gestures and enjoying the sight of you wearing his clothes, something he didn't think would affect him the way he did.
“Did you know that railway suicides have a very small percentage in the country's suicide rate?” he told you, while the two of you looked at the subway tracks that you were waiting for. You had had to distance yourself to be able to pay the pennies for the ticket and you had decided to place your hands in the pockets of your borrowed coat, caressing the lining fabric with your fingers.
"I had no idea" you muttered. You were a little surprised that he always had an interesting fact about literally anywhere you were and you loved hearing him tell you “It must be horrible. And very sad"
"Even the government allocates certain resources to pay for psychological therapy for drivers who witness these suicides"
"Well, at least it comforts me to know that part of my taxes ends there," you joked bitterly and the train stopped just as you finished saying it. Reid let you first into the nearly empty car that would take you home, and along the way you continued to talk about less unfortunate things, like the dinner choices you were planning or the TV shows that were likely to be airing when you arrived.
Having those little quiet moments with him made you feel lucky and the laughs he managed to get filled your chest with joy, making you completely forget everything related to work. The voice in the wagon warned that your stop was next and an anticipated sadness invaded you.
“Be…”
"Be careful, I know" you smiled. Since you were already on your feet, so as not to miss your stop, you crouched down to give him a quick goodbye hug “See you tomorrow. Try to sleep and if you have nightmares you can call me, okay?" you muttered. He nodded from his place as he watched you leave towards the platform and leaned out the window to see your figure disappear into the distance.
Neither of you two realized that you had kept his coat until you got home.
As of that night, that coat returned to see the doctor's closet on very few occasions and the purple scarf went on to have joint custody. He had found out that if he loved anything more than wearing the clothes you gave him, it was seeing you wearing them, causing him to come up with totally pathetic excuses to accomplish that.
"It's a bit cold" "Purple matches your clothes" or simply "keep it, it looks better on you than on me"
It soon became a habit. During the cases, when you two were apart, it was a little comforting to have something of him with you and when he came home, he would enjoy breathing in the smell of your perfume impregnated on the fabric.
After a few weeks you realized that, without a doubt, you were so in love with him. And when he realized the same thing, he was completely terrified.
“Reid” you greeted him one morning, catching up with him as he poured himself a coffee and analyzed a piece of bread that had surely been sitting there since the day before. Hugs when seeing him had also become a habit, quite nice from the man’s point of view "I have something for you"
"Again?"
"Oh yeah," you smiled. Lately you had been filling him with small gifts and most of them quite rare, but which he kept suspiciously in his desk drawer. And it's not that he didn't appreciate it, but that he was beginning to feel guilty for receiving so many and not having given you any yet. "Give me your keys," you asked and he obeyed without even questioning you. Once you had them in your hand, you took a strip of colored beads from your pocket that you added as a key ring, while he looked at you with some confusion.
"What's that?"
“My friend asked me to babysit her daughter this weekend and we went crazy with crafts. So I thought I'd do this to you” you muttered. He took a closer look at the keyring and noted that you had included his favorite colors, purple and green, as well as a heart-shaped bead at the end. "I know it looks like a preschool kid's creation and if you're embarrassed to wear it you can throw it away”
"No, I like it. It's pretty,” he smiled, running his long fingers over the beads. Satisfied with the answer, you took out your own keys and proudly showed them to him.
"I have one just like it," you said happily. That was true, only yours was made of pink and blue, and the way you said it completely touched the man.
"You make me think that there is still goodness in this world, you know?" he exclaimed, so sincere and without thinking that he surprised you "I loved it, thank you very much"
"Now that I think about it, it's like one of those friendship bracelets you make at summer camp”
“I never went to a summer camp”
"I don't know why I'm not surprised" you laughed and would have continued the conversation if it hadn't been for Hotch's interruption.
“We've got a case. Conference room in 5”
Sometimes you forgot that the real reason you were there was the criminal profiles and not seeing Spencer Reid every day.
You just woke up one morning and knew you had to tell Spencer how you felt about him. As you said before, Spencer seemed to have a special magnet for trouble and proof of this were the cases in which he had to perform dangerous tasks that you knew no one else could do. When he had to get on that train with Ted Bryar you'd gone crazy and last week when he'd watched that cult boy on Massanutten Mountain threaten Reid with a gun you decided you'd had enough.
He had expressed concern for your well-being on multiple occasions, but what about his? Didn't you have the right to care about him just as much? every time he came back you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and whisper in his ear if he was okay, to maybe leave a kiss or two on his cheeks. But every time he came back you just cheered with the rest of the team and barely had contact with him beyond a squeeze on the shoulder and a sincere: I'm glad you're okay.
So you thought that if you wanted to have that kind of privilege over others the only alternative was to profess your love to him in the hope that he would feel the same way and you could work something out.
Spencer, for his own part, also had his epiphany and as much as he tried to avoid it he ended up asking Morgan for advice, who was the only person he thought would be suitable to talk about this kind of subject. Surprisingly, Derek behaved discreetly and really gave the doctor valuable elements to understand one of the few sciences in which science was almost obsolete: love.
Going back to recently acquired habits, walking together to the subway was another one of them. Sometimes this was interrupted because he or you stayed longer than the other, but except for those cases it was a regular activity.
So that night, when you two were walking to the station, your mind was immersed in remembering the speech with which you planned to tell your friend.
"You're very quiet today," Reid observed, taking you by surprise. In a few months he had already learned very well some traits that indicated that something was wrong with you.
“Sorry, I… I have a few things on my mind,” you apologized, but Spencer didn't know what to say because he also had his own things on his mind. He was desperately searching for a way to put into words what he felt, but he kept wondering, could that be explained? All attempts at reasoning became useless with you near him, maybe that's why he couldn't think of how to tell you "Reid, I don't think I've ever asked you, but have you ever had a partner?"
"Like… couple?" he asked, trying to make sure you were referring to the same thing he thought.
“I know it sounds weird, but it just… made me curious,” you exclaimed, shrugging and then crossing your arms in an attempt to comfort yourself. Reid fondly watched how your arms were on that purple scarf and felt a little motivated to speak.
“Huh, in that case, yes, something like that. I dated two people when I was in school, but it wasn't anything serious, just a few kisses” he explained to you and you failed to contain your laughter, maybe because of the way he had explained it. Spencer blushed to his ears and smiled reflexively at your smile. "Don't tease!"
"I don't" you defended yourself. Another person walked down the sidewalk and he reached out his arm to move you protectively in front of him, so when you came back to his side you took advantage of the distance between you, to the point where your shoulder brushed against his arm.
"And you?" he asked after a while of silence "Have you had many boyfriends?"
"The truth? not so many. With most of them I lost interest after the first date and the others left me when they found out I was in the academy. Apparently armed women aren't very attractive” you smiled. You had asked about his romantic history, and incidentally talked a bit about yours, only to open the topic and somehow feel that your confession would not be so out of place.
“There are studies that indicate that women take longer to fall in love than men, perhaps that is why you lost interest quickly. For you it takes about 6 or 8 dates to decide if you want something with a person, because you are more selective and better analyze personality traits in men. But they only care that the girls are… well, pretty” he murmured, with a smirk “On average it takes women 134 days to fall in love while men only 88”
“How long have you and I known each other?”
"It must be like... a year and a half now" he exclaimed, mentally doing the math "Why?" he continued legitimately confused. For the genius that he was, Reid was naive at times.
You looked down at him and for a second thought that even with those bags under his eyes and the stubble he hadn't shaved, Spencer was the most handsome man you'd ever met. Not receiving an answer, he looked at you and was surprised to see the sparkle in your eyes.
"Okay, can we stop here for a moment?" you asked. You knew you were probably going to chicken out if you didn't say it right then, even if that closed beauty salon you were standing in front of was an unromantic place. "I need to tell you something”
You had said it with determination, but once you were face to face, your mind went blank. You panicked: how were you going to tell him? What was the right thing to say? What reaction did you expect?
But Spencer, noticing the silence, decided to be the first to speak.
“Noradrenaline is a neurotransmitter that produces excitement and effusivity, increases heartbeat, blood pressure, causing sweating of hands and flushing. High dopamine levels generate a need to be with the person that releases it and is related to serotonin, which generates well-being, optimism, social closeness, and reduces discomfort and anger. Phenylethylamine makes everything more intense, makes us feel more motivated and optimistic and finally, oxytocin is the love hormone par excellence, it occurs when we have a bond of trust with people or when we feel a strong attraction. Sometimes it is also released when we embrace the reason for our affection” he had said that so hastily and waving his hands, that he could only show how nervous he was. He inhaled to catch his lost breath, then finally made eye contact with you, taking a moment before continuing, “What I'm trying to say is…you make me feel all of that. You alter my chemistry in ways I've never thought of and… and I… go all goofy and don't know what to say…”
"Spencer" you interrupted him "You mean you like me?" you asked gently, because you knew that when he started to wander sometimes you needed to bring him back down to earth. Reid looked at you tight-lipped and nodded slowly.
You were silent for a second, trying to process what he had just told you, and he got even more nervous than he was.
“But I think that after all this what I care to know is… if you feel the same way. Or in the worst case, if you think you might feel something like this”
“A total chemical mess for you?” you exclaimed amused. One of your hands went to his and you gently held it, taking a step closer to him. “I'm sorry, Reid. I feel it every time I look at you, that you hug me, every time I give you those silly gifts and see the smile on your face. Everything in you causes me that"
"Are you serious?" he asked, wanting to be completely sure what he was hearing. You laughed and wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug.
“Of course I do. Before you said all that I was racking my brain trying to find a way to tell you how I felt."
“Did you know that this is a phenomenon? There are those who call it the tuning fork effect, which is when two people connect the same idea at the same time, almost as if they had been thinking at the same frequency.”
You chuckled and buried your head in his neck, letting go of his hand so you could hug him properly. He wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his head in your hair, willing to say nothing more for fear of ruining the moment. All the fears you had had were being buried with that contact, because now you had the certainty that what you felt was mutual.
You stayed like that for what felt like hours, just listening to the gentle beating of his heart and enjoying the sense of security that being in the man's arms made you feel.
"I really like you" you broke the silence, with a whisper, making him smile.
"I think the most logical step from here would be to ask you out on a date, no?" he muttered. You pulled away enough to look at him, but still leaving your arms around his shoulders.
“I don't want to have to wait. Let's go for a burger"
"Don't you prefer somewhere more... formal?"
"Leave formal places for proposals, handsome," you said in a playful voice, caressing his cheeks with your extended palm and he made a mental note that this Italian restaurant he was thinking of inviting you to would be the ideal place to ask you to take the next step, when the time was right.
“I still have to take you on at least 6 dates, to be sure”
"Fuck the statistics, I don't need that burger to know I'm in love with you," you said and he grinned from ear to ear.
“I know a place with an excellent health label and organic food, it is a few streets from here”
"I follow you" you answered cheerfully "On one condition"
"Which?"
"Let me hold your hand," you asked softly and Reid wasted no time in fulfilling your wish, leading you to the restaurant that way.
And at the end of the night, when you stole a kiss from him, he couldn't have felt luckier.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#jason gideon#JJ#penelope garcía
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻:
criminal minds: aaron hotchner, spencer reid, derek morgan, emily prentiss, luke alvez
stranger things: eddie munson, steve harrington, robin buckley, nancy wheeler
tasm: peter parker (andrew garfield’s peter only)
bridgerton: benedict, anthony, colin, kate
𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗱
some bunny special- dad!spencer x fem!reader
please don’t have somebody waiting on you- s1!spencer x bau!reader
lovely to sit between comfort and chaos, part 1- spencer reid x fem!reader
part 2
in the mirror of your eyes, my love, my life- young dad!spencer reid x bau!mom!reader
blurbs found under the tag- belle’s blurbs s.r.
𝗮𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗻𝗲𝗿
we can’t be friends (wait for your love)
part 2
part 3 coming soon!
blurbs found under the tag- belle’s blurbs a.h.
𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘁 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗼𝗻
good old fashioned lover boy- benedict bridgerton x fem!reader
𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻
blurbs found under the tag- belle’s blurbs s.h.
𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻
the boy is mine- eddie munson x fem!reader
#masterlist#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfic#mgg#thomas gibson#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fan fiction#aaron x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner criminal minds#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotch#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fanfic
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
✹ ▬ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒, 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒
rating: Explicit
pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader
summary: it’s been half a year since you’ve last seen Arthur, and as you finish the last empty page of the journal he gifted you, a lone rider shows up down in the valley on a familiar, silver-dappled mare.
warnings: high honor Arthur, reader is an artist herself, and very lonely, touch-starved, porn with feelings (and minimal plot), i’m not gonna lie 5k of this is just pure smut, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, love confessions, Arthur being a sweetheart, a little angst and emotional hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending
word count: 8457
a/n: i finally finished that wip i started cooking up during uni crunch time, but i’m proud to announce that i finished my master’s in graphic design and i’m finally fucking free of uni. it was a very depressive part of my life, i got completely burnt out in mind and soul too, so writing and drawing was more like a burden than something i enjoy. but now, now i’m so full of new passions, especially towards writing that i couldn’t wait to finish up this piece. i also want to thank everyone who came by to read my stuff even though i haven’t posted anything since like last october or something, love you all! (also special thanks to @wintersongstress bc you kept me going whenever you said a few kind words) <3
MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN
In the spring Big Valley blooms.
Fireweed and balsamroot and irises, blue and purple and the prettiest shades of yellow and pink, dotting the landscape like careful brushstrokes of a painter’s handiwork. The earth is alive here, black and red from the fallen fir and pine needles, with mushrooms and bugs hiding under the rotting, fallen logs.
It’s a beautiful morning—pink from the rising mist and the early sunlight.
You sit on the porch of your small cabin, its wood creaking as a gentle breeze sweeps over the surrounding forest. Songbirds confess their love above, chirping a sweet melody that sings to your heart just the same. You finish your coffee and place the worn tin cup on the windowsill behind you, leaning back in your chair to pick up your journal.
It’s almost full now; barely a few empty yellowed paper is left. You turn another page, sketch the shape of an eagle with the last chunk of your pencil, so small you can barely hold it right. It’s been many months since Arthur gifted it to you.
It’s been months you’ve seen him the last time too.
Your heart aches a little when the orioles begin another love-song in your small garden. A sweet smell reaches you, a late-blooming wild cherry tree, its honey lulling in bees and birds and flies and the first butterflies of the year. You draw them too, detail their wings and hair and the tiny spikes covering their legs. With shaky, unladylike handwriting you write their names there too.
WESTERN TIGER SWALLOWTAIL
MONARCH
WILD DOVE
As you write the last word, your hand lingers over the drawing, then on the freshly pressed forget-me-not on the other page, it’s blue seeped into the paper around it like a watered up, inky halo.
Little dove. Arthur's name for you.
Christ, you miss him.
Worry clawed under your ribs for so long you no longer feel the ache. You know what kinda life he lives, what he does in the name of survival, the largest devil. You still like him. You still feel anxious every time you go into the town post office and realize that there’s no letter nor telegram from him. He’s been… kind to you. Real kind, even though no one else was.
You draw in a slow breath and flip the pages back right to the first one. It’s crumpled a little from all the time you’ve returned to it before. A simple sketch faces you, the lines and shading so different from your own, patches of light and shadows adding together a face that stares at you every time you look in a mirror. All the imperfections, all the ugliness and beauty your likeness wears, all the messy hair and sparkling eyes he’s grown to know.
Little dove, says a handwritten line under the portrait. Draw me all the other beauties of this land.
You did. Christ, you did it all and he’s still away.
You sigh, fold the journal and wipe your hand in your skirt. It’s still muddy from all the work you’ve done in the garden after you've awoken, so you don’t mind a bit of graphite there too.
The journal returns to its palace on the windowsill, beside the coffee cup and a pack of cigarettes.
Big Valley turns into shades of gold as the sun rises above the treeline, illuminating the wet dirt roads that twist below like giant snakes. You take a deep breath and rise to meet the day. There's a prickling warmth on the line of your spine, a trail of goosebumps that make your breaths come out shaky. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's fate.
You stop, halfway turned to the door already, and a rider appears on the winding paths in the distance.
You stand and you watch, frozen in place as the familiar silver-dappled mare canters closer and closer, its rider swaying in her saddle, one hand grasping the reins and the other dangling lazily beside his body. Black hat, a worn leather coat, sky blue shirt and shining spurs. You don’t have to see his eyes to recognize the sun on horseback.
After a few moments he halts the mare before your cabin, her breath puffing against his hand as he pets her forehead after swinging himself down from the saddle. “Good girl.”
You grow weak in the knees, lip trembling as you suck in a hasty breath. Do all wishes come to fruition if one draws it enough times? Do paper, words and shaky lines have this much power?
He walks up the first two steps of your porch, taking off his hat to reveal golden brown locks, long and messy now, wet with sweat and yesterday's rain still dripping from the trees.
There’s a moment of silence when your eyes meet.
A moment of truth when he says your name.
You open your mouth, then close it. There’s so much you want to say, so much you feel, yet the only sentence that leaves your lips is, “You've come just in time for breakfast.”
*
The silence is awkward at first when you pour him the remaining lukewarm coffee, and even more when you prepare breakfast and lay out everything on your small dining table. Your bed is unmade, there’s mud stuck on the doormat, your laundry stacked in a high pile in the corner and all the dried herbs from last autumn hang low from the ceiling of the single room cabin.
Your home is as much a mess as you are, but it’s well lived-in, like a body. A shell housing a soul.
Arthur doesn’t mind. Never did.
“Is this the wrong time?” he asks when you cut fresh onion leaves on a plate, still dewy from the morning mist that rolled over the valley. The knife stops in your hand. You can hear him breathing, calm, even exhales, yet it feels like he’s not even real.
“No,” you press out, uncertain in your own thoughts, and you keep cutting the leaves until they’re nothing more than a fleck of green pulp on the white porcelain. You don't even realize when he stops you. You just feel the unusual warmth, radiating from around the back of your palm, through your whole arm, until something wild and ancient flickers alive in your ribcage.
“Are ya alright?” The calloused hand retreats and the knife falls from between your fingers.
“I—” you swallow, throat suddenly dry and choked with tears at the same time, “half a year is a long time.”
He closes his eyes and hangs his head. ‘Course it is. You thought he was dead. You thought he got taken to prison and they hanged him like a dog.
The food remains untouched as he swipes a hand over his jaw and takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. You watch him, still cautious, taking a mental note of every little change. A small scar freshly healed on his cheek. His beard longer, a bit messy. His eyes oh so tired, like he hasn't slept in days.
“You want me to go? I get it if ya have a husband now an’ I don’t want to cause tr—”
“No!” you almost shout, panicked, and his gaze searches your face. Why do you behave so goddamn strange? You wanted him here for months! You wanted him, wanted— “Jesus, there’s no husband, okay?”
The corner of his lips curl upwards a little at that. Crow's feet crinkle in the corners of his eyes. Those tiny laughing-lines around his nose move.
“I guess I just… I’ve been alone for a long time,” you sigh and force down a bite of cheese-topped bread. Your stomach protests loudly, it wants to escape the hunger or the nerves, you can’t decide yet.
Arthur takes that as a sign to take a bite from his food too, and you know he's hungry. As you watch you realize how tired he is. How worn—like a saddle neglected in care and used until the leather cracked, then split. He eats up the whole slice of bread before you manage to take your second bite.
The awkward quiet persists, gets stronger even, but there's so much to say and so little courage you can muster.
He’s the one who finally runs a bloody knife through the silence.
“Did ya draw for me?”
There’s a distant longing in his voice that’s almost crystal clear. You nod, the nerves tangled in your belly easing. He remembers, he knows. He wants to see.
You bring in the small book from the porch while he finishes his food, and he’s already lighting a cigarette when you arrive and lay the leather-bound pages in front of him. He smiles at how worn it looks, how much fingerprint-stained page edges are littered throughout the journal. It’s well-loved, and well lived-in too.
You silently watch as he flips through a few pages, tracing a finger over bucks and birds and butterflies, over the scratchy sketch lines you immortalized nature with. The Grizzlies covered in snow. Clovers and mushrooms. Your home with opened windows and flowers hanging in pots from the roof of the porch.
“I’m sorry I missed all this,” he says softly, looking up at you like you’re the sun and the moon and the whole world. So fond, so tender it makes you ache for something that never can be yours. “I’m sure this place is pretty in the winter.”
You nod. You don’t tell him about almost freezing to death when the storms rolled in from the mountains in the spring. You don’t tell him about the roaming gangs either, about the bastards camped at the Hanging Dog ranch or the man who got eaten by a bear in his own home. This is a dream world. A valley that can be as easily a good dream as it can be a nightmare. You want it to be a good dream for him. An escape. You know what life he lives. What he runs from.
“It’s even prettier now,” you finally answer, watching him reading your messy handwriting beside the drawings. Forget-me-not. White clover. Blue iris. “Spring came very late, everything is still blooming.” You bite into your lip and after a few seconds you ask, “wanna see?”
Arthur looks up at you and something flickers in his eyes. Maybe hope. He nods, puts out his cigarette, dusts off his hat and puts it back on his messy hair.
“Only if you let me draw ya again.”
*
Everything around you buzzes and dances and it’s full of life, the valley, the word ‘spring’ written by the hand of Mother Earth in flowing rivers of wildflowers and overgrown grass. Orioles chirp not far away, singing another lulling love-song, matching the rhythm a creek makes above, crystal clear meltwater digging its course from stone and black earth towards south.
Arthur stands a bit farther away from you, with his journal and a piece of charcoal in hand, putting the scenery to paper in blacks and greys and negative spaces. Or you think he’s drawing the Grizzlies and forests and farms littered down in the valley like mushrooms popping from the ground after a lukewarm summer rain.
But instead, he draws you.
The crown of flowers sitting atop your head—the girls at camp taught him how to make one, he said, smiling. The arch of your lips. The shadow of your lashes. The tangles in your hair, the dirt on your skirt, the sun glinting in your eyes.
When he’s done he walks back to you, flops down into the grass beside you to show you his work. The scenery really is just the background. Hasty, faint lines of mountain-spines and plants that curl towards the sun. But you, you’re detailed like an oil painting, from the wrinkles in your dress to the imperfections of your face.
“You wanted to draw the land, ain't ya?” you ask him, knowing, smiling at him as he slips his charcoal into the cord on his hat. He gives you a lopsided smirk, then wipes his hands on the rough fabric of his jeans.
“I just found something so much more pretty,” he looks into your eyes when he says that and it burns like how maybe the sun’s surface would burn. You know there’s a blush rising through your neck, up to your cheeks, and you hope he thinks it’s from the warmth of the day. But he would be a fool to believe that.
“Are ya tryin’ to flirt with me?” you feel like a child. A giddy girl getting her first carved wood pony to play with. You never believed him when he told you you were beautiful. You couldn’t. Yet here, now, in the all-revealing sunlight he seems like his words are genuine. Much more pretty.
He leans back on his hands, the sun caressing his face when he finally takes off his hat. His laughing-lines crinkle.
"Do ya remember last year, when you gave me a kiss?"
If you haven't been burning up, you certainly are now. Something wild and primal stirs in your belly, something that’s very close to want and need. Of course you remember. Of course you can’t forget the way you leaned in and gave him a little peck on the lips, a bare press just because his plump lips looked so goddamn kissable and because you were so goddamn drunk. It doesn’t mean you didn’t want to do it sober. You just didn’t have the courage. But with amber whiskey in your stomach and his hand on your knee you couldn't be stopped. It was the day he left. The last day you’ve seen him alive until now.
You nod and look away. You don’t want to think about a dark future when Arthur wants to talk about kissing you. Jesus Christ.
“I wanted to draw your lips ever since then. Sometimes I did when I dreamt about you. Always smiling, always with flowers in your hair. But I never got it right.”
“I never thought you was a romantic, Mr. Morgan,” you’re truly blushing now, breaking the eye-contact, and picking at your nails instead because hearing this is a lot. The man you were waiting for months, the man you thought you loved and was dead, now sits here beside you, making poetry bubble in your chest. An oriole sings there too, trapped by ribs and muscle, red like the rising sun.
“I— I’m never good with words,” he shrugs, picking on a blade of grass between his fingers. “Ya know I never was.”
You smile at him, still flushed.
“But I thought about the time we spent together in the past and I… I realized I was happy with ya.”
What is this if not a confession?
You reach for him. Slowly, like one would comfort a spooked horse, sliding your palm over his scarred knuckles until the grass he was twirling falls to the ground. He watches your hands on each other, yours so small and mostly soft compared to his large, battle-worn fingers.
"I was happy with ya too," you whisper, so damn afraid yet you know he said it first, it must mean something—
He looks at you, looks right through you, gazes into the deepest depths of your soul where you already carved a space for him months ago. He looks at you and he knows this is not some sick joke, that your mutual attraction was not some mirage you chased for so long.
He leans in and the world falls dead quiet. His breathing, shaky and unsure and deep, the only sound you can concentrate on as he nudges your nose with his own. Right where you left off half a year ago. Right where you imagined this in every dream.
You nuzzle him, brush your lips against the corner of his mouth, his beard prickling and coarse, but his parting lips are soft, gently cupping your own between them, slow and careful and so goddamn sweet. He moves, hands reaching for you as you try to deepen this embrace, reciprocating the kiss, turning your body towards his. His fingers land in your hair, getting caught on the tangles like trouts on a net, and he cups your cheek with his other hand, so warm, it's like the sun is cradled in his palm.
Maybe you're his sun. Maybe he's yours.
The kiss turns needy after a while, tongues dart out and teeth nip gently on plump, rosy lips. He keeps you close, closer, until your noses are squished together and his hair falls into your eyes and you can feel your lashes tickling his skin. He kisses you like no one ever did. He kisses you like it means something.
Need awakens inside you with the force of a hundred galloping horses as his hands find your waist, the line of your spine, the collar of your dress, the outwards curve of one breast. They doesn't move further. It doesn't mean you don't want them to.
Arthur pants against your mouth as you move away, the taste of tobacco and wild cherries still intense on your tongue.
"Will ya draw me one more time?" you ask quietly, against the side of his face, your words tangling into the wild mess of his beard.
"How?" you look him in the eye and he already knows, yet you make a show of it as you pull on your dress and slowly bare yourself to him. There's not a soul for miles, no one to disturb this bubble of peace and strawberry champagne haze you made for yourselves so you're not ashamed. And when you discover that wild flame burning in his eyes—
Your body becomes alive with a meadow consumed by fire, overgrowing and rotting and oozing honey from every pretty flower. You shed your chemise. The shoes. Bloomers come last, already stained with grass and bright yellow pollen.
You sit nude in front of him, a feast for his hungry eyes, yet he doesn't stare at you for long. He wants to commit this to paper. He wants to see this every day from now on—the curve of your breasts, the wide of your hips, the hair nestled between your legs, the smile you can't keep off of your lips.
"For the road," you chuckle with a wink, watching how he scribbles away in his journal. "For lonely nights."
"I could put this up in a gallery and take ya to Paris," he answers with a piece of charcoal in his mouth, smudging the powder on the paper. "Wanna see the world little dove?"
You know it's just gentle banter, but your heart aches the same. You both know it would be impossible. Him leaving this country, his family—a woman is not enough for that.
"I think I have everythin' I wanna see right in front of me," you smirk, then move, not caring about the drawing anymore, and he doesn't care either, gripping your bare thighs as you rise to settle in his lap.
It's spring and you're a flower, and you bloom too, unfolding your body like petals, legs and arms slowly sliding away to reveal soft flesh. There's no shame when Arthur looks up at you like you're the goddamn sun and the stars and the wind caressing his face. Maybe you are when you reach down and slide a thumb over his brow, the downwards arch of his eyelid when he closes his eyes. Two gorgeous pools of blue-green look up at you when your finger slides lower, over his lips, to dig in and make them part, wet tongue darting out around a small kiss.
You watch him. His eyes, his mouth.
His long, golden lashes lower, a dark kind of fire ignited in his gaze, doin’ the only sin he does not regret committing— wanting you.
He grabs onto your side, the flesh on your hip and stomach, leaves heat in his wake there, large palm-shaped sunspots that ooze light into your bloodstream. Christ, you want him to touch you more. To make you burn, to make you into a flame that needs his tending.
"You're so damn pretty, little dove" he murmurs in that low voice, watching how a single flower of forget-me-not falls from your hair and lands on the top of your breast, trapped in a bead of sweat like a fly in amber honey.
The back of his head hits the ground, like it's a pillow woven from freshly sprouted grass and wild flowers and wet earth, and he moves you in his lap, lower, where you can feel him, hard and oh so ready but still waiting for your move.
The spark is ignited. Your sun burns inside your ribcage for this man, a heart shaped from light, and you reach between the two of you to get him rid of his pants. Arthur doesn't move, but he lets you pull up his shirt, over a strong stomach and golden brown hair, over old scars that faded into silvery lines, to a ribcage housing a kind heart.
"Will ya have me, Arthur?" you lean close to him, your bellies touching, your hand still restless at the buckle of his gun-belt, and he sighs into your hair, hips twitching at your eager request as he leans in to lay a gentle kiss on your temple, then the arch of your eyebrow.
"'Course, sweetheart," he reaches up, cradles your nape as he curls his other arm around your waist, turning you until the soft earth cradles you like another lover.
Your bare legs fall open as he settles, with his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing the spot where the broken grass stained it green. You should be shy. Ashamed. Vulnerable. You should clench your thighs tight, feel the need to be modest, yet your body betrays you even further when Arthur places his other hand on your side, making space for himself in the cradle of your hips.
His shirt is gone.
You watch him for a few eternal seconds, the way his eyelashes cast starlike shadows over his ruddy cheeks as he gets an eyeful of your flushed cunt.
"Gonna have to work ya a little," he says, voice low and husky, thumbs drawing circles into your flesh, as if he's soothing a spooked creature.
There's not enough time to get your fill of his body; the hair-dusted muscles of his chest and arms, the stubble-peppered neck that leads into a strong jawline, the strand of honey brown hair that carefully curls around his ear. You subconsciously nod instead, rapidly, sliding your hand over his own, tugging on his worn knuckles until he's blanketing you with his body.
Arthur smiles into your hair for a second when his free hand trails up your side, up through the valley of your breasts and the bend of your neck until he can cradle your head, his fingers caressing, thumb parting your lips so when he arrives with his own you're already panting a shivering exhale into his mouth. Yes, kiss me. Conquer my lips. Conquer this monster that is my body.
He kisses you, softly at first, cupping your upper lip between his, then the bottom one, and then, just then he lets a hot breath mingle with your own before his tongue finds its way around yours. He kisses you with all the need a starving man can feel, suckling on your lips until they are flushed, swollen, his worn thumb sliding over them once more, between gentling pecks of affection and softly opening eyes. He's mesmerized by the sight of you like this, oh so close, oh so pretty in the sunlight.
You get bold under his stare, curling your fingers into the hair on his nape, into the coarse tangles of his beard before you give him the same treatment he gave you, mapping the plush, hot rise of his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the tip of it, then leans in to lay gentle presses on your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth. You want to chase him, coax him into another kiss, but he murmurs something against your skin instead, hefting your leg higher at his side, and your belly aches with the burning sun that grows inside it, pressed flush to his.
"Lemme show ya somethin'," he almost whispers, and he descends downwards, draws a curling vine of blooming ivy in the shape of kisses, at the hollow of your throat, at the top of one breast, then the other. He takes your nipples between the same lips you've kissed mere moments ago, still wet, and he almost makes a show of it when a surprised moan slips out from your chest.
Arthur commits the shape of you into his memory, counting each rib, each valley and hill your body has, the soft of your stomach when he arrives there, a star-circle of hot lip-presses, and then lower, at the edges of a gentle trail of wiry hair that leads between your wide-open legs, and then just shy of your cunt, a place so sensitive the kiss wrecks your whole body with a shiver.
He looks up at you for a second, lifting your legs over two strong shoulders, soothing you again with circling caresses on your thigh, even though his eyes are ravenous, chest heaving as he sucks in panting breaths . The want inside you blooms alive. If you could be a forest, you would burn gladly under his hands.
The idea is no stranger to you, you've read your fair share of off-shelved romance novels, but experiencing such an act transcends every sweet worded description you've ever seen when Arthur makes his intention clear with a look full of promises.
Not letting you suffer longer, he leans in and softly nuzzles his way between the folds of your cunt; kisses you there.
Your body grows weak, open, and you helplessly grab into the earth beside you, clawing up dirt and fresh grass, sinking your fingers deep, like you could plant your roots here. A noise escapes you, surprised and breathless, and Arthur mutters encouragement against your mound, " beautiful… ", then strokes his tongue over a spot where nerves meet in a most sensitive bundle.
He sucks and licks there, kissing your flesh like he had been kissing your mouth, with his eyes almost closed, cheeks flushed and beard scraping your skin. It tickles, it scratches, it makes a flock of burning butterflies flick alive inside your belly, it makes want trickle from your cunt when he arrives there. You feel like you're already unraveling, the foreign pleasure spreading through your body like fungi webbing a forest floor, and at every spot his skin touches you, you bloom.
Like a meadow. Like a sun.
He hums encouragement, holds your thighs firmer, pushes his tongue against you harder. You try to squirm, hands scrambling, his mouth curling into a smile at your folds, and you moan, freely, maybe the first time in your whole life, just for him.
He pleasures you so effortlessly, so gladly, and in all the tenderness he offers you feel like you could drown. His mouth is relentless. His kisses even more are. You can't help but wretch open your eyes to look down and find him buried there, in the cradle of your hips, face flushed red and eyes sparkling so pretty when they meet your own. You don't have control over your body anymore.
You blindly reach for his hair, your head thumping back against the earth, spine arching, shoulders rolling into the dirt. "That's it," he murmurs between suckling kisses, and you grind your cunt up, up into his mouth because Christ, you're almost there.
Your eyes flicker open, like candle flames, neck curved back, and you can see the Grizzlies like this, snow-capped, glinting like crystals, between blades of green and sky blue iris flowers. Your whole world turns upside-down.
It's too good—his lips, his tongue, his hot breath fanning against your weeping opening, yet you can't get there, not really, not before Arthur lifts away and the world tries to right itself but turns out all wrong. He is panting, hair messy from all the torture your fingers did on his strands, glinting golden in the sun.
Your thighs slip away, off his shoulders as he returns to you, hastily wiping his face in the back of his hand, lips already seeking your own, soothing you. He tastes tangy, more salt than sweet, like you, and the forest of emotions threatens to split your ribcage open when he presses his mouth to your temple.
"What's wrong?" you ask quietly, whisper the question into his opened lips between two tender kisses, and he answers with a breathless "nothin'."
"Have to open ya up," his fingers squeeze you, harder on your side, and he brings his free hand up to his lips, licking his fingers. That same sinful hand returns to your belly, then lower, cupping your whole cunt in his palm before you feel it, the thick finger teasing at your opening, spreading the wetness, and then gently, slowly slipping inside without any resistance.
Arthur nudges your nose with his own when your eyes flutter closed, lashes tickling his cheek, and he kisses you again, moving his finger inside you, a slow, purposeful stroke.
"Look at me, little dove," he whisper-commands, curling that finger in, making you gasp into his mouth. "Look at me. Yeah, that's it." He almost smiles when your eyes meet his own, and your belly aches as he pulls out his finger and adds a second. They glide in so easy, you can feel his palm growing sticky against your cunt. You want to be embarrassed, but he just stifles a groan against your neck when your pussy squelches, your pleasure steadily rising with the clever thrusting of his fingers.
Shit, if his fingers feel like this inside you, you can't even imagine how his cock will.
He builds you up steadily, like a castle, like a temple, like a stairway right to the sun, and he doesn't give you a warning when he crams in another finger, three now, stretching you truly and good, shushing you with his lips, kissing you breathless until your legs yield and shake.
"That's it," he murmurs, kisses you thoroughly, panting against your lips as your cunt squeezes tight around his fingers. "That's good."
His name escapes your throat, a plea, and you're barely hanging on by a thread now. Arthur is tender in his movements, but not too gentle, making space for himself inside you, making your poor heart flicker and trash under your ribcage like a trapped bird. He kisses you again, with opened lips, tongue clashing with yours, your teeth catching on the side of his face, a right mess, and his fingers slow, then gingerly slide out to lay drenched in your slick on the burning skin of your thigh.
You whine at the loss. Truly, desperately. Such an unladylike sound, yet it rings sweet against Arthur's neck.
You feel so empty.
"Shh," he quiets you, then gently grabs your hand, caressing a thumb over your knuckles, and guides it down, over the still buttoned waist of his pants, where his achingly hard cock strains against the fabric. You gasp a surprised "oh" between his lips, but follow his hand eagerly, helping him with the buttons. "Touch me, darlin'."
You do. Jesus, you do.
You worm your hand between the fabric and his feverish skin, mapping out the shape of him with curious touches. Even though you're inexperienced, Arthur's body teaches you what feels good for him without a guiding word. You grasp him, gently at first, and then firmer, and stroke your hand over his cock until your palm curls around the flushed head of him, finding a bead of wetness there. His stomach jumps, muscles tensing against you, his breath hitching sweetly beside your ear when he kisses you there too.
Did he feel a similar curious excitement like you do now, when he stuffed you full of his fingers?
"You're a natural, sweetheart," he smiles at you, cheeks blooming a pretty red, and you feel his hand returning between your legs, thick fingers pushing inside you again. "Ya think you can take me?"
You can't answer, not at first, too distracted by the stretch, by the burning want that blooms in your belly, by the idea of taking Arthur. You kiss him instead, stroke him faster until he has to break away from you to collect himself.
"Fuck me," you whisper to him, sweet as wild strawberries, your lips brushing the side of his face and he smiles, truly, teeth and crow's feet and wrinkles and all, and Christ, you want him so much it almost hurts.
"Now, you really want me to fuck ya?"
You don't know if he wants to tease, or he's truly concerned about your decision, but you give him a very pointed look, releasing his cock and reaching for his hand that is still pleasuring you, slowly pulling it away until you're empty once more.
"Arthur," you kiss him again, almost pleading and he can't deny you longer. He worries at your bottom lip for a second, then presses his mouth to your chin.
"Spread 'em pretty thighs for me then," he murmurs as he comes closer, bracketing the backs of your thighs with his own, and then hefting your legs around his hips. You open yourself willingly, freely, feeling the heat of him oh so close, and you help him a little, push on his jeans until his cock is free, thick and heavy and hard against the inside of your thigh.
It's the first time you see it. It's the first time your cunt clenches on nothing and it makes you desperate.
"If I hurt ya, say so and I'll stop, alright?" he says as he gives you one last kiss before leaning back and taking a hold of his cock. Christ, you want to watch. To know how he will fit inside you, but the strong bulk of his body blocks your view, sea-colored eyes going half-lidded as he watches your every reaction, sliding against your folds once, twice, and for the third time his fat cock catches on your slick opening.
You gasp and pull him into a kiss with renewed hunger, and it's perfect to muffle your sounds as he slowly, carefully pushes into you.
He has maybe an inch or two inside, but you're already feeling like you could burst, like you could rip apart at the seams and bloom into a bed of wildflowers oozing honey over black earth.
It's—
It's everything.
You can feel his heartbeat race against your breast, and you can feel it inside you, lighting you up, making the unfamiliar stretch good, making it divine. You pant into his mouth, let him nuzzle your cheek as he murmurs praise, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw and caress your lips.
"That's it, good girl," he whispers, as breathless as you, and you feel him move, deeper, making way for himself when there's barely any. It hurts and it doesn't. Aches like a good day of riding in the sun. Warm. Stretched. A funny sway in your head when it's over. A pleasure-pain so perfect you never want him to stop. "Ya fit me like you was made for me."
"Christ," you hiss, hands curling into his neck and shoulder, digging into the meat of them, almost drawing blood as Arthur's hips meet yours, his hot length fully settling inside you. "Arthur, Jesus I—,"
"Shhh," he quiets you softly, one hand cupping the back of your palm on his shoulder, massaging it until your fingers yield, no longer digging into his flesh, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. A distraction. A gesture so sweet your body warms even more.
"S-sorry," you manage to say, out of breath and tingling all over. He's so deep inside you you can feel it. All the space he fills, all the ways pressure makes you twitchy and sensitive and ready to burst. He kisses your fingertips next, the inside of your wrist, all the while his other hand smooths over your trembling thigh.
"Watchu sayin' sorry for?" his question is a mere whisper against you, a soothing rumble at the side of your face. He waits for you to settle, to let you calm like a rapid summer storm, keeps himself still until the way he holds you open becomes from an unfamiliar intrusion into a shivering spark of something. Can pleasure feel like this too? Can the joy of joining coat your bodies like crushed candy that melts in the sun?
You can't focus on his question, not until he caresses your brow with a finger, and even then you don't know the answer. You just close your eyes and tremble, too lost in the closeness of him, too distracted by the spark of pleasure bubbling hotly inside your belly.
"Tell me when I should move," he brushes your hair back, wipes the sweat that started beading at your temple. "Or tell me to stop."
"N-no. Don't stop, please Arthur. Jus'... just be slow," you murmur against him, your words slurred into his beard, lips brushing a scar there.
He nods then, reassures you with a small kiss that says "I've got you, don't worry," and it's enough for you. Enough to brace for the inevitable outwards pull.
You have to dig your fingers into his arm, have to cling to him for dear life, because even though his movement is careful, you still want to rip apart from the seams, just from his cock gently grinding into your cunt.
You groan, dear Christ, and you clench on him, the pleasure-pain so intense it rushes you towards the edge with the speed of lightning striking a lonely tree out in the prairie.
"Yes, sweetheart, open up for me," he praises you, licking the same fingers he stuffed inside you earlier and returning them between your legs, feeling where he holds you open, and then drawing a gentle circle on your clit, another sharp sparkle of pleasure, and you whine. "Can you come like this?"
You can't answer with words, your throat locks up and tears well in the corners of your eyes as you nod eagerly, racing towards an edge that ends in pure free fall. So he keeps his slow torture sweet, a purposeful grind of his hips and knowing touches with his fingers and you pant, into his neck and then into the soft grass, your head lolling to the side, and even though you're outside, up in the mountains, there's barely enough air to fill your lungs. The only thing you breathe is Arthur. He trickles into your every vein, every muscle and fat and bone, blankets you in honey and dew and the warmth of the sun.
"Look at ya, little darlin'," he says, fond, as he reaches for your face to give your flaming cheek a gentle caress. Your back arches as he pushes in again, his movement turning into longer, truer thrusts. "Look how good you take me."
"Shit, Arthur I—"
"Gonna take care of ya," he murmurs and leans back, settling on his haunches with his cock still rooted deep and your thighs wide open around his hips.
He looks down at your body, at all the imperfections you hate, at all the unique curves of your form, at all the unevenly smooth skin and marks and scars. Then, at your face that is softened by a deep frown of pleasure.
Your eyes meet.
You can see the want flickering in his eyes like blue flames in a marsh, alive and hot, and maybe your own burns the same, because he can't control a hard thrust then. You almost yelp, but your joining is slick now, you can feel wetness collect on your cunt every time he pulls out, so the pain is nonexistent.
"That—" you pant, sucking in a hasty breath, "that felt so good."
"Christ, darlin," he exhales on a smile, and digs the meat of his fingers into the bend of your knee and the puffy flesh of your cunt and you almost scream, the good kind of scream, as he thrusts in again, hard and deep. "You're so goddamn beautiful."
It's your turn to tense up, to clench on him, hot and full and barely hanging on by a thread. He makes you run down the hill of pleasure until you trip, until you're falling, until the pressure becomes too much and not enough all at once. Like graphite grinded into dust and swept by the wind, that's how you float too, towards his calloused hands and sun-worn cheeks and you're a parchment laid out flat, your body the same, bare and vulnerable until his fingerprints stain you, in forms of lilac bruises on your hips, in never ending paths of grey sunlight.
He lets go of your leg, puts a palm on the soft of your belly, just above your cunt, and he feels himself there, moving, filling you so full, so good, so whole, until there's no more air to breathe and no more hill to tumble down on, only the vacuum of a night sky littered with stars, the inside of his irises, watching you as you come. Sudden, violent.
Your body shakes as it sweeps you away, a fire eating you alive like candlelight makes a moth catch aflame, and Arthur leans down to kiss you through it, still fucking you, still not stopping when the too much hits, but oh, he's a great distraction, the way his soft lips apologize, the way his tongue reassures you sweetly that you're doing good. He hums into the kiss, nips on your upper lip as your hands rise and dig into his neck, keeping him close, trapped in your body like a butterfly in sticky honey.
"Ya okay?" he asks softly, whispering the question onto the corner of your mouth, his hands curling around your shoulders, the back of your head. An embrace. Butterflies growing in the same cocoon.
"Feels so good," you whimper, clinging to him, feeling his cock hit deep again, resuming a lost rhythm like one replays a song on a guitar. The same chords flowing for a dance practiced by lovers. "Ar-Arthur."
He keeps on going and you keep taking him, the grass crushing under you bodies and you’re sure your whole backside is gonna be green, just like his knees and palms are. It’s blurry from that, your mind so fogged by pleasure that the world swims, a sea of light and wildflowers and clouds, pools of piercing blue-green eyes and crooked teeth that snarl into a smile.
“Do ya have one more for me?” his forehead knocks against yours, his rhythm slowing.
You don’t understand the question, not at first, but his fingers return between your legs, rough on the sensitive flesh of your clit, circling oh so carefully, and you know, Jesus, you know you want to give him everything you can.
"Arthur," you pant, your lips buried in his hair as he plants a humming kiss into the crook of your neck.
"Hm?"
"Don't hold back. Please. Wanna feel you even when you're gone," your tighten your legs around his hips, answer his thrust with the rise of your own, meeting him halfway, like how the sun meets the horizon when pink dusk falls over the valley.
"Don't ask me that I—" he chokes on his words at your interruption, a soft kiss, placed right on the plump of his bottom lip.
"Please,” you encourage him, plead him. You want this so much it almost hurts. Not where he splits you open. Not where he hits deep as he picks up his pace. No, it’s the chest where you ache, the rapidly beating organ that pumps and beats and jumps and flickers, a mass of red, a cluster of muscle that somehow houses all the feelings you have for this man. A heart full of adoration. A heart full of love.
He kisses you so hard it makes you dizzy. Makes the doves caged in your ribs escape and tear you open, leaving only a wide wound in their wake, a door that leads straight down to the pocket-universe you handcrafted in the shape of a golden-haired, glacier-eyed man.
You can feel him getting close, his hard thrusts falling out of rhythm, his fingers urgent on your abused clit. It sits there, the pleasure in your belly, bubbling, spilling over as he desperately chases your own orgasm, fucking you into the ground almost, planting you like a flower, to bloom just for him, just so you can weave your roots together.
Arthur’s arms tremble as he groans into your neck, pulls back to leave a kiss on the side of your mouth, not focused enough for a proper one and you can’t help yourself. That choking feeling you felt rising from the start overspills, makes a landslide, an avalanche. You swallow and look up at him, mesmerized by his half-lidded eyes, glinting in the sun like twin-lakes, his hands holding you tight to him, his cheeks ruddy from all the loving you did to each other.
You slip, and the world tilts.
"Love you," you murmur, breathless, and there's a sudden shudder against you, Arthur's hands going bruising on your flesh, and he's coming, halfway on his way of pulling out. The warmth startles you, and then his grunt too, when he pushes back inside, because it doesn't really matter anymore, with his seed spilling out beside his cock, and some sick, possessive part of him enjoys how you whimper when he stuffs you full again, everything too wet and too hot. You tremble in his hold, terrified and riled up all at once, because feeling him like this makes you a little stupid and so sick with love it aches.
You come again from it, softly this time.
"I'm so goddamn sorry," he groans, trying to play the gentleman, trying to erase memories surfacing. This is not like it was then. He can still do right by you.
"'S okay," you murmur, almost feeling drunk, out of your mind with the way his cock twitches inside you, spurting one last time. "'S okay, Arthur."
You pull him closer, with your fingers in his hair, in his beard. He sags against you, body weak from both his climax and emotions, and he presses his forehead to yours. It's a thing almost more intimate than a kiss. A thing full of the unspeakable truth, but you're not ready for it, and he isn't either.
He watches you for a few seconds, his eyes flickering, a candle flame in a storm, but finally, finally he gives you a small smile. It's just in his eyes, a secret thing, a treasure so little and so precious it needs to be protected from the ugly cold reality.
"I don't wanna awaken false hopes inside ya," he starts, gently, like calming a wild horse, "but I can't leave ya here thinkin' I don't love you the same."
That's it. That's the time for a tear that sneakily bubbles from the corner of your eye and slides down to the calloused pad of his finger still caressing your face.
"I ain't a good man," he continues, voice impossibly soft, "but I always wanted to do right by ya."
"Arthur," you tremble as you whisper, your hands on his nape, in his hair. Your mouth brushes his brow as you lean in. "Just come back to me. I don't care when. Jus' come back alive."
He nods, then buries his head into your neck, kissing your heated skin, writing a promise there with his lips.
The sun moves and the surrounding mountains start to paint blue shadows over the blooming meadows so you move, first from the embrace, then from the flattened patch of grass and flowers you’ve tangled into each other on. You only put on your dress, no bloomers or shoes, his come still sticky on the inside of your thigh, and he leaves his shirt on the ground too, not ready to let go of this moment.
He looks up at you, eyes sparkling, taking in the sight that is so pretty he wants to never leave. With flowers in your hair, a crown braided from daisies and forget-me-nots and marigolds, with dirt and grass on your skin, with a content smile in the corner of your mouth—you look radiant.
Arthur sits with you in the grass, picking on wild-green blades and chewing on the end of one while he searches for the prettiest little flower blooming right next to your bare feet, nestled close to his.
A perfect bud of white clover. Faith, love, good fortune.
He takes your hand in his, kisses your knuckles, and ties a ring around your finger from the stem, makes the flower sit pretty in the middle, like a chiseled, shiny rock of moonstone.
What is this if not a vow?
What is this if not a promise?
*
In the morning, after loving each other once more in the flickering moonlight, you wake up sore between the legs and dizzy from an intelligible emotion clawing deep inside your chest. The bed is empty next to you, the coffee that Arthur made still steaming on the table. You don't dress up, just pull the quilt over your body and run outside, onto your small porch to gaze down the valley bathing in golden light. A silver dapple mare gallops down there, on the spine of a mud-snake road.
Arthur rides away.
You stumble back to the chair on the porch, full with something bittersweet. Overripe cherries rotting on a tree. A black heart dripping honey. Your ribcage squeezing your lungs like a fist. You take a shaky breath and when he completely disappears from your view you lean back, almost sit down on a leather-covered book. It's a journal. Another one, smelling like fresh paper and horse hair and him.
You open it as you settle, the quilt drawn tight around your barely covered body.
There's a drawing on the first page, two wild doves huddled together, and a flower of white clover tied into a ring, pressed down into the page.
Under it, scrawled hastily with Arthur's flowing handwriting:
I promise.
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#high honor arthur morgan#rdr2 fanfiction#rdr2 fanfic#red dead redemption fanfiction#red dead redemption 2 fanfiction#arthur morgan fanfiction#ao3#fanfiction
997 notes
·
View notes
Text
Candles
spencer reid/gn!reader
happy 26th anniversary of my escape from the womb, as a celebration pls enjoy this lil smth smth while i spend the evening eating a whole cake by myself🧡
masterlist
word count: 1.3k // warnings: zero just vibes, also glasses reid comes with his own warning🫡
It’s been a mission and a half, keeping it all under wraps. Penelope’s been the worst, but you managed to convince her not to put a reminder on everyone’s calendar - a new sparkly unicorn friend for her desk collection was enough to satiate her. For this year, at least.
Birthdays aren’t what they used to be.
They used to be a month long affair, sparkly and exciting. Now it’s just a day. You might get a couple of cards from a couple of family members, you might treat yourself to a takeout so you don’t have to cook, you might watch your favourite movie. It’s nothing special anymore, but you don’t mind that. It’s just a part of growing up.
Which is exactly why you’d expressly forbidden Garcia from organising any kind of celebration when she’d cornered you in the elevator about it last week. You’re still a relatively shiny new toy in the BAU, and being the centre of attention isn’t one of your strong suits anymore. You’re happy to let it pass largely unnoticed by your colleagues. She can do something next year, for sure, when you’re settled in properly. Provided there are no cases that demand attention.
Your back still aches from the flight back yesterday evening, nobody ever said sleeping sitting up is good for you. But, thankfully, it means that everyone’s been too swamped in paperwork today to have noticed Penelope’s extremely subtle efforts to make the day a little easier for you. Her way of celebrating, you were never going to get away that easily. A coffee this morning, a muffin from the café when she came back from her lunch break, she’d even called you into The Lair to present you with a card. Secretly, of course, so as not to arouse suspicion. It’s tucked away in your bag now, safe and sound. Glitter and all.
“Goodnight, my loves.” She appears in your field of vision, blonde head bobbling over the divider between your desk and Morgan’s.
You raise your hand to wave, but the occupant of the desk to your right is far too engrossed in the file to notice. It’s just the three of you left in the office - Penelope, you, and Spencer. Even Hotch has gone, armed with a stack of case files and a furrowed brow.
“See you in the morning, P.” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to return her smile, however tired you might be. That’s the thing about Penelope Garcia, you’ve learned, her energy is kind of infectious. She totters over to your desk with a sly look over at Reid, who still doesn’t appear to be paying any attention.
“Happy Birthday.” She whispers, throwing you an exaggerated wink. Okay, maybe you feel a little bit guilty about depriving her of the celebration she wanted to give you.
And then she’s off, and it’s just you and Reid and the occasional quiet tapping of keyboards, the sifting of papers.
You’ve been absorbed by a file, checking and double checking your additions to the report are accurate, so you don’t really pay Reid any mind when he wanders off towards the kitchen. Your red pen is out, scribbling on an extra copy of the notes. The Unsub on this case had been crafty, but not crafty enough, and your confidence is growing with the handful of takedowns now under your belt. It’s nice to feel like you’re contributing to the team’s success - it’s still your rookie year, but your handcuffs are a little less shiny than they were. You’re about to start typing up your amendments when there’s a noise behind you, like someone clearing their throat. They do it again, a little louder, a little less unsure. It’s unexpected to say the least, the image you’re presented with when you turn in your chair.
Doctor Spencer Reid - adjacent desk mate, awkward stakeout buddy, bespectacled distraction - is holding a small plate out to you, one single cupcake in the centre. There’s a birthday candle stuck in the chocolate swirled icing, just the one, tiny flame wobbling away in the air conditioning. He looks nervous, but there’s a glint in his eye hiding behind his glasses. You wonder what kind of threats Penelope made to get him to do this.
“Garcia said you didn’t want a fuss,” He starts rambling, “So, I figured I would wait until there were less people around and - well, it looks like it’s just us now.”
You’re fumbling for something to say, anything.
“This was - yeah, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it? You didn’t want a fuss and I did this and now you-“
“It’s okay.” You say, finally finding your voice. Matching smiles start to grow, slowly, and the lingering awkwardness evaporates.
It’s hard not to play up the childish wonder of it all - even in the beige and navy confines of the BAU office. Reid still holds the cupcake out towards you as you squeeze your eyes shut, nose wrinkled. Making a wish. You’re not really sure what it is you’re wishing for, maybe it’s that you’ll settle in with the team for the long term, maybe it’s that you’ll catch every bad guy until there’s none left, maybe it’s that a certain teammate will keep looking at you with those big old eyes and a hint of a smile on his face. Whatever it is, it’s good enough, and you open your eyes slowly. Leaning forward, one small puff of breath extinguishes the little candle. Birthday ritual complete. You’re sure Reid has a fun fact about the history of birthday celebrations and the burning of foodstuffs, but you don’t ask just yet. He’s still holding the plate out to you.
“Split it with me?”
His answering grin is contagious, you’ve no choice but to return it as he turns on his heel to hunt down a knife from the kitchen.
“And since it’s just the two of us,” He chatters on his way back from the kitchen, a second plate and butter knife in tow, “I won’t even make you wear the birthday hat.”
There’s a birthday hat, good lord. You’re glad you managed to hold Penelope off for one year, even if it’s the only one she’ll let you have.
“You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“There’s always next year.” Reid is grinning into his half of the cupcake, deliberately not watching you process the fact that you will absolutely be wearing the birthday hat this time next year. But it’s surprisingly heartwarming to hear that he thinks you’ll be with the team for your next birthday. Not that you don’t expect to be, but having confirmation that the others believe it too makes you feel a little fuzzy.
“At least I caught Garcia before she organised a street party, a card and a cupcake do me just fine.” Your words are muffled around the mouthful of cake and icing.
“Oh, she didn’t do this.”
You don’t follow. That much must be clear on your face, because he presses on.
“I made a batch, but then Penelope said you wanted low-key. So I only brought one.”
He made it?
He made it. For you.
If he wasn’t hurtling towards inappropriate crush territory already, he sure is now.
“Thank you, Spencer.”
It doesn’t escape your notice that it’s the first time you use his name. Not Doctor, not Reid, just Spencer. He’s noticed too, if the blush steadily creeping up his cheeks is anything to go by. But you don’t want him to steam up his glasses, and you definitely don’t want to dig yourself in any deeper - so you ask him about birthday candles, an answer he’s more than happy to provide between the last mouthfuls of cupcake and remaining file reports.
Maybe the work birthday thing isn’t so bad, you’ll just have to find that hat before next year.
the canyouniverse is back with a vengeance baybieeee 🧡🧡 i’m love them sm (and you!! for reading!!!)
#featuring bestie penelope garcia!!!! for no other reason than i adore her!!!!#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#lou writes#the canyouniverse
185 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ninety-nine-names
ninety nine names
arleneramo2
Caso alex saab
sidonius5
ℛ𝑜𝓉𝓉𝓌𝑒𝒾𝓁𝓇𝟖𝟔
melayuugituu
alliswell