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livinginshambles · 9 months

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How much are we worth? | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Sirius bets that James can't get a girl to go out with him. James pursues you and falls for you. You are hurt when you find out that you were just a bet, even more when you realise how little they bet on you.

Notes: A classic: Strangers to friends to lovers, Angst, Bet trope, Fluff and happy ending because yey, I believe in second chances :) Existence of a wardrobe that works like newt scamanders suitcase and SPeLLing Mistakes

Masterlist

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In hindsight, you should've known.

"Have you maybe considered giving up on her?" Remus' question caught James off guard when he returned to the marauders at the Gryffindor table after another failed attempt and rejection by Lily.

"Not until she's given me a chance at least," James responded, eyes trained on Lily's retreating figure. "Besides, this chasing game is sort of our thing now."

The marauders nodded sceptically.

"Not particularly the dynamic I'd want to have with the person I fancy," Peter whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. James shot him a look as if Peter had just committed the greatest betrayal of the century.

Sirius snorted out loud. "Dynamic my ass, yeah." He threw a piece of bread across the table in James' direction.

"He's stuck with Lily now because if he decides to chase some other poor girl and inevitably get rejected, it'll prove that James Potter just can't get some," he added, wearing a shit eating grin on his face.

James pulled a face at Sirius. "Oh please I can get girls. It's just that contrary to you, I actually show commitment to only one," he huffed.

Sirius shrugged. "You say that, but you've never even had a girlfriend. Been pining over Evans since first year. Besides, commitment or being stuck," he weighed his hands in the air. "Same same."

James rolled his eyes and got up. When he turned around, he crashed into someone who had been standing behind him, tripping her, and he sent her crashing into the Ravenclaw table behind him. The Ravenclaw sitting at that table ducked out of the way. She stuck her hands out to brace herself and loudly hissed when her hand ended up in someone's scalding soup.

"Godric, I am so sorry," James scrambled to offer her a napkin. She snatched it out of his hands and dried her hands. James saw that they were scorching red and more apologies stumbled out of his mouth.

"Let me help you get to madam Pomfrey," he offered, concern lacing his tone. He reached his hand out to her and she jerked away.

"Fuck off Potter, I'd rather take a bloody bath in boiling water than go anywhere with you." She spat, and left, hand pressed against her chest, covered by the napkin.

The commotion had everyone turn their heads at him and despite usually being a fan of being at the centre of attention, he embarrassedly sat down again.

"Guess really no girl wants to go anywhere with you, Prongs," Sirius snickered. James offered him a sour look.

"This was just because I literally burned her hand, Pads. Any other time, she would totally go out with me." James boasted, but guilt and concern for the girl who he didn't know, lingered in his mind.

"Right, you wanna bet?"

"The usual?"

"The usual."

They sealed the deal with a nod. Peter and Remus shared a look but they knew that was no use trying to tell them to stop it already. Remus thought back to the scowl on the girl's face and prayed that she would stay headstrong and reject James.

After all, Sirius and James were from wealthy families, so money has never actually played a role during these bets. It’s just the principle of it that counts and is the reason why they only ever bet one galleon. It meant someone would get hurt.

The scowl on your face disappeared with the cool relief of the running water from the girls bathroom on your hand, but the bitter feeling remained when your mind wandered to James Potter. You scoffed to yourself. Arrogant, self pretentious, blood boiling bully. Though never having been a victim of their pranks, you lost several friends to Beauxbatons because of the marauders’ cruelty.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time and left for your Ancient Runes class where you walked to your designated seat next to Lily Evans. You two unsurprisingly got along. Though your personalities were nothing alike, you being rather reserved, you could both value each other’s calm presence and even ‘maturity’ to a certain degree.

She offered you a smile and you nodded at her in acknowledgement. “I’m embarrassed to ask this, but could I maybe share your book? I didn’t have time to pick it up after lunch.” Lily gave you a surprised look but quickly assured you that you could to which you offered her a small but grateful smile.

She opened her mouth to tell you something, when something else, or rather someone else, caught her attention. Before he even reached the table, she had already attempted to ward him off in a monotone voice. “Go away Potter, I’m not interested.”

“Not here for you, Lilypad,” he smugly said and stopped right next to you. Lily raised her eyebrows and looked at you with a concerned look. Without looking up from Lily’s book, you also repeated Lily’s words. “Fuck off Potter, I’m not interested either.”

“I haven’t even said anythi-“

“And I don’t want you to.”

“Okay, but here me out, I-“

“I. Don’t. Want. You. To,” you pronounced every word clearly.

“Come on, just listen-“

You turned around, an incredibly sour look on your face. James couldn’t help but admire you for a moment. You looked pretty, contorted face aside. Especially when you had smiled at Lily. It had caught him off guard.

“Can you spare me a second?” He tried again. For a second, he thought he saw a look of appreciation cross your face at his formulated words, but it was gone in a split second.

“No. Class is starting, get back to your seat Potter,” you dryly responded. You turned back to your book and James walked back to his friends.

James potter was determined though, you had to give him that. You abruptly turned on your heels, ready to walk in the opposite direction, even if it would mean a detour of about 8 minutes to your destination. You were really not into his crap today.

“Y/N!” James called out to you and chased you.

“I told you to call me by my last name. We're not friends, Potter. I don’t want to be. In fact, I don’t want anything to do with you. So, for Merlin’s sake, leave me alone, or I swear on his balls that I will hurt you.” You spat the last part out through gritted teeth and

James took a step back in surprise. He looked at you for a moment, carefully considering his next words. “L/N.” He settled on, voice quieter. When you didn’t immediately walk off, he took it as a sign to continue. “I was wondering if you would allow me to sit next to you during our free period between Transfiguration and Potions.”

You raised you eyebrows.

“My friends all took classes and there’s like a two hour gap and I like company, that’s all,” he hastily explained before you could go and reject him.

“What are you, six years old?” You sarcastically asked him. “Can’t spend what, two hours on your own?”

James’ eyes averted to the ground. “Just not enjoying being alone,” he mumbled, almost embarrassedly. You looked at him, great, now you were being an asshole yourself.

“You know the big old wardrobe in the abandoned classroom on the seventh floor?” you eventually asked. James’ eyes lit up and nodded.

“It’s bigger on the inside.” You said.

“A secret room?” He asked while trying to recall seeing an extra room on the map. You nodded. “Not even visible on your map because it’s not Hogwarts. A pocket dimension, Dumbledore said.”

James’ jaw fell slack. “You know about the map?” he whispered.

“You can join me there between classes next week if you want, but I can’t promise you that it’ll be any different to passing the time on your own.” You said, completely ignoring him. You stopped in front of the library. “A word about the wardrobe and I swear-“

“-on Merlin’s balls that you’ll hex me, yeah,” he waved you off with a triumphant smile.

“Witty, are you now.” You looked at him. A small smirk lingering on the corner of your lips. James heart skipped.

“Just one of the effects you have on me, darling,” he winked at you. “L/N,” he quickly corrected when your face fell into a scowl again.

“I’m not kidding though, this is my spot to get away from everything. I don’t feel like sharing it with people.” James felt flattered. So you would share it with him?

“I solemnly swear I won’t tell,” he assured you, a serious expression on his face. “You can trust me, L/N.” He cringed at his own words. Trust him? He was only talking to you to prove Sirius wrong.

“I’ll hold you to it, Potter,” you nodded and entered the library. The door closed and James slouched against the wall next to him. A giddy feeling fluttered in his stomach at the thought of hanging out with you.

“So what happened to rather bathing in boiling water than going anywhere with me,” James couldn’t help but arrogantly ask while trying to keep up with your ridiculously fast walking pace as you two were on your way to the wardrobe. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re going somewhere with me,” you denied, your eyes narrowed at him. James put his hands up in mock surrender. “Lead the way, L/N.”

“I am,” you deadpanned.

James sceptically looked at the oak wardrobe. He and his friends had rummaged through this room already. It included the wardrobe, but it had looked pretty normal.

“Doesn’t look very special,” he said while you were busy locking the door behind you. You made your way over to James and pushed him out of the way roughly. He gaped at you with an offended look on his face. “You know, being a bit more chivalrous wouldn’t hurt you,” he exclaimed.

You shrugged and opened the door. James stared in amazement as he realised that the inside was in fact bigger. He walked to the wall that the wardrobe was standing against and squeezed his hand between the wall and the wardrobe.

“Why are you so surprised?” you asked. “We literally learned about the Extension charm yesterday?”

“We did?”

Maybe hanging out with James Potter wasn’t as terrible as you had expected it to be and so, it became a routine. James had finally realised that his persistence to flirt with you or try to impress you wasn’t getting him anywhere and had opted to actually be considerate of you.

He respected you when you not so kindly told him to fuck off and was sitting next to you quietly while you studied between hours in the wardrobe. He had read the book that he’d seen you read in the courtyard- and was surprised to find himself interested in the story- so that he could talk to you about something when your demeanour told him that he could speak again. He stuck to calling you by your last name and learned to read your mood when he could joke around.

Most importantly, he’d learned to enjoy himself in a comfortable silence that didn’t require him to do or say anything and just let him be.

You two were laying on the couch again, feet propped up, both on opposite sides, but feet touching in the middle. James was admiring you. The way your eyebrows crunched up in a frown, eyes squinted, and lips mouthing the words you were reading.

“You’re careless with spelling, Potter.” You eventually looked up from correcting his assignment. “But that’s a brilliant essay.”

James beamed up at you, relief, pride and happiness all washing over him at once.

“Also, you have a nice handwriting,” you added after considering whether or not you should mention it.

James was now fully grinning, pushing himself to sit up from his relaxed position. “Two compliments?” he asked teasingly and you immediately huffed and looked away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Potter. It’s big as it is.”

“But you think I’m brilliant and that my handwriting is nice.” He repeated happily.

“Your essay was brilliant,” you attempted to correct him, but he seemed to be lost in happy thoughts. You looked at him. He had his arms up behand his neck because he had laid down again. He was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes squinted in delight and satisfaction. He looked so... harmless.

“You know,” you began and James looked up at you, propping himself up a little in curiosity at the fact that you were starting the conversation for the first time.

“I used to think you were the biggest asshole ever. Astoundingly stupid and good for nothing but hurting people.” You were looking up at the ceiling now and missed the way James eyes flashed with mixed feelings.

“I had a few friends, you know. They were great, but everyone called them boring and a stick in the mud.” You turned your head towards James. “You and the rest of the marauders used to tell us to “lighten up already,” and pranked us separately, one by one until all five moved schools.”

James looked down, feeling horrible and guilty. It was true that in his early years at Hogwarts, he and his friends had been going too far with pranks. That kind of stopped after that prank.

“So I’ve held a grudge against you, like any good friend would do,” you smiled to yourself at the thought of your friends. “I think maybe I no longer have to.” James heart melted at your confession. Over the course of weeks, he’d become desperate for your approval and friendship.

“You’ve changed since then,” you concluded out loud. “Not cruel anymore.” You hesitated for a moment.

“James?” You then asked and James looked up at you with wide eyes. He knew that this was the first time that you’d addressed him by his name instead of ‘Potter’.

“Yeah?”

“I really value our friendship,” you whispered. “It’s worth a lot to me.”

James heart both warmed and tightened. “It’s worth a lot to me too,” he whispered back.

“Where were you,” Remus asked when he returned to the Gryffindor common room. “We looked on the map, but we couldn’t find you.”

“And we couldn’t find Y/N either.” James fought the urge to correct them and say that they shouldn’t use your first name like that. That he had worked for your friendship to stop calling you by your last name.

“Do I owe you a galleon now?” Sirius popped up from behind him. “What? No,” James said, thinking of another subject to talk about, wanting to ignore the existence of the bet in the first place.

“I was hanging out with Y/N,” he admitted. “But because we're friends now.”

“Yeah, but where were you hanging out?” Peter asked. “Because we weren’t allowed to leave Hogwarts today.”

“Did you find another secret passage?” Sirius gasped and James immediately shook his head to deny it. “Oh come on, we’re your friends, you have to tell us!”

Remus watched James shift uncomfortably and tried to intervene. “Let him be, Padfoot.” Sirius wasn’t having it though, and when James said that he promised not to tell, he responded with, “What, you value your fake friendship with that stick-up-her-ass girl more than us?”

“It’s not a fake friendship,” he weakly fought back. “Don’t call her that.”

Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry Prongs. I didn’t mean to call her that, hell I don’t even know the girl, she’s probably alright. But you’re keeping secrets, it’s not fair.”

You stared in disbelief at the marauder who wasn’t James, having a hook-up in your wardrobe. When he noticed you in the entrance, Sirius merely held his hand up at you in a greeting. “Thanks for letting me borrow this, this is the best spot for not getting caught.”

You backed away and slammed the door shut. James.

“Potter!” you yelled at him when you saw him leave the Gryffindor chambers. Your face was contorted in anger and you were seething.

He looked up at you, happy feeling in his chest and he was itching to show you the paper behind his back.

You stabbed your finger in his chest, effectively wiping the happy grin on his face off. “You promised,” you hissed. James immediately knew what you were talking about. “I’m sorry, I had to tell him,” he tried to justify his actions and you scoffed. “Fuck you,” you spat and walked off.

James stood there, frozen and stared at the empty spot in front of him. His arms hung by his side and he looked down at his essay which wore a big ‘O’ mark and right next to it in Professor McGonagall’s handwriting, ‘Keep this brilliant work up, Mr. Potter.’

James was watching you, sulking. He had made such progress and now it felt as if all those baby steps were for nothing, instead taking eight long strides back. You had closed yourself off again and James was too intimidated by your glares every time he walked in your direction, so he would change directions last minute every time you burned a hole through his head with your eyes.

‘This is so stupid’ he thought to himself when his body automatically steered him away from you again. He mustered up all of his courage and headed straight for you. He would rather face your wrath head on than go back to being strangers. Especially when tomorrow was free period again.

“Is it okay if I talk to you for a moment?” he asked, nervous.

You scanned him up and down. Everything about him looked remorseful, from his posture to dull eyes to his tone when he asked you if he could have a word. You waved at him to take a seat next to you, and he gratefully took the opportunity.

“I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t tell and I did and I shouldn’t have. I would go back in time and stop past me from telling Sirius, but I can’t, but I also don’t want to lose you because I meant what I said. This friendship is worth so much to me.” James took a deep breath. “So please let me make amends?” he finished.

“Okay.”

James blinked. “Okay?” he dumbly repeated.

“That’s what I said.”

“Wait, so that’s it? No grovelling? No conditions?”

“Would you like me to add conditions?”

“I mean..” James stuttered. “Sure?”

“Fine. Consider this your second chance , even though it technically is your third after your horrid behaviour towards my friends. It’s also your last.” You said that last part sharply. “Do you accept those terms?”

James nodded in relief and agreed. It was only when he laid in bed at night that he realised that he should’ve probably gotten clean on the matter of the bet right when he had the chance. He was on his last chance after all. But it would be alright. He would simply call off the bet and then it would be as if nothing ever happened. No one had to know, no one had to get hurt.

He waited after Transfiguration and grinned at you when you made your way to him. He had really looked forward to spending time with you again at your spot. Even if the marauders knew its location now, too.

“Lead the way, Y/N.”

“I am,” you retorted with a hint of amusement in your voice. James grinned and followed you, only noticing after a while that you were walking around on the third floor instead of the seventh. “Did you find a new spot?” he curiously asked.

“Yes. And no.” James huffed at your vagueness, imploring you to explain. “Let’s just say that Dumbledore got himself off my blacklist.” You turned the corner and moved a portrait to the side. James knew of the passageway. It was moist in there and cold so it hadn’t interested him and his friends very much. But behind the door you just opened, stood your wardrobe.

He looked at it, amazed. “You got Dumbledore to move a wardrobe for you?” he asked incredulously. You slyly smiled but didn’t say anything except for “I did the cleaning myself.”

“So what’s going on with you and James,” Lily curiously asked you. You shrugged and brought your water bottle to your lips. “Kept bothering me into a friendship, I guess.”

Lily laughed. “Well, whatever keeps him away from me,” she joked and you let out an audible laugh. She leaned in towards you. “But if he’s no longer fighting for my attention, but yours, I think it might mean that he fancies you.”

You choked on your water. “Most certainly not!” You strictly assured her and composed yourself. Lily laughed. “No need to get so defensive over his feelings. You make it seem as if I suggested that you fancied him,” she said, chuckling. You turned your head away and she gasped. “Do you fancy him?”

“What’s with all this gossiping and boys talk,” you grumbled, unpleased. “But for the record, I don’t think so.” You stuck your nose up.

“You don’t think so?” Lily repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I gravely appreciate him and I feel very comforted in his presence. We’re friends. It doesn’t mean I fancy him.” You answered. “Besides, I’ve never fancied anyone. Not sure I know what it’s like.”

“Okay, how would you feel if he starts dating someone, right now?”

You pondered over the question for a bit. “I guess he can do whatever he wants, but don’t expect me to share our spot with some random girl,” you said, the last part coming out more bitter than you expected. Huh. ‘Did you fancy James Potter?’ you wondered.

“I fancy her,” James told his friends while they were out in Hogsmeade.

“L/N?” Peter asked. James nodded in affirmation. “Well damn Prongs,” Sirius started. “What happened?”

“Y/N and I are good, I think. We fit and it feels amazing. It seems surprising, but we can talk for hours or sit in silence together without it being weird at all. Everything is comfortable with her, in like the good way,” James struggled to express all his feelings about you.

Sirius whistled. “Almost envious of you, Prongs. What about Evans though?”

James shrugged. “Not the kind of dynamic I want.”

“So are you going to tell her?” Remus asked. James puffed his chest. “Of course. I’m not shy about my feelings. I publicly chased after Lily for years,” he reasoned. But despite his big words, he felt like a nervous wreck. Because what if you rejected him?

James found you in the library. “Is now a good time?” he asked. You sat up straight. Last night, you had done a lot of thinking and came to the conclusion that yes, you fancied James Potter. “Yes, actually. I wanted to talk to you,” you replied. You got up and and started to gather your belongings. James grabbed your books for you and you left the library.

“I fancy you.”

James blinked. Were his ears deceiving him? Were you joking? Did you have a bet of your own going on with someone?

“I’m sorry?” he managed to get out, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“I fancy you,” you stated again. Matter of factly. “I came to the realisation yesterday and they do say honesty is the best policy.” James laughed softly at your sad attempt to lessen the awkward atmosphere.

“I actually wanted to talk to you to say the same thing,” he breathed out in a relieved manner. You stared at him in surprise. Okay. Definitely not what you expected.

“So you fancy me.” You repeated to make sure.

“And you fancy me.” James nodded.

“Do you want to go out with me?” you asked.

James’ heart leaped. He had spent so much time asking that question, he realised that how amazing it felt to hear the question directed at him. He grinned. “Glad you asked, darling. Yes, I’ll go out with you.” He reached out to you carefully wrapped an arm around you. You fully leaned into him in a hug and breathed him in.

“Think our relationship just went up in value.” You mumbled, your words slightly muffled by your face, hidden in his sweater.

You felt him laugh. “Well, we upgraded from friends to couple. How much are we worth now?”

You pretended to think about it. “We’re worth all the money in Gringotts bank.”

“That’s a lot of money,” he hummed.

You had taken James out on a date in the middle of the Gryffindor Quidditch stands at night, after curfew. James was the first to lean in and kiss you and when he did, he practically melted into you, your arms slung over his broad shoulders. He’d muttered something about how lucky he was and you’d told him that he better know it, before admitting that you felt the same way.

After you had left him several hickeys, scattered across his neck, he had insisted on returning the favour. He was only on his second when you two were interrupted by Filch, who had spotted you two. You two ran off to the third floor and decided to hide out in your wardrobe until he was gone all while continuing making out. You and James fell asleep in that position. You on your back on the couch, James draped over you like a weighted blanket with his face nuzzled in your throat, and your legs entangled.

Though very surprised at first, your fellow Hogwarts students quickly got used to the idea of you and James in a relationship. It wasn’t long before you were walking down the corridors together, James hand on your lower back and inching lower. You shot him a warning glare and he bit his check when he splayed his hand over your ass with a cheeky smile. You elbowed him in the ribs, earning a huff and let your hand rest on his ass in turn.

Everything was perfect, which is of course why everything had to become a disaster very quickly. James wasn’t even sure how such a perfect night had turned so horrible. One moment, you were partying, everything had been great, and he had been envisioning you and him for the rest of your lives, and the next, he was pleading with you through a locked door.

“Y/N, we can call you Y/N right?” Sirius had drunkenly slurred. You had rolled your eyes at his antics, but nodded. Though you would never admit it out loud, you appreciated the elder Black.

“I like you. We all like you and we’re happy that it’s you and not Evans anymore,” he mumbled on and he stumbled over his own feet, barely reacting in time to not drop to the floor.

You internally smiled at his words.

“I’m sorry that I was an asshole to you. You’re really great. If I had known, I wouldn’t have targeted your friend group for pranks or risked your feelings by making you part of a stupid bet.”

It was as if the world stopped spinning for a moment, music only barely in the background. “A bet?” you spoke in a dangerously low voice.

Sirius seemed to catch on to your change in demeanour and sobered up at an incredible rate. “Shit, no-“

But you had already turned around to find James, Sirius stumbling behind you to try and stop you.

“How much?” you spat out angrily when you found him. The music was luckily loud enough to hide your argument from other students.

James looked at you, confused. “How much?”

“How much are we worth?”

James frowned at you question. “All the money in Gringotts bank,” he calmly answered you and moved to embrace you, thinking you were just very drunk.

You pushed him away and he stumbled a few steps back.

“No,” you hoarsely responded. “That’s how much I think we’re worth. How much did you bet on me.”

James’ blood ran cold. “I-“ His words opened and closed like a fish. “Because the amount better have been fucking worth it, James,” you cut him off.

“Darling-“

You felt numb. “How little?”

“A galleon.”

You nodded and stepped back. “I was wrong,” you shakily breathed out. “You, James Potter, are still cruel.”

James chased you. “Wait, please,” he begged. You ran out of the room, towards the third floor and into the wardrobe hidden behind the door behind the portrait.

James followed you and pulled on the knob to open the wardrobe that you had locked. He sunk down against the doors and took a deep breath.

He had to explain. He had to let you know that you meant everything to him. And that everything was real. Honesty is the best policy after all, right?

“I’m sorry. Darling, I am so sorry. It’s so stupid how it happened. They were saying that I couldn’t get anyone to go out with me and then I accidentally hurt you with the soup incident, so Sirius bet with me that I couldn’t get anyone you to go out with me. I was never planning on hurting you, I swear,“ James rambled.

“I wanted to apologize and make up for your hand anyway. Not that it was out of pity or anything,” he immediately added.

“I did think you were beautiful. I did want to talk to you. And when you rejected me at first, yes, I did want to prove Sirius wrong. But then you were everything. I wanted so desperately to be friends with you because you were right. The bet was stupid, but it was never about money. It was never even about you per se, but I’m so fucking happy that it ended up being you, because I’m in love with you. Please believe me.”

You sucked in a breath at his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

James jumped at your voice from the other side of the door. “I wanted to, I really did. But I had already screwed up once and you weren’t going to give me anymore chances, so I thought that if I just never told you and called of the bet, pretending it never happened, I could keep you.” He leaned back against the door, eyes tightly shut. “And if we break up, then I don’t regret it, because the past months with you were perfect,” he whispered.

The door abruptly opened from inside out and he stumbled back, having leaned against it. He looked up at you, hovering above him. He knew you. He knew how to read you and right now, you needed space. “I’ll wait for you,” he said, hesitantly and left you alone.

You needed your friends right now.

When James didn’t see you the next day, he accepted that you didn’t want to see him. But by now, almost an entire week had passed and James and his friends were itching to apologize to you at least once more. He decided to ask Lily where you were and was absolutely not prepared for her answer.

“She went to Beauxbatons.” Lily pursed her lips at the boy in front of her in disdain. She knew what had happened but couldn’t help but pity him a little bit when he looked at her like that. Devastated.

James’ world stopped and for a moment he thought he couldn’t breathe. Did you leave? Had he managed to push you away to a whole different school? He thanked Lily for her answer and sat down at his own desk in a daze. His body moved on autopilot for the next few days. He was falling into a routine that he didn’t like.

During free periods, he hid out in the wardrobe, face up towards the ceiling as he imagined you were lying in his arms right then.

You had been gone for a week and a half and had returned to Hogwarts. Feeling lighter in your heart and decisive steps carrying you towards the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, right on time for the match.

You saw James and your heart jumped. He looked good. He had definitely looked better before, but all in all, he looked good. You bit your lip, suddenly insecure and doubting his promise to wait for you. Another twenty points for Gryffindor and admired James from the distance.

When you had arrived at Beauxbatons, you had wallowed in self pity for a day or two before your friends had pulled you out of it and reasoned with you. Surprisingly on James’ behalf.

You knew they were right. You were madly in love with James and he was undoubtedly madly in love with you too. Though it had all started off as a bet, how could you stay upset when it only brought you and James together.

James eyes scanned through the crowd, automatically trailing to the spot where you two had been sitting and kissed during your first date. He had to do a double take when he saw you in the crowds and almost fell off his broomstick when he rubbed his eyes with both hands to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He started making his way towards you when his eyes locked onto the golden snitch. His eyes flickered between you and the snitch, but you had seen it too, so you flashed him a grin. His shoulders relaxed, and he started the chase.

“Darling?” James appeared in the doorway to the boy’s changing rooms.

“James,” you nodded. You were smiling at him, and your warm, inviting tone had him move forward until you were within reach.

“I’ve missed you so much, I thought I lost you.”

“Hm, you’re just lucky that I really really love you too.” You sassed back. James was in front of you in two big steps. “Yeah?” he asked a twinkle in his eye. “Just like that? No grovelling? No conditions?”

You kissed him. “Would you like me to include grovelling?” you laughed at him.

“Yeah actually. You see, I’ve already prepared at least eight different ways to make up to you.”

He pressed his lips to yours again.

“Get a room!” Sirius yelled and you shot him a sour look. He held up his hands in surrender, a shit eating grin still present on his face.

“Fine, but don’t expect your captain back for the celebratory party. He’s mine tonight,” you shot back.

“And every other night, I hope?” James coyly smiled at you. You shook your head in amusement and dragged him away, hand slipping to rest on his ass, his own hand finding its way to yours.

“Lead the way, Darling.”

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @moonys0chocolate @grac3aph3lion @someonesuggestmeaname @mel-yldrm @yrseline @apiec @earfquak3 @yourvvenicebitch @venomsvl @leyla-ravenclaw @spacedangel @darrarii @shrekscrustybudassy @unsleptwriter @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs

@targaryenmoony @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @quackitysdrugdealer @gaysludge @acciotwinz @in2meijasworld @shadowbriar @kategables @prongsprincessworld @devilsnightz @lavandersblues @inesven

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders era #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter fic #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders fanfic

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suuuupernovaaa · 10 months

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Treat | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

Your innocent image is shattered when Hobie finds your hidden piercing.

Art credit.

Requested by @friedturtlewhispers. Essentially this, with a different piercing.

Mature. Smut. 18+.

The show hasn't been over for two minutes yet when I feel two strong hands on my waist, gripping tight and pulling me backwards. I nearly spill my drink on the already sticky floor of this underground bar as Hobie spins me around, and brings his lips crashing down on to mine.

"Oh!" I let out a muffled gasp of surprise, and feel Hobie's lips turn up into a smile as they still rest against mine. He pulls away, and takes my drink out of my hand. He brings it to his nose, and takes a sniff. "Gin?" He wrinkles his nose, and I open my mouth to defend my choice, but he's already downed it in one gulp.

"Let's get out of here," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling.

"Oh, okay - bye!" I say over my shoulder to the guy I was talking to at the bar - a big fan of the band, who stands with his jaw agape. I find it awkward to mention that I'm sort of, semi, casually but not really casually, dating a band member. It feels like bragging, probably because I'm so proud of it.

We're outside in the cool night air before I know it, and there's a ringing in my ears from the show.

"Did you like it?" Hobie asks as we turn right, heading towards my apartment.

"I always like it," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Why did we leave so fast?"

He leans over, smirking down at me. "I want to be alone with you."

As I flop back onto the couch, I hand Hobie the beer he requested. He takes it, and immediately leans forward, setting it on the coffee table. before even taking a drink.

Unable to help myself, I pick it up and place it on the coaster that was only inches away.

Hobie rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "You can't spend your whole life cleaning up after me."

I shrug. "Sure I can."

He bumps his shoulder into mine, and I lean back into him. Even though I enjoy spending the weekends out with Hobie, lingering in the bars after his shows until the wee hours, it feels so much more my speed to be back home before midnight, relaxed on the couch, just the two of us.

"This is nice," I say with a contented sigh. Hobie's feet are up on the coffee table, and my legs are crossed, one of my knees resting in his lap. He runs his fingers over my bare leg, starting on my shin and up over my knee. The lights are off, and the dull light of a horror film is the only thing lighting the room. I don't really like scary movies, but Hobie enjoys them as background noise.

I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand moves further up, brushing against the fabric of my skirt, and pausing for a moment as if to ask for permission.

We've been seeing each other for a while, enjoying each other's company and getting to know each other, but physically, it hasn't gone all that far. It almost has, a few times, but Hobie's always had some emergency to attend to.

I feel a little foolish... but I'd almost like to be able to call him my boyfriend before we go any further. I know we're adults, but the label means something to me, anyway.

When I don't protest, his fingers snake up under my skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My breathing is coming more rapidly now, my heart pounding, and his fingers are almost at my panties now. I'm stiff as a board, tense, waiting for his next move.

"Before we... can I ask you something?" I say.

"Anything, love," he replies, but doesn't move his hand. He's tracing soft circles on my inner thigh, and it's hard to gather my thoughts. I remove my head from his shoulder so I can look at him.

His eyes are dark, his lips parted just slightly, and when I glance down, I see the bulge in his pants. I feel an ache in my lower stomach, and wetness between my thighs.

"Are you, or like, am I your..." The words are going as fast as they're coming, and my mouth is dry.

"You're my girl. My only girl. I'm yours." His words are assertive, sure, and his gaze is locked steadily on mine.

I grab his shirt, pulling him to me for a desperate kiss, so elated with his words and so beyond ready for him to do absolutely anything he wants to me.

Leaning back to lay on the couch, I pull him so that he's on top of me, he settles between my legs while his tongue explores my mouth.

His hand finds its way up my thigh again, and runs underneath the waistband of my underwear. His thumb dips down and brushes softly over my clit, and I gasp.

So does he.

"What's that?" he asks, and a blush settles over my cheeks. He sits up just a little, so he can look me in the eyes. "Is that a... piercing?"

I purse my lips a little and nod. "Yes."

"Fuck me, Y/N." He brings his mouth back to mine with twice the fervor of before, and pulls my panties to the side as he does, running two warm fingers over my clit, down to my entrance, and back. "I can't believe... you have that pierced. Oh, fuck, I'm so hard," he moans into my mouth, and I arch my back off the couch as he uses his fingers to trace circles around my piercing.

"Oh, Hobie," I moan, grasping his back. He sits up suddenly, removing his hand from me, and I collapse back onto the couch in a huff.

He takes his vest and shirt off, and then pulls my panties and skirt down over my legs. There isn't a moment to breath before his face is between my legs, and he takes my clit into his mouth, sucking and biting gently, then dragging his tongue down to my entrance to gather the wetness that is quickly forming there.

"Hobie!" I gasp, holding his shoulders tightly. He doesn't let up. He brings up two fingers, teasing at my entrance as he takes my clit back into his mouth, and pushes them gently inside me. "Oh, God," I moan, pressing down onto his fingers as they fuck me.

He's making the most delicious noises, humming and grunting and moaning as he works, showing me no mercy. I feel absolutely desperate with need, and every time he thrusts his fingers in, I grind down on them.

"Oh, god, oh, shit," I gasp as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. He rolls the piercing around his mouth with expert precision, working delicately and then biting down, keeping me always guessing, driving me to ecstasy.

He pulls away just for a moment to look up at me. "Cum for me," he demands, and when he brings his lips back to my swollen mound, I explode. I scream his name as I do, unashamedly loud in my orgasm, and he continues his assault, giving me wave after wave of pleasure, until I am absolutely exhausted.

He brings his head up to mine, and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" he says with a teasing smile, and kisses me firmly. "That's a hell of a surprise."

I grin shyly back at him. "That's the point."

"You're so... innocent. Your ears aren't even pierced! You almost never swear. You go to church, for christ sake!"

I roll my eyes. "Only on holidays with my parents."

"Still," he replies with a laugh. "What a fuckin' treat."

#hobie brown #Hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #Hobie brown fic

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sorcerersandskillusers · 3 months

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I want to talk about one of the most terrifying and interesting bsd characters who almost no fan remembers.

This character nearly tore down the ADA without ever getting involved herself, yet the entire fandom has ignored her because of her terrible anime adaptation.

Who am I talking about?

Nobuko Sasaki

If you haven't read Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam, then you probably don't even know who this character is, in the anime she is watered down to the lovesick girlfriend of an actual villain, and you probably dismissed her immediately. But in the light novel, we get to see how dangerous and cunning she really is, to the point she nearly gets the better of Dazai and almost causes the ADA to be shut down. (Fukuzawa says he would have closed the agency if they hadn't caught her)

In terms of intelligence I'd put her on the same level as Mori, just slightly below the super human genius characters i.e. Dazai, Fyodor and Ranpo

The Azure Apostle

For those who don't remember, Sasaki was the Azure Apostle, a mysterious figure who challenged the agency with several horrifying cases, which would all lead to mass casualties if the agency failed to stop them. These were; uncovering an underground organ smuggling operation (which the agency failed to stop and which massively hurt their reputation) stopping a bombing of Yokohama port which could have killed hundreds of people, and preventing a commercial aeroplane from crashing into the city (this was not included in the anime)

Each of the people, who committed these crimes, had no Idea they were being manipulated and thought it was their own idea the whole time. There was no evidence that anyone else had been involved at all, and the agency had no way to connect her to any of the crimes. And she even makes the genius move of framing Dazai, the mysterious new member with suspicious knowledge of the underworld and a hidden past, as the true culprit.

In fact, she only made one mistake, challenging Dazai. If Dazai had been basically anyone else, they would have been cornered and arrested, but since Dazai's mind works on a level even master strategists can't imagine, he was able to turn the tables on her.

But even after Dazai sees through her plans, the ADA still has to act exactly the way she wants them too and stop the plane crash. Even when they know they're being manipulated, they still have to do exactly what she wanted.

Finally, after Dazai and Kunikida confront her and get her to admit to being behind all those crimes, even then they are powerless to stop her.

Even after being involved with so many massive crimes, Sasaki herself hadn't done anything illegal, so within the law the ADA is completely powerless to stop her.

They can't arrest her, and if they try then the agency will be put in even more danger as will many innocent lives. She has completely trapped the ADA, and even Dazai in a choice to follow the law and let her go or take justice into their own hands and prove they will stoop as low as she did.

In the end, there she has them in a perfect deadlock, let her continue her mission, or kill her themselves. Both are bad outcomes for the ADA.

In the end, Dazai has her killed by using a third party (Rokuzo) to shoot her, so the agency can't be blamed for her murder, though this ends her plans it deeply scars Kunikida and shakes his resolve in his ideals.

The trauma from this event still haunts Kunikida to this day, we see that when he is affected by Q's curse, Sasaki is who he sees.

So thats the Azure Apostle, a terrifying master mind who nearly brought down the Armed Detective Agency, but now lets look at the other side of this character.

Nobuko Sasaki Herself

We know several things about Sasaki as a character and her history from the light novel. That she was a brilliant criminal psychologist and was internationally recognised despite being so young

,that she was the ex-lover of the Azure King and the real mastermind behind his plans, and that she had very little motivation of her own.

That's not meant to be an insult to the character, she says herself that she never really had much direction in life, even with her incredible intelligence she never really had anything she wanted to achieve.

But the Azure King was the opposite, he had powerful drive and strong ideals, he wanted to punish criminals who couldn't be touched by the law and when he failed to change the law as a bureaucrat, she offered him an alternative.

A very important thing here is that neither of them were manipulating or forcing the other into this path, as far as we see they genuinely loved each other, each providing something the other couldn't, Sasaki her mind and the Azure King his drive.

When the Azure king died, Sasaki had no path of her own to follow, so she simply kept following his, even though she doesn't seem to have really cared about his cause.

All of this creates a very unique character, you can't say she was driven by revenge, because she wasn't really driven at all. It's more like she was running on momentum, she had chosen a path to follow and could not stop even though there was nothing pushing her down it any more.

She's a perfect antithesis of Kunikida and was the best possible villain a light novel about him could have had.

A man who brings his ideals into reality with his own hands against a woman who uses others to enforce ideals that were never hers to begin with.

Anyway, I made this because Sasaki is criminally underrated in this fandom, If you haven't read "Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam" I highly recommend it, I've only put a tiny fraction of the amazing story here.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai #dazai osamu #bsd analysis #doppo kunikida #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #bungou stray dogs kunikida #dazai osamu's entrance exam #bsd entrance exam #bsd light novel #dazai's entrance exam #bsd character analysis #bsd characters #Nobuko Sasaki #bsd sasaki

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awfcspencer · 2 months

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Anniversary Night || leah williamson x reader

prompt: Leah wouldn’t forget your anniversary right?

warnings: angst

a/n: this spent so long in the drafts so I figured I'd post it

Every second that passed felt like an hour. The sun had been high in the sky when you began baking the chocolate cake for tonight, but now the sun had dipped below the horizon, and it was beginning to get late.

The extravagant dinner you had spent hours watching tutorials on and carefully following the recipe to its exact details had gone cold. It was Leah’s favorite dish her mother used to make during her childhood, and you enlisted Amanda’s help to properly prepare the dish for your third anniversary with the blonde tonight. She guided you through each step and even went alongside you to the market to get the ingredients. It sat untouched in the middle of the table that you decorated with tiny hearts and rose petals.

The candles you lit minutes before Leah was supposed to arrive had burnt out and the flowers you had set on the table were lacking water as the night grew on. The vinyl you had put on in the background had long ended and left your shared home silent. It was quiet and you were alone.

The time you had spent perfecting your makeup and slipping into a tight black dress that you had been hiding in the back of your shared closet just for tonight was now a waste. The time you had spent decorating the kitchen and bedroom was now all for nothing seeming as it was entering midnight, and it would no longer be the special day. The time you spent using the icing bag to carefully etch ‘Happy Anniversary’ into Leah’s favorite kind of cake was useless. You would never get that time back.

You had tried to ring Leah several times throughout the night, desperately wondering when she was due to return home from training after she did not walk through your shared home at the normal time. Each time you called her it went to voicemail. As each hour ticked by, your smile seemed to fade and your patience began to wither, but most importantly, your heart was shattered. What was initially supposed to be a romantic evening had ended up a big disappointment and the hope of spending time with Leah had disappeared. On the fourth time you tried to reach Leah and were met with her voicemail once again sent your phone crashing into the nearest wall.

You weren’t woken up exactly as the clock striked midnight and showered with kisses like the first anniversary.

You weren’t given breakfast in bed and spent the day in Leah’s warm embrace until the middle of the afternoon like the second anniversary.

Instead you woke up to a cold, empty bed. Not a single text or note from Leah. Not even a kiss goodbye and a promise to return home soon.

Something in your brain allowed you to brush it off though. That should have been your first red flag. Leah always made you feel the most special girl in the world, surely she couldn’t have forgotten such an important day.

Three years ago, Leah had asked you to be her girlfriend after several small dates and continuous messaging. You met the blonde in a low-key bar just on the outskirts of North London and she quickly captured your heart with her charming and compassionate personality. Today marked three years of loving Leah and three years of Leah loving you.

So instead of dwelling in the fact the morning hadn’t been exactly what you pictured, you were sure that Leah would make up for it in the night.

You knew that Leah had thrown herself into hours of rehabilitation and countless physio meetings to help her desperate bid to return to the pitch. Sitting out during Arsenal games and being dropped from the England squad had taken a great toll on the defender. You supported her every step of the way, even when it meant she did not return home until late and left before you awoke the next day. But you figured she would be home on time tonight. You figured she would be home on a special occasion like tonight. But unfortunately, you were incredibly wrong.

You quickly place the uneaten food and cake in the fridge to hopefully preserve them so you could possibly eat them tomorrow. You were met with the mini calendar that was located on the fridge to remind you and Leah of appointment, matches, or meetings. The single date had been outlined in a large red heart since entering the month. You wanted to rip the whole thing off the fridge and tear it in a million pieces, as a way to represent how your heart felt.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to make sense of it all. How could she have forgotten? How could she have let something so important slip through the cracks of her mind? Tears fell from your eyes non-stop, ruining the pretty mascara you had done as it ran down the sides of your cheeks. With just a few minutes until midnight, you couldn’t help prevent your heart from feeling hurt, especially when it was still radio silent from Leah.

You wanted the black dress off. You wanted to take the makeup off. You wanted to tear down every decoration you had put up and throw it in the trash. Instead settling with a quick shower that did not aid in your severed heart and clouded brain. When the time came to enter your shared bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to be suffocated with the defender’s magnetic scent and the thought that she was out somewhere on your anniversary instead of with you. You snatched the comforter off and a pillow and slept on the couch.

---

After another grueling day of rehabilitation followed by a team night out to celebrate the upcoming matches, Leah’s muscles and body ached with exhaustion. But as Leah stepped through the door of your shared home, her heart sank like a stone as she caught sight of the large ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner and the countless related decorations scattered around the house. The worst image of all was you sound asleep on the couch with red puffy eyes.

Today was supposed to be a special day and Leah had forgotten all about it. You heard her enter the home nearly a quarter till 2 A.M. Your anniversary was long over. She seemed tired, most likely from how hard she had been pushing herself in the gym and in training. All that work to get back onto the pitch, to get off the sidelines, not knowing she was sidelining something else, the relationship you thought she valued as much as you did.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” you finally spoke, your voice hardly above a whisper but filled with accusation. You couldn’t meet the defender’s eyes, the hurt in your heart didn’t allow it.

Leah’s head snapped up, guilt flashing across her features before she could mask it. Leah sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair, “I’ve been so busy with rehab and training… I guess it slipped my mind,” she admitted, her voice barely audible at the guilt she felt inside.

“Slipped your mind? Slipped. Your. Mind.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

A wave of hurt washed over you as you struggled to hold back tears. “I can’t believe you forgot our anniversary,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. You couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that gnawed at your heart.

Leah reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the air before she pulled back, as if she was unsure whether she was welcome to touch you. “I’m sorry, I really am,” she said softly, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.

“It’s not just about today,” you choked out, your voice trembling with pent-up emotions. “It’s about feeling like I am not a priority in your life anymore.” She had been so focused on getting back on the pitch that she cut you so deeply in the process. How could she forget?

Leah’s shoulders slumped, her heart aching at the pain she had caused you. “You are a priority, you always have been,” she insisted, her voice think with emotion and guilt. “I’ve just been so focused on rehab. I didn’t realize how much it was affecting us.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at her, torn between wanting to forgive her and wanting her to understand just how much she had hurt you. “I miss us,” you admitted. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to soften your face at the excuses she continued to usher out.

Leah’s heart clenched at your words, a pang of regret coursing through her. “I miss us too. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.” Anger bubbled up inside you, fueled by the recent weeks of feeling neglected and ignored.

You nodded slowly, feeling a glimmer of hope flicker within in. “I want to believe you, really I do. But what about me? What about what I need?”

Leah’s gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet your eyes. “I’m trying, I really am. But it’s not easy.” The blonde’s expression crumbled, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and regret.

Your eyes stung as the tears feel freely, you heart aching with a pain that seemed to have no end. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

The words hung between you like a chasm, a stark reminder of the divide that had grown between you and the defender. As the silence stretched on, you knew something needed to change. Whether that change would bring you closer together or tear you apart.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso

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grugruel · 4 months

Text

Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction

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spiderlyla · 8 months

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Irrational — Miguel O'Hara

synopsis: miguel finally mans up to ask you out—only for a misunderstanding to insue.

tags: eventual fluff, alchemax scientist!miguel × co-worker!reader, jealousy, misunderstandings, reader's gender is not mentioned (gn reader)

inspired by @general-dweebous 's idea.

Silent and cold. Two words that perfectly described the state of Miguel O'Hara's office. Two words that perfectly described the state he was in.

His eyes were transfixed on the box infront of him—or rather the two boxes infront of him. He'd brought extra food to share today, a habit he only picked up lately, mainly because he never had anyone to share food with until recently. The previously warm boxes were now stale and cold, and so were the empanada's inside of them. Doesn't matter. He lost his appetite, and you weren't going to have lunch with him.

He just sat in his chair. Fingernails—or maybe talons, he was unsure— digging into his palm to the point where little scars formed. His thoughs were all mangled up, as he failed to distract himself from the little interaction that led him to be sitting here in the first place.

It was suppose to go so well. He'd even rehearsed it all the night before.

You'd come up to him at his station just before lunch break with ten minutes, asking him if he'd like to sit with you— you did, he agreed.

The two of you would walk to the cafeteria, you'd tell him all about your incompetent co-workers trying to sound as nice as you could, it was sweet, but he was blunt, rephrasing your words to make it sound meaner than what you probably intended. You would laugh. He would laugh—He did laugh. He noticed that you didn't have the little tupperwear box you get everyday in your hands, maybe you were in a rush? No problem, he already had your share of food ready.

You'd sit at your usual table, you did.

You'd ask him what he's eating, he told you.

It was then he would push the small box towards you, telling you he got you one too. You'd take it and take a bite, and you'd compliment the taste of it, probably asking where he got them. He'd tell you he made them. And he did. He woke up extra early this morning just to make these. You'd probably say how much of an excellent cook he is, and that's when he'd do it. He'd ask if you'd like to come later today for dinner at his. He'd be delighted to cook for you.

That's how it was suppose to go, and he hoped you'd agree—he spent hours telling himself that you would agree just to encourage himself to finally get to do this.

But when he tried to proceed with his plan, everything he'd built up came crashing down on him.

He was about to push the box towards you when a man approached your table. He was unfamiliar to Miguel, he didn't work there, that was apparent by his casual sport attire. He tapped your shoulder and you stood up when you saw him, the look of surprise on your face quickly replaced with an affectionate one.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" The guy held up a box—your box. "You forgot to pack lunch this morning, packed it for you and thought I'd drop it off." He handed you the box with a grin, and when Miguel looked back at you, you had the widest, prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

Packed it for you? You live with this guy? But he remembers the time you invited him to that party you threw during New Year's, there was no indication you lived with someone—let alone another man.

"That's so sweet, Ned, thank you." You tip-toed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A kiss on his cheek, your hand on his shoulder. A harsh sensation, undescribable, clawed at Miguel's racing heart.

"Don't mention it—Sorry to intruppt your talk though!" The man—Ned's eyes fell upon Miguel, who was looking at his lap, fiddling with his watch. Trying to rationalise this, never reaching a rational conclusion. "You must be Miguel O'Hara right? I hear alot about you—I mean, alot."

"Ned, don't—" You laughed, putting your hands on his chest as to push him away a little. "He's just embaressing me—Ignore him—" Ned laughed too, putting his hands on yours to prevent you.

"I am Miguel, yes." His voice was hoarse, gruff, it was a miracle anything came out at all with that lump he felt in his throat, suffocating the everloving fuck out of him. "If—If you'll excuse me." He got up, picking up his boxes, and immediately heading to the door.

You didn't even come after him, too occupied with laughing to even notice he was gone.

And here he was, sitting all alone, eyes shut as he tried not to remember the scene of your lips on another man's skin. He grunted, hands tangled in his thick black hair.

"Maybe it's not what it seems," A familiar golden glow appeared by his shoulder. "Maybe you misread the situation—"

"There is nothing here to misread, LYLA." He replied sharply. It was unlike him to not try to even make sense of a situation, but what is there to rationalise? You lived with this guy. He packed you lunch because you forgot it and came all the way to Alchemax's headquarters—which by the way, were on the outskirts of Nueva York—just to give it to you.

How stupid of him to think you'd stay single until he gets the courage to ask you out. How foolish of him to think it was a good idea to get his hopes up for once. How incredibly dumb of him to think this would go in his favor, because when did it ever.

"We don't even know who that is! It could be a friend—"

"LYLA, stop." His head snapped towards the floating hologram of his assistant, "You're the one who encouraged me to do this, and it failed before I even got the chance to try. I am not about to make scenarios up just to be let down again."

She ignored him, of course she did. "—I could always do a quick search. I'm sure I can find out who that is—"

"No," His refusal was immediate. Of course, curiosity and jealousy were eating him from the inside, but with you, he wanted to do this right. He would never breach your privacy like he would any other person. "Enough. We're not discussing this anymore." Miguel tapped his gizmo, and LYLA's hologram immediately dissappeared with a loud protest.

The office was queit again, Miguel wondered if you truly hadn't noticed that he was gone at all. Maybe you did notice and were relieved that he was.

Did he truly misread the situation? Or did he misread what he thought the two of you shared?

The brushing of hands when you walked next to each other, the sweet smile you flashed him everytime you saw him, the way you were so touchy around him, always hugging him and putting your hand on his shoulder to comfort him, the way you caught his stare whenever the two of you were in the same lab, that shy smile that would appear on your face and your reddened cheeks.

Was it just him interpreting it all wrong?

His thoughts were quickly intrupted by a cheery knock on his door, a pattern he knew all too well. Just before he could reply, the door swung open, with you waltzing into his office like you always do.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere!" Miguel grunted, shuffling with some paper on his desk to make himself look busy. "You went running off—"

"I have work to do." He replied dryly, not raising his head from the seemingly empty papers. You stopped by the door, and he was sure if he looked up, he'd see that cute pout of yours.

"You're not having lunch?" Miguel glanced at the two boxes he set aside and shook his head. "No, you should though."

"Who am I suppose to have lunch with then?"

"Your boyfriend isn't going to keep you company?" He looked up, anticipating your reaction. Your face contorted between confusion and absolute shock, then your eyes lit up. A wide grin made its way onto your lips, and you took a few steps towards Miguel's desk.

"Ned's my brother." You chuckled, tilting your head. Miguel felt his neck and ears heat up. He could practically hear LYLA in his ears, teasing him endlessly about this. How would he even know? You never mentioned a brother.

"Oh, I thought...because he said you—I guess—"

"Are you nervous, Miguel O'Hara?" You teased, and he grunted, rolling his eyes. "Ned is always busy, and always out of the country, but he's on vacation and currently living with me."

Of course, why didn't he think of that?

"Oh."

You giggled, fucking giggled at him. He was seething for the past 20 minutes, at the possibility that another man that wasn't him had you all to himself, only for it to turn out to be your brother.

"Not used to being wrong, huh?" You placed a hand on his fisted ones, and he immediately relaxed. "I rarely am."

"Awh, were you jealous, Miguel?" A scoff escaped his lips, he refused to let you tease him.

And you decided to play nice for once, deciding to let it go just to salvage his crumbling pride. "Anyways, those empanada's you were telling me about—"

"One of them is for you." He intruppted, "I...made it. In the morning. They're cold now."

"We could microwave them."

"Or you could come over and make a fresh batch with me." The words slipped off his tounge before he could think twice, something he often found himself doing whenever he was around you. He was about to apologise for being too bold, but then he looked at you.

With the prettiest smile and most bright eyes he'd ever seen, you nodded. "I'd love to."

Seems like his plan did work after all.

A little off, but still, it worked.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #astv #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel o' hara #miguel o #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #alchemax scientist miguel o'hara #alchemax

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goldeunoias · 8 months

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A/N: Daisy's descent into darkness <3. Let me know if you want more of these~ (not proofread sowwy)

Step-brother!Jake and his best friend Heeseung who always stand a bit too close to you when you're in the kitchen or walking past them in one of the hallways of your house.

Step-brother!Jake and his best friend Heeseung who leave lingering touches on your thighs and shoulders at the dinner table, your family smiling as they think you're so close. But you knew better

Step-brother! Jake and his best friend Heeseung "accidentally" walk into your room while you're changing when you're needed in the house, despite the fact that their eyes never look away from your partially naked form...

"Jake it's too big," you choked out as he held your arms above your head while your head rested in his lap. Heeseung only chuckled as he pushed your legs further apart, making your body feel like it was splitting in half as your walls melted around his cock.

"Aw, you think big bro's gonna help you?" Jake mocked as he held his grip even firmer when you tried to squirm away, your breathing heavy as Heeseung bottomed out into your core.

You didn't even know how you'd ended up like this. Your brother had called you into his room and before you knew it his lips were crashing onto yours while his best friend locked the door behind you, leaving you trapped in the lions' den.

"Shit~ pussy is at the max isn't it honey? Never taken someone as big as me?" Heeseung cooed in your face through pouted lips, shaking your head no as tears brimmed your eyes.

"Want Jakey to give you a kiss? It'll make you feel better promise," switching positions so he was lying on his side next to you, rolling a hardened bud between his fingers.

You shook your head and tried turning your body to the opposite side, Jake being quicker and grabbing your head and holding it still leaning it with a sinister side smile.

"It's okay to say you want it princess, no need to be so shy," he remarked as he leaned in and kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth. Your body shivered as you felt warm saliva from his mouth trickle onto your tongue, your legs shaking as Heesung started moving at a languid but intense base.

"I think princess likes it, she's clamping down on me so tightly" Heeseung groaned as he pressed his hand on your lower belly. You pushed Jake away and let out a shaky breath against his lips as you felt Heeseung's hand press down on where his member was pressing against your cervix, your head getting dizzy from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Now you're making me jealous," Jake purred, sitting up on his knees and pulling down his sweats. He was "kind" enough to give you a pillow to raise your head up some, your eyes crossing as he pressed the tip of his member against your saliva-coated lips.

"Be a good girl and open for me yeah?" Jake then grabbed the back of your head and leaned in, eyes hardening over while he gave you a sweet smile. "If you bite you'll be punished kitten, and I'd hate to have to punish my sweet baby sister mmkay?"

You gulped and nodded, hesitantly letting Jake drop your jaw down. Both Heeseung and Jake hissed as they felt the warmth of both of your entrances, Jake holding your head still as he fucked your mouth.

You instinctively moaned around him as you felt the heat and weight of his member, mind slowly going blank as you got used like a sex toy.

Jake could only smile as he yanked the back of your head off his member, painting your neck in a pearl necklace as he came through a shaky breath.

You could whimper through ragged breaths as you tried to normalize your heart rate, eyes fluttering for a moment as Heeseung raised your knees to your chest going even deeper than before.

Your hands feebly pressed against your chest and you looked to either of them with pleaded eyes, Jake nudging Heeseung to switch with him. You felt your legs shake helplessly around the new male's waist, barely able to process what was happening as Heeseung held your head up to his member.

"Suck."

You tried to open your mouth to fit some of his members as Jake pushed his way past your gummy walls, the new warmth inside you making your belly tingle.

"I think she's finally warming up to us, look at that, she's rutting her hips into me and she doesn't even realize it," Jake teased as he rubbed your essence-soaked slit, your body spasming for a second as you tried to handle the new sensation. Your movements only made Heeseung hold your jaw in place to keep you from moving, drool dripping from your mouth in clear droplets and mixing with the cum that dripped down your chest.

That night at dinner you'd barely be able to focus, trying your best to keep the cum that leaked out of you from soaking your underwear and the dining room seats.....

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen scenarios #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #jake smut #enhypen jake smut #jake hard thoughts

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mouse-wife · 4 months

Text

Sorry I’m late to the HL2VRAI stream everyone, very rude of me.

Oh my god it’s the wrong stream. Sorry about that everyone. Could you excuse me for a second? I need to figure out what’s going on.

What the heck?

It’s a Breaking Bad stream?

Yeah, the trailer and opening were a fake out. It’s a prank.

On me?

No, you know. It’s just a joke!

What’s the joke exactly?

What do you mean?

HLVRAI doesn't sound anything like that. So what's the joke? That I thought I would get to see Benry and Bubby and Sunkist again? Because that's pretty funny actually. It would be a great day for me if I got to watch a stream and think Benry is gonna show up.

That's not the joke. It was just like.. y'know... what if it was HL2VRAI?

I think we covered what would happen Wayne, I'd get to see my pretty little Benry.

Okay everyone, I think it's time to move on and watch the stream. The fake out thing was stupid. Wayne, you wanna get us up to speed on what's happening in Breaking Bad?

Can I just ask? What's next?

Sorry?

What's the next joke? Bubby movie trailer that's actually Better Call Saul? Portal but the AI but it's really The Sopranos?

Book of Benry reveal trailer so good it make me think I'm mighty sick. I'm rushed to the hospital and I'm there for hours and miss my Tommy Coolata rp meetup?

Nobody wants you to miss your Tommy RP meetup.

Then what's the joke? That while I'm on the operating table Benry is rushed in because he got in a plane crash and has a metal bolt through his head, but he bleeds out in the waiting room. Because the doctors are too busy trying to explain to me what a joke trailer is? Is that the joke? On the man's widow?

You got him Wayne. You reeeally got him.

THIS IS A BETRAYAL ON LEVELS THAT NO ONE'S EVER SEEN!

Permission to go home, lie down, and watch HLVRAI Commentary so my face isn't beet red for my Tommy Coolatta rp meetup?

Yes, yes.

#i could not write this to b as funny as i imagined it but i promise o tried #also took twice as long doing it through my laptop #marcy moment #hlvrai

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love-belle · 10 months

Text

my sunshine !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're the 'it' couple and everyone's obsessed with them, rightfully so.

for when you find your forever kinda person. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // lando norris x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - finally it's here!!! i really hope u like it!!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

edit - changed it bc the person who requested it doesn't speak hindi x

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, lilymhe and 799,416 others

yourusername 💐

tagged landonorris

7,728 comments

username i think i just died and went to heaven

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username MOTHER IS MOTHERING

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charles_leclerc lando has been staring at this for 20 minutes

-> landonorris CHARLES

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-> usernames honestly parents

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 872,915 others

landonorris something about taylor swift and saving me a seat at every table

tagged yourusername

8,528 comments

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danielricciardo highlight of the whole outing was watching you crash that golf cart and then cry about it

-> landonorris just because you can type out a comment doesn't mean you should

username I LOVE THEM HELP

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username i don't know who to be jealous of tbh

charles_leclerc you should never be near a golf cart ever again

-> landonorris IT WAS AN ACCIDENT OKAY????

-> username WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE GOLF CART I NEED TO KNOW

username they're so in love it makes me wanna throw up (in a good way)

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-> landonorris yes i am 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘😘😍😍😍😍😍

yourusername but they're all right, never drive a golf cart again

-> landonorris NOT YOU TOO

username lando malfunctioning everytime y/n LOOK at him despite being together for such a long time is so relatable of him like ACTUALLY

username god i am not ur strongest soldier 🫤

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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yourusername chellam ( sweetheart )

tagged landonorris

comments are disabled for this post

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landonorris 4ever and ever my girl. i love you.

tagged yourusername

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liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, landonorris and 89 others

yourusername a series of unfortunate events

tagged landonorris danielricciardo

7,928 comments

username I DIED OMG

carlossainz55 i feel bad for laughing

-> landonorris at least you feel bad, y/n just laughed for 10 mins and then made fun of me 💔💔💔

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-> carlossainz55 THE TONE CHANGE

username THE DOLL IM CRYING

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landonorris did you really have to do me dirty like that

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landonorris you promised you wouldn't laugh

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username Y/N TERRORIZING HER BF EVERY MOMENT OF THE DAY AND I EAT IT UP EVERYTIME

-> username that's what he gets for stealing my wife thank you very much

lewishamilton pity i missed seeing it in person

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danielricciardo is it safe to come out of my hidden place?

-> yourusername negative. lando is still out on a hunt for you.

-> danielricciardo does he still have the fork?

-> yourusername it's a rubber spatula now

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-> yourusername you're hardly secretive with the amount of noise you make every time you enter a room so !!

username they're so chaotic bruh i love her

username DANIEL'S FACE HELP IM CRYING

-> username it was at that moment he realised. he. fucked. up.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, carmenmmundt and 886,688 others

landonorris sadly only 3 out of 26281927 made it to the gram 💔

tagged yourusername

8,931 comments

username SHE'S SO

username IM IN LOVE

username jaw drops to floor eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets heart beats out of chest awooga awooga sound affect pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out slams fists on table rattling any plates bowls or silverware whistles loudly fireworks shoot from top of head pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth wipes comically large bead of sweat from head clears throat straightens tie combs hair ahem you look very lovely GRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF BARK BARK WOOF ARF ARF WOOF WOOF GRRR BARK GRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF BARK BARK WOOF ARF ARF WOOF WOOF GRRR BARK GRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF BARK BARK WOOF ARF ARF WOOF

-> yourusername babe are you okay?

-> username ahsjdjdkeksmssd;;;;72hsshskksk

username she's so 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

lilymhe girlfriend 💐🤍

-> landonorris right??? MY girlfriend

-> username lando forever getting defensive with lily around will never NOT be funny

-> username it's bc he knows that y/n and lily can and will absolutely wife eachother up

*liked by yourusername and lilymhe*

username IM ON MY KNEES GODDAMN

username HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE GOD'S FAVOURITE

-> username this is me yelling at lando btw

-> landonorris pretty good haha i know how lucky i am

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username SHE'S A REAL GODDESS LIKE WOAH

username lando better wife her up before i do (threatening)

*liked by landonorris*

username im SOOOOooooOOO normal about this

carmenmmundt i expect an email with those 26281927 photos

-> landonorris duly noted

username everyone being obsessed with y/n is so real of them actually

username lando norris i am under your bed.

username she's for the girls and the gays i don't make the rules.

username IM SO AHHASHSJDHSKSK

yourusername thank you for being my personal photographer ❤️

-> landonorris only for you ❤️

yourusername also thank you for choosing good photos of me 🫡

-> landonorris that's so not true because every single photo of yours is the BEST

-> username im blushing and he didn't even say it to ME

username god me when.

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yourusername just look at him if you have a vitamin d deficiency ☀️

tagged landonorris

8,732 comments

username HE'S SO SUNSHINE BOY

username STOP HE'S ADORABLE

username im love with both of them actually

username no bc he's her sunshine 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

carlossainz55 my eyes hurt from looking at this post for too long

-> yourusername they're being blessed so 😮‍💨

-> landonorris thank you baby 🥰

username lando always being 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘😘😘😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 with y/n is so

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lilymhe opened this app and saw this abomination what is this torture.

-> landonorris BLOCKED.

-> yourusername relax you both can be my side hoes 😘

-> lilymhe SIDE?

-> francisca.cgomes bebé ❤️

-> yourusername kika ❤️

-> landonorris that's a betrayal i did not see coming

-> lilymhe same omg

username HE'S SO GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIEND

username that's a look of pure joy like im smiling by just looking at these photos omg

landonorris my ❤️

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-> landonorris thank you ❤️

username THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR IM DONE

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#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagines #lando norris insta au #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb

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megalony · 3 months

Text

She's My Daughter

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine based on a few combined requests. I really had fun with this one and might do a few more parts if anyone would be up for it. Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts

911 Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is ready to introduce his family to his team, but introductions go a little wrong when his wife has a seizure and his daughter crashes into the station... quite literally.

Enjoy.

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

"Is that a thing… bringing families to the station?" Eddie looked around the table of familiar faces, gauging their reactions to see if this was a joke or if Hen was actually being serious.

Eddie had done a lot of different, odd jobs since coming out of the army and none of those jobs had felt so much like a family as this one. He had never been that close to the people he worked with. Becoming a fire fighter and working in the 118 made Eddie feel like he had a proper family, not like the loose, estranged one he had back in Texas. He felt like he had a father in Bobby, a brother in Evan and another sister in Hen.

He stabbed a bit of pasta on his fork and waved it around his plate before he looked over at Bobby for confirmation.

"Yeah, families are always welcome here. We throw parties, barbeques and cookouts and everyone is invited. Do you have people you'd like to bring round?" Bobby leaned back in his chair with a gracious smile.

He tried to let all of his team know that family always came first. They were all welcome to bring their families to look round the station, meet the team and get to know everyone. They were all a family here and therefore Bobby wanted it to feel homely and for everyone to get along and know each other.

A gentle smile formed on Eddie's lips as he set down his fork and interlaced his fingers together beneath his chin.

"I uh, I'd like my family to meet you all, if that's okay?"

He had been working here for over three months now, it felt the right time to introduce his family to his team. They protected him at work every day, they had a right to meet the people they helped send him home to after every shift.

"Bring them for dinner one day this week."

"So, who are we meeting? You said you have a few sisters, right?" Evan reached out and patted his hand against Eddie's shoulder with a grin that started to morph into a confused frown when Eddie shook his head.

"I was thinking more about my wife and kids."

"You have kids?" Hen smiled, but she couldn't keep the surprise from her voice or stop her brows from arching up. Eddie never said anything about a family. He talked to Evan and opened up to him more than the rest of them, but he hadn't mentioned a family. They only knew he was married because of the wedding ring on his finger and Eddie didn't even talk about his wife to them so nobody asked.

"I have two girls and a boy." Eddie's face lit up into a grin at the thought of the four people he had waiting at home for him.

"How old?"

Chimney thought Eddie seemed the fatherly type. Whenever they were out on a call and kids were around, Eddie could always take charge. He talked to them in that soft voice and bent down to their level and seemed to understand whatever they were talking about or going through. But Chimney wouldn't have guessed he had so many kids.

"Bella's fourteen, Chris is nine and Rosie is only four months, we had her just after we moved to LA."

It had been a hectic time to decide to move away from Texas, but it had been the right thing to do. Eddie had a turbulent relationship with his parents, his dad had never really been involved in his life and as much as he loved his mother, she was overbearing.

It was hard when Eddie first came out of the army and had his parents around almost every day, acting as if he couldn't look after his two kids. Eddie brought up his sisters when he was a teen, he had been the man of the house while his dad worked away. He didn't want his parents on his doorstep everyday and everyone hovering around his kids or telling him his job wasn't right for him.

As for (Y/n), her relationship with her own mother was strained and she had no contact with her dad, so moving was a fresh start for everyone.

Eddie did his training for the fire department back in Texas, found the 118 and got his application all sorted and agreed before they moved. Three days into living in their new house in LA, Rosie decided she wanted to be born three weeks early so Eddie couldn't start with the department for a few extra weeks.

Now they were all settled into their home, the kids were settled at school and everything seemed to be slotting into place.

It was time Eddie introduced them to his work family.

***

Sinking back on his heels, Eddie swiped his bare arm against his temple and did a quick sweep around the truck. He tapped his fingers against his thighs and shuffled to lean over the side of the truck. He had fixed the ladder back into place and given the fire truck a quick clean while Hen worked on restocking the equipment in both the truck and the ambulance.

"Heads up, someone's got a clipboard handy."

Eddie pointed towards the stairs and gave Hen a certain, knowing look because he knew what was going to happen. She was going to argue with Evan because he was on one of his checklist rants. He was a menace with a clipboard and Hen lost her patience with him nine times out of ten.

He grinned at the way Hen sighed and planted her hands on her hips and silently shook his head with a raised brow.

Turning around, Eddie pushed up to his feet and slowly headed to the end of the truck towards the mini ladder to get back down.

"Excuse me… stop… stop!"

Eddie tilted his head up and glanced around, trying to locate Bobby when he heard his rather panicked voice. His eyes narrowed and his hands planted down on his hips as he stayed on top of the truck as his eyes landed on his captain.

Bobby was stood to the front of the station near the open shutters, holding both his hands out in front of him towards a car.

The car was juttering back and forth and whoever was driving had their foot on the gas pedal, reving the engine as if wanting to make an entrance and gain everybody's attention. But they weren't slowing down. The car jolted backwards, then surged forwards and sped through the shutters. No one was supposed to drive into the station. There was a car park round the back for staff when they arrived and a small car park at the front for any visitors or emergencies.

What on Earth was the driver doing?

Panic shot through Eddie's chest and his complexion paled when he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at the number plate.

Oh God.

That was (Y/n)'s car.

"Fuck!" Eddie turned on his heels and clambered to the end of the truck, grabbing the handles of the ladder so he could slide down and jump down to his feet. His boots thudded against the floor and his knees jerked from the impact but he paid it no mind. "That's my wife's car!"

His feet moved faster than his mind could comprehend and he sped past Hen who followed hot on his heels. He weaved past the ambulance and moved towards Bobby who was stood in the middle of the station floor, his arms still out in front of him to try and stop the car from crashing into any equipment or the ambulance.

"Christ- (Y/n) stop the car!" What the Hell was she doing? Eddie tangled one hand in his hair as he held his breath. His wife wasn't a bad driver. She was quite a good driver considering she hadn't been driving for very long. She knew what she was doing and she knew not to drive into the middle of the station like this. She must be having some kind of emergency to be doing this.

Eddie's hand fell from his hair and he surged forward when the car juttered again and almost hit Bobby. And when Evan ran into the situation, he planted his hands down on the bonnet and hit it a few times to try and get her attention and make her stop.

A sudden burst of anger radiated through Eddie when he leaned down to look through the window. That wasn't his wife.

He got close enough to grab the handle and wrenched the door open, letting it swing far and wide before he leaned down and pushed into the car. His knees hit the chair and his shoulders pinned up against the roof as he leaned in the middle and yanked on the hand break to stop the car rolling backwards or surging forwards and running over his colleagues.

As quick as anything, Eddie unclipped the seatbelt before he wrapped his hand tightly around her arm and pulled back, yanking her out of the car with him.

"Isabella Diaz! What the Hell are you doing?!"

Eddie took a few steps back and pulled his eldest child along with him. His chest heaved and his lungs burned as he tried to take proper breaths but it felt like he was being suffocated.

His hands moved out to cup Bella's face and he tilted her head up so they were level and he could look her over. His eyes swept up and down her frame, looking for injuries or any signs of a problem or an issue. But all Eddie could see was her face turning a dark shade of red, her eyes puffing up and tears drenching down her face.

"That's uh… that's your wife?" Evan clamped his hands down on his hips but he frowned when Bobby hit him in the shoulder as a silent bid to tell him to be quiet. But Eddie was the one who said it was his wife's car coming into the station.

If that was his wife, then there were a few problems around here.

"Dad!" Bella moved her hands up to cup Eddie's wrists and took a second to try and catch her breath.

She had done it. She had gotten the car down to the station- the right station, where her dad would be. She had gotten them here in one piece and now she could get them to help her mum.

Fury bubbled up in Eddie's eyes when he looked over at Evan. He was starting to think of Evan as one of his closest friends. But he didn't think Evan would actually believe that this was his wife. As if he thought Eddie was some kind of weirdo who would go round marrying someone over half his age? What did he take him for?

"She's my daughter." He snapped back, somewhat rudely before his attention turned back to Bella and he started to smooth his thumbs beneath her eyes. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, silently telling her to talk to him and explain.

"Mum- mum's had a seizure," Bella pulled on Eddie's hand and pointed into the car.

She watched the way his shoulders slumped and his face fell completely and his jaw slacked but he couldn't fathom what to say.

His hands left her face and he turned around and propelled himself around the car. His hand scraped against the bonnet to help guide him round and stop him from skidding as he nudged past Evan to get to the passenger side. He opened the door and crouched down beside the chair to look over his wife.

"Can someone get the kids out please?" Eddie's lips pursed when he glanced in the back and felt his heart dropping down to his stomach.

Chris and Rosie were in the back.

Bella had driven all the way here with the kids in the back and (Y/n) mostly unconscious in the front seat. She could have gotten them all killed. She didn't have a licence and she didn't know how to drive. Bella shouldn't have been on the road and if her parking in the station was anything to go by, she would have been a menace on the roads.

Hen mumbled a quiet 'Hi cutie' as she unclipped Rosie from her carrier and gently picked her up, shushing her when she began to scream her little head off. And Evan moved round behind Eddie and grinned down at Chris who had a teddy pinned to his chest and was rocking back and forth in a mixture of stimming and panic. He picked him up when Chris didn't object and moved to stand over beside Hen while Bobby moved to kneel behind Eddie.

"Baby… baby, you with me?" Pushing up, Eddie moved his hands to cup (Y/n)'s face and gently tilt her head from where it was slumped against the door frame and the seatbelt.

He pushed his thumbs against her cheekbones to try and stimulate her before he moved his hand round and pressed his fingers against her neck to check her pulse.

A light tremble was rattling through (Y/n)'s body that was pushing back into the seat and Eddie could see a trail of blood trickling down her lower lip towards her chin. She had bitten her lip or her tongue during the seizure enough to make it bleed.

Her eyes were closed and when Eddie pulled up her eyelid to try and check her pupils, he growled. Her eyes were rolled to the top of her head.

"I take it this is your wife? Is she epileptic?" Bobby rested one arm on the roof of the car and leaned in to try and take a look at (Y/n).

They were supposed to meet Eddie's family in three days, he was going to bring them down to the station for dinner so they could all be introduced and get to know each other. This was not the way Eddie wanted them all to meet and this wasn't the kind of situation he wanted his kids to be involved in. His daughter had been panicked enough to try and drive the car down here to get help.

"She was diagnosed four years ago, but she hasn't had a seizure in months. She has absent ones, not like this." The last seizure Eddie could remember (Y/n) having was when she was pregnant with Rosie and that had been a small one while they were at home in the evening. She hadn't suffered with them for a long while.

When she first got diagnosed, (Y/n) was having two or three absent seizures a week and the odd tonic seizure where she tensed up and jerked around. She had been put onto meds to stop them and her meds had been reduced last year because she was doing so well not having any.

"Alright baby, let's get you out." With one arm around her back, Eddie unclipped her belt and slipped his other hand beneath her knees.

He pulled back and shuffled (Y/n) into his arms, letting her head loll on his shoulder with Bobby's hands on her neck to try and keep her steady and stop any damage from happening. Eddie stood up and took a few quick steps away from the car and over near the ambulance before he went down on his knees and eased (Y/n) down to the floor.

He laid her down and knelt down behind her, resting her head and shoulders over his lap before he started to run his hands up and down her arms to try and stimulate her and bring her back around.

"I'll take the kids up to the kitchen, come on." Evan gently eased Rosie from Hen and into his own arms and moved his free hand against Chris's back. Gently urging him to walk with him. He would get Chris a drink in the kitchen and settle him in front of the tv to try and calm him down and let him know that everything was alright now.

"Is mum okay?"

Before she could stop herself, Bella curled her hand around Hen's upper arm and stood close to her side with her left arm wrapped tightly around her middle to try and calm herself down and make herself breathe better. She leaned her head on Hen's shoulder, unable to stop the tears from falling again.

She had done well not to cry or burst into sobs while she was driving down here. Bella had told herself to be stern and calm so she didn't crash and hurt her whole family. It had worked. But now she was here, safely where she wanted to be, she could feel herself starting to shake and her chest was tightening up.

"Amor what happened?" Eddie lifted his head to look over at his daughter who took a few daring steps forward with Hen who was comfortingly holding her wrist and smiling at her. "Why did you drive here? You could have called 911." He couldn't see why Bella would take the risk of driving down here instead of calling for an ambulance.

She could have asked them to inform Eddie of the situation or call him once she'd called for help. It seemed drastic for her to pack everyone into the car and drive down here when she didn't know how to drive and Bella had been adamant she never wanted to learn to drive. She thought it was too scary.

"We were driving and mum felt sick, s-she pulled over but when she got out… she collapsed on the pavement. She had a seizure and I panicked… I p- I got her in the car, we were only f-five minutes away so… so I drove."

Tears drenched Bella's face as she tucked herself more into Hen's side and coiled both her arms around her chest, swaying back and forth.

She didn't know what to do.

One moment, (Y/n) pulled over and got out the car saying she was going to be sick, but the next thing Bella knew, her mum was on the floor having a seizure. And not the kind of seizure she usually had. She was flailing about, jerking, hardly breathing and biting her lip so hard she was froffing blood. When it stopped, (Y/n) wasn't talking and she was barely moving.

Bella didn't want to call an ambulance and leave the car on the side of the road and have to get Chris and Rosie rammed into the back of a crowded ambulance. She knew her dad was only five minutes down the road and it seemed like an easy task to drive straight down the road and turn a corner and reach the station.

And it was an emergency. If someone pulled her over, she would still get help either way.

So she managed to hoist her mum up and help her flop into the car and she did her best to drive down here while her mum had another seizure on the way.

All she wanted was Eddie.

"Cap…" Hen looked between Bobby and Bella until he got the silent message and nodded. They needed to switch places so Hen could help Eddie get (Y/n) stabalised and sorted out and someone needed to stay with Bella and calm her down.

Hen gently eased herself from Bella's side when Bobby walked over and curled his arm around her shoulder to try and give her some comfort. But just as Hen reached into the ambulance and grabbed her medic bag, she froze when Bella cried out and a few Spanish profanities slipped past Eddie's lips.

Eddie's hands moved to hold (Y/n)'s shoulders and he shuffled back before he tried to turn her over. He eased her onto her left side and knelt behind her with one hand cupping the back of her neck and his other hand lightly rubbing up and down her arm. She was going into another seizure. He kept her head tilted forward, Eddie didn't want to risk (Y/n) biting down again and choking on her tongue or on the blood welling up in her mouth.

"Alright, I've got you baby, it's okay." Eddie pressed his knees into her back to keep her kept on her side while Hen knelt down in front of her with her medic bag at her side.

While Hem rummaged around for some meds in the bag, Eddie swiped the stethoscope which he tucked into his ears and carefully pressed down between (Y/n)'s shoulders to listen to her breathing. He then curled his chest over her arm and pressed it beneath her shirt to listen to her heartbeat.

"Breathing's good, heart sounds fine."

"Pushing diazepam,"

Eddie gripped (Y/n)'s upper arm and tried to hold her trembling limb steady so Hen could inject the diazepam into her shoulder. It was the safest palce to administer meds when the rest of her body was violently jerking back and forth. And (Y/n) was already bleeding from the mouth, they couldn't administer any emergency tablets under her tongue right now. This was the next best option to try and stop the seizure and spasms.

"Dad…" Bella tried to run forward but Bobby reacted faster. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, almost lifting her from her feet to stop her from reaching her parents. It wasn't safe for her to try and get involved. (Y/n) was being looked after.

Eddie lifted his head and tightened his hands over (Y/n)'s arm and neck when his eyes locked with his daughter who was almost the double of his wife.

"Carino stay with Bobby. It's okay." Eddie nodded his head until Bella stopped writhing in Bobby's hold and settled down. He didn't want her getting distressed either or trying to bustle over here. She needed to stay there, safe and out the way.

"It's working, she's calming down." Hen found a saline bag and the necessary needles in the medic bag and placed them by her thigh, ready to give to (Y/n) when the spasms fully wore off. The last thing she needed was to try and push an IV into (Y/n)'s hand and have her go back into another seizure and rupture a vein.

"She's gonna be sick."

Eddie reached his arm out and pressed his hand into Hen's shoulder, trying to nudge her to the right to get her out the way.

He moved his hands back to (Y/n) and tilted her chin down, keeping his fingers curled around her neck to keep her head down so she didn't choke. While he brushed her hair behind her ear and reached down to cup her wrist and pull her hand back.

He could see the way her stomach was tensing and sucking inwards and her chest was pushing forward instead of convulsing.

"Let it out, baby. Good girl," He leaned over to kiss her shoulder and slipped his hand from her wrist to grip her hand. Both he and Hen watched her chest closely and made sure she was still breathing and not choking.

A wave of relief tremored through Eddie when he felt (Y/n)'s fingers twitch against his hand and her arm suddenly jerked out. She coiled her arm to her chest, pulling Eddie's arm along with her which made his chest press down into her shoulder so he could curve around her.

Her knees tensed and kicked back and forth in an attempt to try and bring her knees up to her stomach. A burning gasp mixed with a cry vibrated past (Y/n)'s lips and her temple bashed into the floor when she tried to turn her head and press her face down into the floor.

With a deep breath, Eddie inched himself backwards and gently scuffed (Y/n) along with him to get her away from the puddle of sick. He let go of her hand and moved his arm around her waist and with his other hand against the back of her head, Eddie gently lifted her up. He reeled her up and let her flop back into his chest with a thump. Her head lolled into the crook of his neck and her temple pressed into his chin with a groan.

While she started to take deep breaths and murmur incoherent noises against Eddie's neck, Hen reached out and pulled her hand onto her thigh. She quickly slipped the needle into her vein and capped the IV in, keeping the tube wide open to let as much saline flow through her veins as possible. The seizures would have taken a toll on (Y/n) and they needed to boost her levels back up and get her back to normal again.

"It's alright baby… are you back with me now, hm?" Eddie kissed her temple and kept one hand pressing down on her stomach while the other hand feathered up and down her arm.

(Y/n) turned her head from left to right, wincing and whining when Hen pulled her eyelid up and flashed a light across her pupils. At least her eyes were now back down and looking ahead instead of rolled up to the back of her skull.

"Eddie,"

A spasm rolled through (Y/n) and sent her right side jerking out with her foot scraping the floor, her leg jostling from side to side and her right arm bashed down into her chest making her cry out. It was like the last waves of electricity were rolling through her on their way out of her system.

She could feel sparks flying down to her toes and her fingertips had gone stiff like they were turning to stone.

The feeling of Eddie's lips pressing into the side of her head was comforting and his hands were squeezing her skin with his arms wrapped around her like a security blanket. But (Y/n) couldn't work out why Eddie was holding her. Why was he here? When did he get here? What were they doing?

"Yeah, it's me baby."

"Home?"

"Home? No, you're not going home mi amor." Eddie sighed into her hair and smothered the top of her head with his lips as he tightened his arms around her waist.

There was no way he was taking her back home. He had to take her down to the hospital along with the kids to get her checked out before he even thought about taking her home.

"Home… you- you're home," (Y/n) tried to keep her eyes open but everything was so bright she wished the world would shut down and turn pitch black. Her face pressed as deeply into Eddie's neck as she could until she was almost smothering herself and she could feel very bob of his Adam's apple and each harsh breath he took.

"You're not at home, baby… you're at the station. You were driving, you and the kids, in the car…?" Eddie wasn't used to (Y/n) being this confused after a seizure. But then again, she'd had about three of them in the last hour from what Bella had told them. She was bound to be confused and agitated and scared.

He could feel (Y/n) shaking her head into his neck, she didn't believe or understand what he was telling her and he knew it was pointless to try and talk her through it now.

(Y/n) could barely see a thing when she managed to keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds. She tightened her right hand around Eddie's palm but when she moved her left hand to try and reach up to hold onto him, something caught her eye. Her blurred vision tried to focus on her hand and her lips curled into a frown when she noticed a pastel white and leaf green plastic cap in the back of her hand, connected to a thin tube.

Whatever that was, (Y/n) didn't want it.

Her hand let go of Eddie's palm and before he could ask what she was doing, (Y/n) huffed and scratched off the cap in her hand.

"Oow," Tears stung in the corners of her eyes and she whimpered when her left hand started to spasm and a trickle of blood started oozing down and slithering between her fingers.

"Baby!" Eddie scolded through clenched teeth. "No- no, stop. Baby let me fix it, okay?"

Eddie perched his chin on (Y/n)'s right shoulder and wrapped his right arm around her chest, pinning her arm between them so she couldn't fight him or try and stop him from patching up her hand. He held her left wrist in both hands and pushed his chin down into her shoulder both to comfort her and make her stop wriggling.

He held her hand out towards Hen who was quick to run a swab over her hand to clean the blood before she carefully pushed the needle back into her hand and connected the tube back up.

"Bandage it please." Eddie whispered quietly, relieved when Hen smiled and grabbed a small roll of bandage.

Eddie had had this fight hundreds of times when (Y/n) was admitted to the hospital. Especially after she gave birth. She never wanted the canula in and always tried to take it out until Eddie bandaged her hand up so she couldn't see or touch it.

"Mum?" Bella pushed forward when Bobby let her out of his hold and allowed her to rush over and kneel down beside Hen.

She reached her hands out and wrapped her arms around both her mum and her dad, wedging (Y/n) between them in a hug. She tucked her face into (Y/n)'s neck, unable to stop crying when she felt her mum kiss her temple and try to hold her hand.

"Bella, wait here for a minute please while I move your mum." Eddie curled his fingers in the back of her hair and kissed her temple before he motioned for her to shuffle back a bit. He slipped his arms back around (Y/n)'s back and beneath her knees to pick her back up, relieved that she could seemingly move again. She hooked an arm around his neck and closed her eyes, tucking her face into his chest as he aimed for the ambulance.

Eddie knew the moment (Y/n) woke up properly and became aware of where she was and what was happening, she would kick off. She didn't like hospitals and she wouldn't want to be in an ambulance, but he had to get her to hospital. And he wanted to at least lay her on the gurney so she could start to come back round properly.

"I'll be two minutes, baby, I'm just gonna get the kids. This is Hen, she'll wait with you."

Once (Y/n) was laid on the gurney, Eddie kissed her temple and brushed his thumb over her cheek. He had a feeling she would pass out and have a nap, she didn't look like she could stay awake for much longer and he wouldn't blame her. It would be easier to transport her if she went to sleep for a while.

He patted Hen's shoulder, whispering a quiet 'thank you' in her ear before he climbed down and moved over towards Bella who was stood off to the side. both arms cocooned around her chest that was trembling and tears were flushed down her face.

The moment he was within reach, Bella tangled her arms around his torso and buried herself into his chest. He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt and each quiet sniffle she let out as she trembled so much she made Eddie start to shake back and forth. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tangled his other hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head while he leaned down to kiss her temple.

"Shh, it's alright carino."

"I- I'm sorry… I'm sorry daddy-"

"It's okay." Pulling back, Eddie moved his hands to cup her face so he could tilt her head up while his thumbs swiped away the tears tracing down her face. "I'm not mad, I swear."

"But… but the car…"

"I don't want you driving the car again, I mean it. But I'm not mad, you panicked and you came straight here, you got help. But next time, you don't try and drive the car with the kids in the back. You call an ambulance and then call me and I'll always come get you. Okay?"

There was no way that Eddie could be mad at her. She had been in a stressful situation and in her panic, she made a decision. It might not have been the right decision in the long run, but she had gone along with it and got everyone here in one piece. She brought (Y/n) somewhere safe and got her help and everyone was okay which was the main thing.

But if something like this ever happened again, Eddie needed Bella to call for help rather than take it into her own hands to find help herself.

She could have gotten herself into serious trouble if someone reported her or witnessed her or if she crashed. She could have made everything worse if she crashed the car with her unconscious mum and younger siblings in the car with her.

Eddie was going to be having nightmares about this for weeks, he could feel it.

"Okay," Bella nodded frantically before she pushed forward and tucked herself back into Eddie's chest, binding them both together like she was never going to let him go. Her arms stayed tightly bound to him until he held her shoulders and gently nudged her back so he could turn towards Evan who was walking their way with Rosie in his arms and Chris by his side.

"Everyone okay now?"

Eddie sighed through a smile and nodded his head, leaning forward to kiss Rosie's forehead before he reached over for Chris and picked him up. He kissed Chris's cheek and sat him on his hip although he could still feel Bella stood close to his side with her hands wrapped around his arm.

"Mummy okay?"

"She's fine, buddy. We're gonna take her down to the hospital though to get checked over, okay?" Eddie leaned back and took a glance over his shoulder towards the ambulance. He could guess that since (Y/n) wasn't arguing or shouting or crying out for him that she had indeed fallen asleep.

He could get Bella to ride in the ambulance with (Y/n) and the team while he took Chris and Rosie in (Y/n)'s car and followed behind them.

"Bell went through a red light," Chris leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder and grinned when Bella reached her hand out and lightly tapped his arm before she pressed her finger to her lips.

Her head tilted down and her eyes stayed on the floor when she felt her dad's piercing gaze fall on her and she could feel his elbow jutting into her side when he clamped his free hand down on his hip.

"Did she now?"

Lifting her gaze, Bella tried to smile but when she looked across at Evan, he was grinning at her and silently gave her a thumbs up with his hand hidden at his side so Eddie wouldn't see. "You said you're not mad at me," She whispered sheepishly, to which Eddie hummed with pursed lips.

He couldn't tell her off when he'd already explained he wasn't ngry and he knew she had acted out of panic. He just had to pray that within the next week, he wouldn't get any phone calls or letters to the house saying he had a traffic ticket for going through a red light or being caught speeding.

The only upside was that if that happened, Eddie could have a word with Bobby. He knew his captain would gladly talk to Athena and anyone else at the station to explain what had happened. They couldn't exactly charge Bella with anything when it was an emergency situation and she had done the right thing.

But Eddie's brows narrowed his chest tightened when he felt Chris lean up and whisper in his ear, "Bell hit a lamp post too."

"Isabella!"

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #bobby nash

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the-oblivious-writer · 28 days

Text

Let The Light |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' The Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her.

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears.

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch.

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue.

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?”

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone.

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch.

“Of course. Call me?”

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone.

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars.

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name.

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now. You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn.

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon?

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of three years, three years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues.

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.”

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you.

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.”

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you.

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters.

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her.

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look.

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake.

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you and her were in her bedroom after the incident at the halloween party. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth.

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time.

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce.

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought.

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself.

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied.

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second.

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?”

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking.

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her.

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still doing those,” you told her with a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness.

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again.

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie.

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud.

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?”

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming.

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl.

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.”

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon.

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this.

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter.

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone.

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm.

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso.

“Okay, come on.”

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down.

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning.

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.”

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped.

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?”

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two.

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you.

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!” Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said.

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?”

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.”

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her.

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say.

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.”

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky.

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself.

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?”

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded.

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone.

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet.

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something!

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face.

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words. It suddenly became awkwardly quiet.

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening.

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested.

“I don’t have to look to know. We dated for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out.

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion.

The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal.

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?”

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect.

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.”

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now.

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions.

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her.

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out.

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin.

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun.

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice.

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?”

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change.

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

#let the light in au #tara carpenter #tara x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter scream #tara carpenter x fem!reader #scream x you #scream x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #scream fanfic

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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

Text

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

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undercoverpena · 5 months

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x. make me yours

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter ten of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings/love confessions. smut - p in v, mirror sex, praise (for both) worshipping frankie's cock. happy ending in more than one way.

word count: 4.6k

an: thanks to @thetriumphantpanda for being here every step of the way, holding my hand. to @secretelephanttattoo for the comfort over the last week since i finished and to you, amazing readers, for putting trust in me once again that i could write something. i was so nervous after late night texts i'd never deliver a thing you'd all love, but here we are. thank you.

There’s a calmness to an early morning—especially one where you feel his legs tangled with yours.

Your room splayed in the glow of a new day, it fluttering through the slit of the closed curtains. Just enough for you to know it’s morning, but not enough to convince you that you need to rise.

Especially when he’s beside you.

From the steady, faint way the tips of his fingers seem to trace up and down your arm, you can tell he’s been awake for a while. The world around all so silent, just his breath and yours—the soft thudding of heartbeats and the occasional moving of limbs brushing against your sheets.

It’s enough to soothe you back to slumber, faintly hearing him whisper I’ll be right back, just awake enough to mumble an okay as the mattress dips and your cocoon of warmth begins to cool without him.

All of it perfect, almost picturesque—doing all you cannot to ruin your own delusion or fantasy with thinking about last night.

When you finally move from your sheets, you listen for him. The heavier footsteps, the way he occasionally bumps into the corner of your counter—a thing he’s done ever since you moved here.

But, there’s none.

Not even as you layer on a jumper, or pull on some socks from your bedside drawer—nothing flooding the silence except the water down the drain as you brush your teeth, as you make eyes at the bleary eyes coming back to you in the mirror.

It’s only when you leave the haven of your room, do you see him walking back in through your front door, his keys joining yours in the bowl on your side table—jacket hung beside the other, hat thrown onto the sofa.

And it makes your heart squeeze, makes your chest tighten for a moment. Because this is what you want. This. Him. His things being all messily arranged around yours, your things moving for him. A morning like this, down to the sheepish smile he gives you.

Lifting the paper bag, he begins to grin—all soft, gentle—lines beginning to appear near his eyes as he does. “I got us breakfast.”

Biting your smile, you nod, moving from the doorway to the kitchen—helping. It being all you can focus on, breaking the things down into small tasks, because it’s that or fall apart. It’s that or spill to him a mess of words you’d rehearsed for last night.

Swallowing them, the two of you move instead. All in a fluid motion, grabbing plates, a mug for him and a glass for you. The scrunching of the paper bag is all that can be heard, not the clatter of your hand against the plate as it shakes or the way you keep swallowing back a lump. One which sounds awfully like I don’t want to lose you.

He must know—be able to tell. Always able to read you like you’re the most obvious flight plan laid out for him. Because he nudges you, just ever so slightly:

“We’re okay, alright?”

You’re not sure if it’s the years of being let down by others or the sheer weight of your feelings for him, or the odd combination of both, but it crashes together inside of you, dissolving the lump, making fresh tears rise to your eyes. One falling, unable to cling itself to your lashes—unable to hide it, disguise it, not quick enough in turning before he’s already seen it.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he whispers, all soothingly.

It’s similar in tone to the one he used in the Heli that one time. Close in relation to the voice he used sometimes when he had his hand between your thighs, pleading with you to give him another, because you can do it, hermosa, you can.

Covering your face with your hands, you bite down on your cheek—the tide of pain enough to halt the fallout of tears. The pitter-patter on your cheeks, fingers sliding them down, smoothing them out over your skin as you take a breath, remove your palms, lashes lifting.

His brows are pinched together, one thick line, surrounded by a few others—eyes wide, all brown, glistening in worry and concern.

“I don’t want breakfast.”

Blinking, his eyes move around the room, before landing back on you. “O-okay, that’s—that’s okay—”

“I want you.”

It isn’t anything you like you rehearsed.

Nothing close to the script practised in mirrors and as you chopped, prepared and cooked the dish last night. It’s more an array of balled-up words which hastily leave your lips—chest rising and falling, a pang in your chest.

“I want you—and admittedly I do actually really, really want breakfast. But I want… this, the whole thing, not just the food, the act. I want the morning we began having—I…”

Your voice trails off. Keenly aware that your body has begun to tremble, the enormity of it all rising inside of you like a snake—slithering, clotting, making it hard to breathe without focusing in on it coming up your throat.

“I’m not—this isn’t making much sense. I want mornings like this. I know you saw what I did—and I don’t know if you cleaned it up because you don’t feel the same and that’s your wonderful, gentle way of telling me. And, I’m not sure if you came to fetch me out of some guilt, just like I’m not even sure if you lay with me because you wanted to make sure I wasn’t sad…

“But, Frankie, I like you. I like the way you make me feel lighter and happier, that you don’t even pretend to have all the right words. I like that you show up, that you make me feel…”

His head tilts, eyes fixed on you—unwilling to move.

Captivated. Enchanted.

It makes your skin warm and the nerves seem to settle as you take a settling breath.

Swallowing, you smile. “I like the way you make me smile. That you make me feel good, incredible even. I like you, Frankie. You.”

You watch him roll his lips, gentle movements, brain likely whirring a mile a minute under his curls. Ones you want to run your fingers through—soothe him, comfort him.

But you remain where you’re stood. Feet planted, unwilling to move closer. Not prepared to bend and curl into him, even if everything in you is screaming too.

The fear of him rejecting you keeps you still, braced—waiting and watching, studying each micro-inflexion for an insight into whether sun or rain is going to come and land on your parade.

Then, he whispers your name.

It sounds so jagged—sharp in places it is usually soft. It hits your ears wrong, not matching the look on his face, as a hand reaches inside of your chest and squeezes, while other parts of your crumble.

“Do you… not want to be with me?”

You shouldn’t ask, but you have. It's more pitiful when you replay it back, worsened by the look he gives you. It’s one you assume he’d wear if you’d slapped him. Half-wounded, half-irritated. As though what you had just proposed was the most stupid thing you could ever say.

“Fuck, no. I just—”

“Just, what?”

His jaw slides from side to side, fingers picking at the bread he’d just gone out to fetch. “I just think…

“Think what?”

“That you deserve better, alright?”

Your face falls.

Inch by inch of it shifting, feeling it do so—as though a mist has washed down over you, clinging to your features, dragging them down. From your eyebrows to your upturned lips.

Slowly, you press your spine into the back of your kitchen counter, hand resting on the top of it, not moving, not circling the pattern or tapping against the side.

“Frankie…”

“No, listen. You deserve someone who has their shit together, someone who can take you out—spoil you—give you the life you want. I… I can’t do that. But someone else, someone like—“

“Like Will?”

His chin lifts, his eyes landing on you. Fear and panic eroding away the earlier irritation.

You’re breathing heavily, seething and panting. Adrenaline darts through you, making your back straighten and your fingers want to close into fists.

“Yeah, I know. Surprise, surprise, you don’t need to be military-trained to know that you’re being a dick to him because you’ve created a narrative in your head. Which, by the way, is all that is, because I don’t like Will like that. Never have. He’s… he’s not my type for one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I like you.” You chew your cheek, staring at him, sighing. “Frankie, I don’t deserve better.” Trying to blink away tears that begin to spring, feeling them practically stinging. “What is even better than you?”

He shoots you a look, lips rolling, before he pushes a heavy breath out through his nose.

You don’t care if it’s childish, you fold your arms. Anger suddenly crawls up your throat, wanting to throw whatever you can at him.

Narrowing your eyes, you drop your voice, “So, what? You’re good enough to be my best friend, to have a key to my house, to sleep with me—fucking regularly, by the way—but not to put a different label on it?”

He says your name, soft, barely in a breath. Eyes all dark, swarming with things you can’t begin to work out.

And it rises in you again. The feeling from last night.

The matted mess of emotions that rumbled out of you in floods of tears as your glare intensifies, your heart aching as you dig your stare into him with all you have.

“No, Frankie. No. You know I like you. I always have. It’s… it’s always been you. And, I think you know that, just like we both know this hasn’t just been fucking.” Straightening your spine, you take a more measured breath. “So, if you don’t feel the same, that’s fine—but I’d like you to go.”

The latter comes out more shaky—a crack in your resolve. Each syllable all practically broken by the time it hits the air, eyes unwavering in their stare at him, watching, studying. Easily able to spot the slight shift of his jaw, the tick of it to the side, and the way his throat bobs as he contemplates it—whatever he's fighting inside his head.

Then, he takes your hand and moves it from being around your other bicep, unfolding your crossed arms.

It’s simple to take your hand. Easy. A gesture he hopes says more than it does.

From your glare, he’s not sure it does.

So, he takes a moment. Weigh it up, tries to align up the words which will make the most sense, and have the most impact. Holding your fingers in his. Allowing himself to feel the little bones that make it up, the knuckles and the way your hand just instantly fits inside his own.

If anything, it’s only more evidence of how long this has been in front of his face. A thing he now can’t unsee or unnotice. Because with you it’s never forced, not the way he feels or the way you fit. A place there for you, growing as he did, especially made for you inside of him.

He beats for you.

A realisation he really only accepted last night when he stood in your home—the one littered with the little quirks he’s been around to witness take shape. Like your obsessions with fake hanging plants, because you can’t keep real ones alive; that you like black and white images over colour, because it doesn’t matter what colour the room is.

“I think…”

Your brows rise, pulling your eyes with it—making them wider, more like pools. There’s hesitance embroiled in the rest of you, appearing so close to unravelling that it hurts his heart.

But it’s your eyes he focuses on. He’s always found them beautiful, and expressive—a thing he could happily dive into and contently live inside of if allowed.

“I think we make new rules?”

His grip tightens on your hand, and he feels your fingers slide with ease between his. Letting yourself soften to him, come to him—like you always do.

It would be easy for someone else to admit it all, to tell you that he wants you, likes you, practically fucking needs you. That you’re important, the most important thing, if anything—that he couldn’t leave you, not ever.

It had already pricked at him before the of you began all of this. When the two of you were nothing more than just best friends. It being there, ready to pierce him when he leaves for work, when he says goodbye; when he’s in a different city reading your text messages.

The idea of leaving, leaving, would kill him. Would be worse than a bullet ripping through flesh or a knife plunging into muscle. It would ruin him, end him.

Because you’re the light that leads him back. The hands that somehow find all the pieces of him that have shifted from their places, able to solve him, complete the puzzle. You see him, bloom inside of him, force away the darkness and add little beams of sunshine when it had only ever been shadows.

“We can’t see other people—”

“Frankie—I already know this.”

He gives you a look, a pointed one. A give me a second kind of look, and you relent, mouth clamping shut, eyes narrowing a touch.

Tracing his tongue over his bottom lip. “And, one of the nights I’m back—we go out. Whether it’s for a drive, for dinner, for a movie, something—anything. I… I wanna take you out.”

Your face flickers, attempting to shift. “Okay… I think I can do that...”

Taking a half-step closer, he watches your other hand fall to your side, allowing him to slide his hand over your hip. “And, I want you to cook for me. Baby, I miss your cooking so fucking much. I miss the little smile you do when you see me take a second bite—I… I miss it.”

“You gonna turn up for it?”

Smirking, he pinches your side. “I deserved that.”

Nodding, you smirk, and he takes the opportunity to look at you—really look. The shine in your eyes having returned, the slight upturn of your lips.

Seemingly, and obviously, coming to the conclusion he’s offering—and he’s sure if he could tell you what he thinks, what he said to Will, it would shift into a grin.

Holding your hip, he takes another half-step, the gap gone, faded, vanished. “And, I’m going to buy you wine—because… well, hand it to you, I never actually stopped.”

“Wait. What? What do you mean?”

Letting his hand release yours, Frankie instead cups your cheek, thumb stroking against it in a soft line. “Couldn’t help it. Each time I went to the store, I ended up buying it anyway. I have been for months, since we first began our arrangement. It’s just…. stored away. My cupboards are full of it, my truck even—it felt wrong not to buy it for you.”

Glancing down at you, he quickly spots how your eyes have begun to fill, water filling at the bottom that he already feels is different from the way they had done earlier. The sun catching them, twinkling, practically shimmering with something he hopes is joy.

It’s why he reaches his finger to brush out over the corner of your growing smile, feeling it, basking in it.

Clearing your throat, you bite your lip before saying, “Can I stay at yours—'cause your bed is so much nicer than mine.”

Laughing, he feels a grin explode across his face. “Can stay over at mine whenever baby.”

“Because I’m yours?”

The question makes his throat tighten, just a touch before his body floods with warmth. “Because you’re mine.”

And fuck, the way you look at him as the words hit you, it’s like nothing he can ever explain. No words able to describe it, no phrasing that can properly explain it. It’s like a thousand things all flickering over your face.

It’s why he kisses you, needing to feel it, taste it. Finding you moving your fingers around his neck, nails scratching lightly at the base of his hair.

“I like our new rules,” you whisper, mouth hovering over his.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, twirling a curl around your finger before tugging ever so lightly.

“Yeah. I agree to all our new rules.”

As he smirks, you must want to feel it—because you press your lips back to his, deepening it, tongue sliding past his, licking behind his teeth as his body presses you more to the counter. So reminiscent of that first time—your words coming to him.

That is—if you didn’t find me so repulsive.

He groans against you, keeping you close, flush. “Fuck you must really like me, querida.”

Licking your lips, he hears you let out a soft breath. “I do, actually—in fact, I love you.” Lifting his brows, knowing they’re cutting into his forehead, likely all deep lines appearing as his eyes get even wider. “Have done for a stupidly long amount of time.”

“How long?”

Needing to hear it—needing it to coat him.

Shrugging, you smile, his hand rising, taking yours from around his neck and pressing it against his cheek. “Too long to not have said anything.”

“Me too.”

He wants to tell you it all. The speech that barely makes any sense. How his feelings for you are something akin to love at first sight, but not. Like an ache, a need. A purpose to make you smile, to make you happy—a thing he tried to do at all the chances he had.

And at some point, between then and now, he’d fallen, head over.

And fuck was he glad. More so as he has the opportunity to dance his breath along your lips, feeling the softest flicker of your hammering through his chest.

“Been crazy about you for ages,” he says, instead. “Made it easy to be too. Nothing about you has ever been difficult.”

“Not what I’ve heard you say in bed.”

Smirking, he purposefully slants his mouth over yours, wishing to paint your lips in the feelings that rage and flow throughout him. That he wants this, you, for the rest of his life.

“Thought I could never deserve you.”

“Fra—“

Your chastise is swallowed, muffled against his mouth as he silences you with his lips. Moving you, walking you—happy that you let him, as he twists his body, the two of you walk back to the room the two of you had woken up in. The one he wishes he gets to wake up in many more times.

“Tell me again.”

He knows he’s not specific, but he hopes you know. Not hiding the doubt he knows that usually strums inside of him, offering the chance for you to brush it away, remove it. Like you have done so many other times, but just never like this Your brain is cruel to you, Morales.

“I love you, Francisco.”

He kisses you, a groan vibrating against his lips as your body smothers his—all welcomed, a weight he’d missed.

“I love you so much, Frankie,” you whisper again, closer to his ear, his mouth on your neck, finding that spot.

Lifting the bottom of your jumper up, his thumb brushes over your soft stomach as he pulls it up off your body—unveiling you, smothering you in soft yellow as the sunlight tries to peek through your curtains.

“I love you, querida.”

He speaks it, then he burns those three words against you. Right under your ear as he casts your clothing to a corner, then against your pulse as he cups your breast, thumb brushing over the hardening peak as you whimper, before he does it a millimetre from your lips, watching you fix your gaze on him.

Your body is slowly smothered with his, letting himself feel you, all that he can. The few items the two of you are wearing are removed, falling in a littered pattern against the floor, until it’s just a skin-to-skin—the cool air pebbling both of your skin.

It’s your turn: say it again.

And he does. Not just with his lips, but with everything he has. Warming you, making you smile against his mouth as he slides his hand between your thighs, feeling it, how much you want him, how much you love him. Coating his fingers in it, that honeyed slick that he would feast on forever—almost tempted to drop to his knees and draw each letter of those three words against you.

“Wanna try something,” he whispers, instead.

Your eyes pinch, before smoothing out as he slides two fingers inside of you, easily up to the knuckle. Feeling enveloped, delving into silken warmth that welcomes him like you have done since the beginning.

“Wanna show you how pretty you are.”

His thumb catching your bundle of nerves, your pussy fluttering around his fingers—tightening, pulling him in. A gasp of his name leaving his mouth, already so wet, all beautiful, a sight to fucking behold as the tension fades and you relax around where he’s touching you.

“Can I?” he asks. “Show you?”

Yes.

I love you, he responds.

And you grind into him at the words, chasing a high from the fingers buried inside of you. He wants to say it more, let it be all he says to you today. Press it to every part of you, make sure you know only those words—

Your hand wraps around him, gripping him, thumb sliding over the head of his stiff, leaking cock as he grunts—and you grin. Twitching in your hand, mouth open as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Y’have the nicest cock, Frankie.”

“Fuck, baby.”

His eyes clench shut, your name falling from his mouth.

“Love how it feels inside of me.”

“Y’want it now, baby? Want my cock inside you?”

Please, you whimper. But, it’s only when you moan his name does he move, shifting you, removing his fingers from you, noting the whimper at the loss of him, as he guides your body in front of him, shifting until the two of you are standing in front of your mirror.

That mirror.

The one he’d thought of nothing else since you’d begun sending the photos, the phone call, the noises he was able to pull from you even miles away.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about your mirror, baby,” he whispers, nipping at your ear lobe. “Thought of taking you in front of it.”

Your head tilts, eyes meeting his, lust there—

And you sink to your knees without hesitation, staring up at him, waiting. That wave of whether he deserves you darting through him, but he stuffs it away, easily able to do when you offer your hand to him.

Following behind you, your back to his chest, a hand planted on your hip, the other guiding, leading the head of him in until you’re sliding yourself down on his cock. He buries himself inside of you, hissing as he does, as you take all of him, hearing the noticeable gasp as you do.

You’re so right, tight—so perfect. Moulded around him, adjusting, stretched just for him.

“So good for me.”

“I like it when you say that to me,” you whisper, eyes locking with his.

His fingers are on the base of your neck, staring at you in the mirror, letting his gaze wander up and down your naked frame. His hips slowly moving—cock sliding in and out. All slow, deliberate strokes that are so deep you whine in the base of your throat each time he leaves just the tip in.

“You look so beautiful taking me,” he hums, fingers flexing on your hip. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Me or—fuck, Frankie—my—“

He doesn’t let you finish, nipping your ear lobe. “You, querida. Always you.”

Your hand coming up around his neck, gripping, digging your nails into him as you move with him, hips slamming back into his—thrusts increasing, the noise the two of you are making together filling the air, a poignant reminder that it’s real, this, the two of you.

“I’m yours,” you croak.

Heat pools in his stomach, more so when he watches you in the mirror as your fingers slide between where the two of you are conjoined. Moaning, whimpering as your fingers move just above where his cock pistons in and out of you.

“All yours—always yours—“

Your walls tighten around him, fluttering, sucking him in and he wants nothing more than to fill you. Taking in each moan, noise, gasp you emit as your fingers begin to draw circles, his eyes focused on it, lasered in on your movements—knowing your eyes are on him.

“Gonna come, Frankie—so close—“

He’s tight, fingers grasping as his hips snap to yours, his mouth on the space between your neck and shoulder, licking, kissing, biting.

“Please, baby, please—“

“Let go for me, baby. Show me, let me have it.”

It’s heaven.

Getting to both feel it, watch you in awe of yourself as you do, while still getting to enjoy a view of you as your body tightens and then snaps. Your body arching into him, nails likely cutting into his skin, but he doesn’t care. Wants a bruise, and desires little half-moons scarred on his skin—evidence of the marks you constantly leave on the inside of him. The ones he welcomes, thankful for.

M’gonna come.

It leaves his mouth all foreign, your eyes opening, landing back on him—in awe, like he’s something you’ve fantasised about and found truly exists. And it’s all he needs, the look in your eyes, so close, impossibly so, flames dancing through him, all twisting, becoming an inferno.

“I love you, Frankie.”

His eyes lock with yours, your words hit his ears—and he comes hard. Shivering from it, shaking from it. Blissed out and fucked out as your name rips from his throat, painting the air in the same way he paints your walls.

Then he breathed, twitching, one last roll of his hips as he dragged your chin to face him, kissing you hungrily, desperately.

“I love you too,” he says, breathless, but very much fucking content.

At some point, you’re led back from the carpeted floor, back to the sheets you both woke in. His mouth sliding over your shoulder, fingers looped in yours.

The breakfast he had bought long since cold, but devoured, his hand on your knee as he grins at something you say, and you want to find your phone, open the camera and snap it.

It isn’t until the two of you are lay, silent, your hand inside his, head on his chest.

“When are you taking me on a date then?”

Hearing him snort, you look up, finding his eyes already on you, watching. “You free tonight?”

“I think I could move things around.”

And you smile, mirroring the one which slides across his—your heart thumping, all in a pattern it has been since the very beginning. I love you. I love you. I love you. Excited, thrumming with energy that slides against contentment, because—

“Really glad I’m yours, Frankie.”

Feeling his fingers fan out across your jaw and cheek, you let your eyes trace his smile.

“Glad you’re mine too, baby.”

Body curling into him, you let your fingers slide across his chest, you let the beat of his heart hammer against your wrist, smiling. Brain ticking, thinking, suddenly coming to a thought.

“Since Will knows. How long do you think it’ll take Benny to figure out we’re together?” you ask.

Staring off, you watch his eyes narrow as he begins to smirk. “Wanna see?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

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