#'professor (x) died on friday.' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hier--soir · 9 months

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a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something?

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you.

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome.

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.

thank you for reading!! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #ALP

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distantdarlings · 5 months

Text

INDULGE // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details, but reader is wearing a skirt)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* You've been working on an insane amount of schoolwork all evening and just want to lie down with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend has been doing the same but wonders if you might be interested in something else.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Body worship, oral sex, (perf. on reader), no protection used - piv, brief orgasm denial, language (also not proofread, sorry), very brief overstimulation, dom!Theo

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Sinner - Teflon Sega

---

The flame in the corner of your eye extinguished itself with a slight sizzle. You jumped slightly as it interrupted the constant silence that had stretched itself over the library.

You sighed and rubbed your fingers over your eyes, attempting to massage some of the aches. You seriously thought you would keel over if you looked at one more chart or paragraph. Your head tilted to the left and the right, feeling the pops that echoed in your ears.

The books and parchment laid out before you would just have to wait until tomorrow morning. You could barely keep your head up. You gathered everything together and slid it all into your bag, giving a polite nod to the librarian on the way out.

You glanced down at your watch, expecting it to be well after midnight—which it was. Did the librarian ever sleep? You wondered if she had some special draught to keep her awake for long periods. If she did, you needed some of it.

The halls were completely empty, as they generally were at this time of night. You’d gotten special permission from Professor Snape to stay in the library past curfew for the next weeks. You were balancing quite a few different projects and extracurriculars and, on top of all of that, had accepted a side assignment from Professor Snape, studying the side effects of the Venomous Tentacula’s venom and all that happened to the body before it eventually died from it.

It was fascinating and you felt content with your current workload, but you were just tired tonight. It was Friday, and it had been a long, long week. Right now, you just wanted to stop in with your boyfriend to see how he was doing. He should be asleep, but you know he likely wasn’t.

Finally, you arrived before the Slytherin common room, spoke the password, and slipped through the entrance. A few students remained in the common room, sketching or scanning a book, but none seemed particularly concerned when you came through.

You made for your dorm so you could set your things down and quickly change into your pajamas. The best thing about the dorm rooms at Hogwarts was the beds—no challenge. They were the most comfortable thing you’d ever laid on with silky, feather pillows, two thick comforters, and a large, form-fitted mattress you half wished to be buried on when you died. Thinking about them now had you picking up the pace.

You slipped down the long hallway, hearing the soft echo of your shoes hitting the floor with every increasingly rapid step. The books in your hands were becoming more of a burden than they initially were. You readjusted the way they were placed against you to bear your arms some rest.

Soon enough, the dorm entrance stood before you, bidding you a good evening and some sweet dreams. You pushed through the door and set your things down on the bed. Fortunately, yours was the one right next to the threshold, and you could just lay your things down as soon as you got in. You were considering not even taking a shower tonight.

You moved to the foot of the bed and grabbed your folded pajamas. It was awfully quiet in here, but you figured most of your friends were out for the weekend. It was no concern of yours; more reason to take an early night.

You slipped out of your day shoes and unfolded your pajamas, preparing to put them on. Plans, schedules, and your to-do list for the next day swirled through your head as you worked the buttons down your shirt. You figured if you knocked out all of your other assignments, you could spend the rest of the morning focusing on Snape’s project. That was probably the best plan of action…your hands allowed your shirt to slip down your arms. You grabbed your tank top and began to pull it over your head.

Warm hands suddenly became familiar with your sides. A yelp escaped you as you backed away against your bed. Standing before you was a quietly laughing Theo holding his stomach. The laughter slowly brought tears to his eyes. You crossed your arms and squinted your eyes at him. Dick.

“Theo! Why did you do that?” you scolded, smacking him across the arm. “I nearly jumped out of my skin.”

“I know, I know, it was hilarious,” he laughed, wiping his eyes with his fingertips. You didn’t smile.

“Do I look like I’m laughing, you jerk?” you asked, tapping your finger impatiently against your crossed arms.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just wanted to come see you,” he smiled, his laughter finally dying. His hands slowly slid back around your sides, massaging the skin through your tank top. The meaning behind his smile seemed to change slightly.

He leaned against the bed and bumped his nose gently against yours, causing chills to spread down your arms and legs. He leaned in closely and pressed a gentle kiss to the small center of your neck and shoulder. You tilted your head a bit to allow him easier access. He chuckled darkly and pulled away.

“But if you’re mad at me, I totally understand,” he said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ll just have to head back to my dorm…” He began to walk towards the door, shrugging his shoulders. You rolled your eyes at him, a smile sneaking its way onto your face. You wondered how long he would lay into this role. He did this all the time.

“Are you sure you didn’t have an important reason for coming over?” you teased.

“Nope, I’m just going to head back to my dorm…where it’s lonely…and cold…,” he sighed sadly. You tilted your head back and laughed at his award-winning acting skills before pushing yourself off the bed and walking over to him. You slid your hands around his waist, and he came to a stop, reveling in the feeling of your hands on him. You pressed yourself to his back, giving a sweetened hug from behind. His heartbeat seemed to slow as if you calmed him down.

Your hands around him traced their fingers over his stomach and traveled down to his hips. When you ghosted your fingers just below his belt, his breath hitched. You smirked at his reaction, hearing his heartbeat intensify. Your hands pulled away just as they were about to make contact with his core, you turned away and began walking back to your bed, ignoring the groan that came from him. It took him only a moment to swallow his pride and walk back over to you, catching your arm just as you were about to lay down.

He spun you against him and captured your lips with his, encasing your face between his large hands. His lips worked hastily against yours, cupping your bottom lip with his and pinching it between his teeth. You sighed into his mouth at the sudden shock of pain.

He walked you just a step back before you were both falling to the bed, never breaking away from the other. Kissing Theo was like coming up for air after being trapped underwater. His lips always moved against yours like a starved man, begging for a taste of you, never acquiring enough. His hands held you in place and his lips split you down the middle, leaving no room or need for air. He was all you needed, your only necessity. You could stay here forever, pressed against his body with no escape.

He parted from you and worked his lips down your neck. Before he continued down, he pulled the tank top from over your head and gently became acquainted with your chest. His lips pressed slowly against your skin, massaging the weight of it with his hands. His tongue skirted gently across the peak of each side, watching the way your lips parted at every swirl of the muscle. He touched you everywhere, and you always let him.

His fingers traced delicately down your ribs, sliding between them like a trap. He left nothing unkissed, untouched, unloved. His tongue worked absolute miracles over your stomach, each kiss lighting a scorching fire between your legs.

“You are so, so beautiful,” he breathed against your stomach. You sighed as his tongue traced one gentle swipe up the curve of your abdomen. Your fingers were shaking as they raised to slide into his hair, begging him to lower his head between your thighs. He hid a smirk at your desperation, loving the feeling he gave you.

Whenever your eyes would roll to the back of your head or your beautiful lips would part, he felt like royalty. If there was anything he was put on this Earth to do, he was sure it was to worship every inch of you and to pray to the sweet breadth of heaven between your legs. There was never a time he wasn’t thinking of you, thinking of fucking you, thinking of watching your every move. He wanted to bottle your every orgasm and bathe in it.

He flipped your skirt up and over your legs, not caring to take it off. You wore no tights today. All that was before him were your barren legs waiting to be parted by him. He slid his hands beneath your thighs and set them over his shoulders, adoring the weight of them against him. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of your thighs, slowly working to his final destination. His thumb reached out and barely guided itself over the cover of your undergarments, already dampened. You gasped sharply. He wanted to destroy you.

“Please, baby,” you whimpered quietly. “Don’t tease.” He did not intend to.

The tips of his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down, admiring the way your core pulsated gently beneath his gaze. Every exhale that escaped his lips sent a shudder through your body. He was close enough to smell your scent wafting all around him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he breathed in his one desire, the anticipation of the moment nearly taking him over. Beneath his belt, the core of his body ached so sweetly, begging for anything. He could not wait any longer.

He placed a soft kiss to you, feeling the way you jolted at the small touch. He kissed you once more, feeling the way your wetness collected on his lips. His tongue darted out against you, sliding between every inch of skin and against his lips, tasting every drop. You were like a dark wine tainting his tongue, shooting straight to his brain and cock. Every time he did this, his head would luxuriate in your taste and smell. Dulcet moans would leave his lips and echo against you. His hips would begin to move against the bed, rolling against the soft material. His self-indulgence in you and against himself would become too much for him. If he could never do this again, he’d find no reason to walk this Earth.

Your fingers clenched tightly in his hair and breathy, perfect moans spilled from your lips. Desperate whimpers of his name, begging for more, only urged him on more. He would never stop as long as you wouldn’t stop him. He didn’t need to eat, need to sleep, need anything other than you.

His fingers, previously holding your thighs apart so he could have full access to you, pulled between him and you. They slowly pushed through the expanse of your wetness, drawing a new kind of moan from you. Each digit circled around the folds of your skin, allowing your essence to seep between them and spill over his hands.

“Please, Theo,” you begged, your eyes making contact with his, “I need them now.”

His eyes never left yours as he pulled his hand to his face and ran a long, begging tongue up the palm of his hand. Your lips were parted in a deep, flushed moan as he slid them into you with little to no resistance. Nothing about your current condition was going to push him away. You only wanted more of him. Your head laid back against the pillow, your fingers curling tightly against his scalp once more.

His tongue found you again, matching the rhythm of his fingers. You wouldn’t last much longer, and he knew this too. Every time you came close to your end, your thighs began to shake. He knew the sight so well. As soon as the smooth skin there began to shudder, he knew you were getting close. He pulled away from you.

You nearly screamed in frustration, severely feeling the loss of him. He smirked evilly, watching you squirm against the mattress, attempting to push the tip of your climax over the edge. His hands slammed onto your hips, pushing you into the mattress. A small yelp left you at the action.

“I don’t think so, darling,” Theo whispered, his tongue skirting one more hot swipe over your core. You moaned loudly, bucking your hips against his lips. “Don’t I get anything?”

“Just shut up and do something, anything, I’m so fucking close,” you whined. He complied quickly, undoing his belt and sliding it from his pants. Your hands slid up and down your sides, trying to hold your finish where it currently rested, just on its edge.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he said lowly. Your eyes found his. His pupils were nearly blown across his whole eye with only the smallest amount of blue showing through. They were hardened and focused in on your core, watching intently as your legs slowly slid apart. The way he watched you and clenched his jaw, you felt like prey.

He knelt between your thighs, running soft fingers over the tops of them, caressing meaningless shapes. His tongue darted out over his lips and his eyes fluttered shut as he slowly slid into you. His lips parted as an angelic moan pushed from his mouth. His breathless voice slid across his swollen lips as he began to roll his hips into you.

“So good, baby,” he whispered, his hands tucked tightly beneath your ass, driving you against him. Every time he pulled out and pushed back in, he hit a new spot inside of you. The sounds of earlier were lost in the air. Nothing was able to come out of you but soft whines at every thrust. His fingertips dug into your skin, bruising the supple flesh there.

“You’re so warm, so perfect,” he breathed, his pace quickening. “You were made for me, made for this dick.” Your heart fluttered at his words. Ever the gentleman.

His hips were pushing into you so hard your whole body jolted up. Your head was inches from hitting the headboard, but you couldn't care less. The only thing you could focus on right now was the feeling of him inside you, claiming every ridge and valley as his own. Every inch of your body was branded with his name, burning wildly beneath his touch. His lips, his fingers, his everything had pulled you over in on yourself more times than you could count, yet it never got old. The only thing that made you feel truly alive was his touch.

One last shove from his hips and your finish was spilling over his hips and the sheets. Stars were flashing across your ceiling and blood was rising to your head. The letters of his name were lost on your ears and carved into the flesh of his back, bleeding beneath your fingernails. He was groaning into your neck as your entire body tightened around him, pulling him toward his own climax.

He groaned suddenly and inhaled sharply, preparing to pull out of you. His hands gripped your hips, and he began to pull away when you tightened your legs around his back and pushed him back into the hilt. The moan that left him could have shattered the stained glass. You could feel his release spilling into you, so slow and warm, and every pulse of him within you pushed a deepened moan against your chest. You released his hips and allowed him to pull back a bit before you shoved him back in one more time. A pitiful whine slipped from his lips at the bit of overstimulation.

The arms on either side of your head gave out as he collapsed against your body, his head resting against your chest. He sighed contently.

“How was that?”

He scoffed, lips pressed messily against your skin. “‘How was that?’ they ask,” he chuckles sleepily, “yeah, that was pretty good.”

“Only pretty good?” you ask, faking offense.

“That was the most perfect sex I’ve ever had, but—then again—I do say that every time we have sex,” he laughed. Just before he fell into a pleasantly deep sleep, you brushed his hair from his forehead and kissed him there, though you didn’t have much time before light snores echoed in the room.

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #gender neutral reader #smut #hogwarts fanfiction

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jaylver · 1 year

Text

WIN ONE WIN ME — L.HS

SYNOPSIS: who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance

WARNING(S): profanities, violence (fight), suggestive content (no smut), heeseung is a retired fuckboy turned good + y/n is a party goer, drinking, partying, jake being a footballer aka a soccer player ( NOT american football )

WC: 14k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: aaaa it's finally here ! hope y'all enjoyed it and PLEASE let me know how it was, give me some feedbacks and thoughts, it's been A LONGG WHILE since i've been writing so i'm worried i'll be crusty. anyway, enjoy !

part 1 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

“I'M SO NOT HAVING FUN ANYMORE,”

Friday nights were always preoccupied by hockey and hockey only. It has never changed ever since Yunjin, your best friend, gave you an introduction to the school’s ice hockey team. Being the massive sports fan you were, you obviously got hooked on watching their games live. But there were downsides to being a fan which includes witnessing the team losing.

You swore you were already in a foul mood that day, courtesy to your professor and shitty customers, you found yourself seeking solace in the hockey game, which turned sour almost instantly. Just your luck for the day, huh?

“It’s just the first period, Y/N,” Yunjin sighed, glancing up at the jumbotron, wincing a little at the scoreline. They were currently 3 goals down and Yunjin's reassurance didn't help at all.

“I suppose so,” you replied glumly.

The second period rolled by in a flash, but there wasn’t much of a positive outcome either. The team managed to score two goals, but the opponents out performed them and scored one more goal, continuing their lead.

You groaned loudly, along with many other disappointed students. 15 minutes of intermission ended rather quickly, bringing everyone back to reality.

“Oh come on, score already!” you shouted out in irritation, stirring other students to yell out in agreement as well.

The game was going slow and your patience was eventually growing thin. The clock was ticking, meaning the game was about to end soon with the team losing tragically. You shook your head in defeat, wrapping an arm around Yunjin’s shoulder and placing the other on your hip.

“For fuck’s sake, score already, idiots!” you yelled out.

Just when you did so, someone skated by, his head turned to look at you, meeting your eyes for only a brief second before disappearing into a sea of hockey players. You blinked. Did that just happen? You whipped your head to find Yunjin staring back at you, as if asking the same question.

“Did–”

“That–”

The two of you paused.

“Yeah,” you both said in unison, returning your attention back to the game.

As expected, the game unfortunately ended with a defeat for the home team. You and Yunjin decided to leave the arena immediately since it was already getting late, but you two also made sure to have a quick stop at the cafeteria to get some pizza before continuing the journey back to the dorms.

“I heard someone’s throwing a party soon,” Yunjin said through a mouth full of pepperoni pizza.

“Who is that ‘someone’?” you wiped your hand clean of pizza grease, then threw yourself on Yunjin’s bed, causing her to let out a grunt.

“That made me choke and I would’ve died. I don’t want my cause of death to be something related to pizza,” she grumbled, closing the pizza lid and taking the napkin you handed her.

“I thought you loved pizza?” you blinked innocently, flashing her your best smile and she threw you a dirty look.

“Think we got a little side tracked,” Yunjin mumbled thoughtfully. “If I’m not wrong, it was by one of those football chads? Was it Jake?”

“Jake might play football but he’s so not a chad,” you argued, unknowingly defending said boy.

Jake sim was, in fact, another popular athlete in your school who unsurprisingly turned out to be another playboy. You remembered the small heartbreak you had when you discovered his true identity, secretly wishing he was like any other non-fuckboy guy in the campus. But life’s unfair sometimes and somehow, that didn’t stop you from being acquainted with that golden retriever-like boy.

“You’re only saying that because he gives you free booze and free passes to football games,” Yunjin raised an eyebrow at you and you feigned ignorance. “Anyway, I think it’s that Yeonjun guy who’s throwing that party. He’s that rich kid, remember?”

“Yeah, I do. I saw him multiple times at games,”

“Didn’t he flirt with you?”

“Correction, he tried. Luckily Jake was there to stop him or else I would’ve given him a black eye,” you frowned.

“Would’ve loved to see that happen,” Yunjin shrugged while you narrowed your eyes at her.

“You’re praying on my downfall,”

“Never. Also, are we going to talk about that hockey player staring deeply into your soul just now?”

You rolled your eyes at her words. “I don’t think I would count 2 seconds anything—”

“Of course it does! Have you seen those love at first sight tropes in romcoms?”

“I think you watched too many of them, Jen,” you squeezed her cheek and she slapped your hand, deadpanning at you. “Who is he anyway?”

“If I’m not wrong, he’s number one, Lee Heeseung, the captain. I think he’s in your English class too? Ring a bell?” Yunjin raised an eyebrow at you.

“I think I do remember him. He’s the one with fangirls lining outside, right?” Yunjin nodded at your words and you laughed, thinking back to the time where your professor had to chase a group of girls away before class started. Why? Because of Lee Heeseung’s sheer presence.

“Let’s not forget his messy hookups. Yikes,” Yunjin shuddered at the thought, suddenly rubbing her chin with a small frown. “Don’t you think we’re a bit uneducated when it comes to their players?”

“I mean,” you hummed, nodding a little. “I guess you’re right, we’re always there for the game and some beers and we barely bothered to find out which player is which,”

“We should pull up their Instagram profiles next game,” Yunjin suggested with a wink.

“Oh, I think you’ll definitely be on it,”

“Obviously,” Yunjin smirked. “Anyway, up for a facemask?”

You huffed, a small smile appearing on your face. “You know I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“THIS IS SUCH A TYPICAL CHAD THROWN KIND OF PARTY,”

You found yourself complaining once more as you and Yunjin entered a big house. The living room was basically filled to the brim, along with loud music booming throughout the room and the smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils, this was pure hell. You turned to look at your best friend, silently cursing at her for bringing you here. Yunjin gave you her typical shrug as though she had read your thoughts, dragging you away from the vicinity.

"It's Yeonjun, what did you expect," Yunjin hissed, taking you further into the house.

"I also can’t believe you put me in this slutty dress,” you groaned. At this point, you were practically pulling your dress down every ten seconds from the way it kept riding up and you started getting beyond irritated by it.

“If not, you’ll turn up in your casual crop tops and denim shorts,” she shook her head in disapproval. “I can’t let that happen, not when there's rich guys here,”

"I'm here for a party, not to choose my next rich bachelor," you said in distaste, the last thing you wanted was a frat boy. “So, what are we going to do now?” you asked, holding tightly onto Yunjin’s hand as if your life depended on it.

“Enjoy ourselves, duh? I’ll go get some drinks. Sprite for you?”

You nodded, a little bummed out that you were missing out on some good booze since somebody, aka you, had to be responsible and drive back to the dorms without risking getting pulled over. You were already a broke college student, a fine would definitely not help your case.

Now here you are, stuck helplessly in the middle of a party with people you don’t know. Great. You thought about the possibilities that could've been if you decided to stay at home instead of leaning against a wall in a skimpy black dress and it had you groaning internally.

It was then the universe had heard your pleas of boredom and decided on some ‘fun’, except that ‘fun’ consisted of someone’s back bumping into you and their drink splattering all over onto your dress. You jumped in surprise and the boy who was practically pushed onto you had let out a small “oof” before fully realising what he had done.

“I’m so sorry,” he placed his cup aside and picked up some napkins from a table nearby. For a split moment, he was about to wipe your dress, then he paused, turning flustered when he realised what he was about to do, and instead, handed the napkins to you.

You gently dabbed the napkins on your soaked dress, a frown on your face as you felt the sticky substance stick to your skin uncomfortably. “It’s fine, you didn’t mean it anyway,”

You looked up from your dress, finally meeting his eyes. He blinked, seemingly trying to register who you were.

“It’s … you,”

“Me?” you pointed at yourself, a little dumbfounded at his words.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,”

That’s when it hit you. The very same eyes that stared back at you during the hockey game, the one that Yunjin had told you about. “Lee Heeseung?”

He resembled a bambi, his large innocent brown eyes gazing back at you, a look of curiosity behind them. He had a tall stature, his hair covering his forehead and it was styled plainly, not to mention his loosely buttoned up shirt clinging comfortably onto his frame. Now you understand why Yunjin said he has fangirls, you were shamefully about to be one too.

“Yeah … that’s me. What about you? Why’re you here?”

“Do you … recognize me?” you cringed a little at the memory of you practically cussing his team out, praying he would somehow forget it all.

“How could I not? You’re from English right? Shakespeare presentation, eh?” Heeseung recalled and you nodded, impressed that he remembered something from so long before, but most importantly, he remembered you.

“But of course, how could I forget, you’re also the person cussing us out on Friday too. I’m charmed, actually,” he chuckled nonchalantly as though it was nothing, but you, on the other hand, panicked a little and eyes only widened in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

Heeseung seemed to notice the panic in your eyes, waving his hands in reassurance. “Don’t worry though, I thought it was funny,” At his words, your shoulders relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief.

You let out a nervous laugh. “You guys did your best. There’s always a next time,”

“Right,” he nodded, then averted his gaze back to your dress, instantly coming back to reality as he remembered the current problem in front of his face. He removed his jacket in a flash, carefully placing it over your shoulders. The sudden proximity had you gasping quietly, the waft of his cologne infiltrating your senses.

He was close, so so agonisingly close. A wave of shock passed through your body as you felt his gentle touch, almost feather-like as it lasted only just a second, but now with his hugging your body, you could finally breathe an air of comfort once warmth engulfed you.

“Sorry about your dress,” he pulled away, flashing you a genuine apologetic smile. “I thought the least I could do was give you my jacket,”

“No worries, you didn't do it on purpose anyway, it’s not your fault,” you assured him, being a little self aware that numerous wandering eyes were now on you and the campus’ popular hockey team captain. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Actually,” Heeseung started, “I can borrow one of my friend’s shirts so that you can change? I don’t think it’s a good idea walking around like that, plus my friend lives in this frat house anyway,”

“If you insist,” you gave in, not wanting to reject his help as he seemed so keen.

You silently followed Heeseung through the crowd of bodies, trying your hardest to not get swallowed with the way people were shoving around. Heeseung noticed you lagging behind and smoothly took hold of your hand, pulling you closer to him. You didn’t say much, letting him guide you up the stairs into someone’s room.

You glanced around the room. From the way it was decorated with random posters, sports magazines stacked on the bedside table and dirty clothes littered the floor, you were instantly convinced that this room belonged to a frat boy.

Heeseung surprisingly continued to keep his hand in yours, using the other to dig through a pile of clothes until he found an oversize shirt and a pair of pants. “Here,” he handed you the clothes, finally letting go of your hand, stepping away with his hands in his pockets. “I think all the bathroom’s full so it’s best to just change here,”

“You think so?”

“I know so, I’ll leave it up to your imagination to think about whatever that happens in there,”

“Right …” you faltered at his comment, the two of you remained staring at one another. That’s when you cleared your throat, fumbling with your clothes. “I would appreciate it if you turned around … unless you want a show?”

“For free? I can't say no, can I?”

“You wish. Now turn around,”

Heeseung shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face as he threw his hands up in defence and faced away. You stood behind him, cheeks flared while you practically yanked your skimpy black dress off. Yunjin would not be happy knowing she’ll have to do laundry.

You reached over to the back of your dress, practically yanking forcefully onto the zip that was unwilling to budge even for a bit. God, why me? Why now? Internally conflicted, you didn’t know whether to bear the shame and ask Heeseung for help or to just stay silent. But to your luck, the zip was stuck no matter how you pulled it.

“Heeseung?”

He hummed in response.

“I need your help,” you swallowed, trying your best to not shrivel up and dig a grave in that moment. “My zip is stuck.”

Momentary silence filled the air. It seemed Heeseung, too, was having some internal conflict. In a second, you heard shuffling behind you, feeling the warmth of his body close as his fingers reached for your zip, his other hand on your waist. You felt his fingertips grazing against your bare skin as he dragged the zipper down, hearing a faint gulp from him. You squeezed your eyes shut, swearing to never come to parties again.

“You’re good to go,” he whispered, coughing awkwardly.

“Thanks,” you met his eyes in the reflection of the small mirror placed on top of a dresser in front of you. Realisation seemed to hit him and he averted his gaze, taking a look around the room instead.

You practically yanked the dress off, pulling the shirt over your head and the pants on, stumbling a little from the sudden hit of nervousness. Could it be his presence that made you nervous? You hated this feeling.

“I’m done,” you declared, suddenly feeling the tension in the air.

“So, I can look now?” Heeseung joked and you rolled your eyes, but smiled at him.

“Keep your eyes closed forever then,” you bumped his shoulder, sitting down on the bed.

“Should we stay here instead?” he suggested and you narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion, to which he scoffed. “Of course no funny business, who do you think I am?”

“Playboy Lee Heeseung, no?”

He groaned. “That’s what people think of me even though it’s completely false,”

“You do have fangirls, don’t you?”

“But I don’t date them, do I?” he retorted. “I don’t even go to parties much these days, coach has been up my ass,”

“Sucks to be you,”

Heeseung scoffed, turning to look at you with a question in mind. “You’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ever since I was a kid. Why?”

“I notice you’re always there every game night with your friend,”

“So, I’ve caught your attention?”

“A pretty girl like you surely wouldn’t go unnoticed in my eyes,” he was close now, a challenging glint in his eyes as his gaze fell to your lips from time to time.

“You’re funny, Hee,” you couldn’t resist smiling.

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes met yours, a sly grin on his face. “About your dress, I mean,”

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing damn well what lies in his words. Maybe he was just like every other campus athlete, but at that moment, you didn’t seem to care, your interest only increasing and you couldn’t tell if this was his plan all along.

You thought about his question for a moment, pursing your lip. “How about you win the next game? I think that’ll help a lot,”

Heeseung nodded thoughtfully. “If I do, can I get your number too?”

“Why not?”

“Shall this be a deal?” he smirked, ready for a challenge.

“Sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’ll win the next one, just you wait,” Heeseung's words were filled with utter determination and confidence. He was definitely ready to tell you 'told you so' and prove you wrong.

“Well, I’ll be waiting,” you glanced down at your phone, noticing over ten messages from Yunjin. Shit. “The clock’s ticking and I need to go. See you, captain,”

“Wait,” he caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to look at him, a big question mark written over your expression, anticipating his next words. “Can I at least know what your name is?”

You grinned. “It’s Y/N,”

"Get ready with your phone number, Y/N. I'll be looking out for you at the next game. Keep the jacket too," he winked and you waved a small goodbye, exiting out the door and dashed down the stairs with your dirty clothes in hand, wearing Heeseung's jacket, completely unaware how quick your heart was beating.

When you spotted Yunjin, you practically fell into her arms as she started ranting about why you shouldn’t run away without her knowledge, but all of it eventually drowned out into white noise. The only thing you could think of suddenly was Heeseung. Lee fucking Heeseung.

"Y/N," she sang out your name, tapping your head to catch your attention. “Why are you in a different outfit? You got laid didn’t you?” she gasped and you slapped her arm.

“Heeseung spilled a drink on me and took me to his friend’s room to change, that’s all,”

“Heeseung?” she gasped again, a teasing grin slowly forming and you knew that trouble was in that mind of hers. “You and him didn’t smoochy smooch … right?”

“We’re not there yet, hello?”

“There’s something called a hook up, you hopeless romantic,” Yunjin shook her head. “This sounds like the start of a hockey romance based on the books I've read," she squealed and you only sighed.

"Please read some self help books too,"

"Never," she huffed, leaning in and dropping her voice so that only the two of you could hear what she was about to say. "What did you two talk about? A private hook up after games? We need some spice in your hockey romance plot!"

"Oh my god, I rather drown than fuck that man. You do realise he has fangirls chasing after him? They'll choke me in my sleep if I slept with him,"

Yunjin wrapped her arm around you. "I'll choke you first if you don't bag that man. He's tall, hockey captain, hot most importantly," she winked. "One down part is that I'm pretty sure he used to fuck around quite a lot too. But then a messy hook up traumatised him,"

"How so?"

"She was crazy from what I heard. That's why no fangirls will come at you for revenge, they know he's a whore, but they'll just line up instead," she led you out to a flight of stairs, where there were some questionable couples making out, but that didn't stop you and Yunjin from sitting on the landing.

"Totally not a red flag," you said sarcastically. "I don't know how to feel about him. He was nice, quite flirty. Maybe he's like those Wattpad cliches where he's actually a nice guy?" You said, sipping onto the drink Yunjin got you.

"Who knows? Judging from the past rumours I've heard here and there, he definitely was a manwhore, but he’s also a sweet and genuine one," Yunjin clicked her tongue. "I did hear he's quite a sweetheart aside from his fuckboy tendencies."

"A manwhore with a kind heart! Just my type!" You clapped your hands and Yunjin chuckled at your comment. “Anyway, I swore I'm done with hockey boys a long time ago. I don't want to like him,"

Ice hockey has always been one of your favourite sports, but hockey boys? They were a whole different story for you. A core memory from highschool that you wished to never revisit was the fact that you had your heart broken by a hockey boy. He was considered your first love, a best friend, that ended up breaking your trust.

"This is why you should date a footballer,"

You snapped out of your momentary daze, looking up to meet Jake Sim’s eyes.

“Present to me a perfect candidate then,” Yunjin crossed her arms, frowning at Jake. She wasn't a big fan of him, considering his notorious playboy tendencies, but over time he did gradually warm up to her.

"Me!"

"I'll rip your head off first before you get a chance with Y/N,"

"Ouch,"

You and Yunjin shared a look, then burst out laughing.

"What's up, Sim? Do you have something for me?" You questioned Jake, wondering what his purpose was for his sudden appearance.

"Nothing, I'm just bored," he said plainly, though you and Yunjin were a little unconvinced.

"Okay? Any games coming up?"

"It's currently a short break for us. I'm glad or else my legs will snap in half soon," Jake pouted, resembling a puppy, which you couldn't help but find endearing. "You should totally come and learn to kick some footballs soon. Jake Sim is always up for some training," he winked.

"I'll be the next running candidate to take over Messi, right?" Yunjin joked and you nudged her side, giggling.

"Only if you learn at Jake Sim's personal training," he shrugged, a small smirk on his face. "Anyway, I really want to watch the hockey team and I heard you guys were regulars. Mind if I join?"

You raised an eyebrow at Yunjin, shooting her a wordless question. Yunjin scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment before shrugging. All while that was happening, Jake was just standing there staring, a little unimpressed.

"Hello? I don't appreciate this mind linking conversation that I'm not a part of," he placed his hands on his hips, his head tilted to the side.

"Alright, sorry," Yunjin mumbled.

"Fine, you can tag along," you said, watching the boy before you grin.

"Let's go!"

"IS IT NORMAL TO BE FREEZING COLD HERE?"

Jake had his arms around himself, shivering slightly even though he was already in layers. You and Yunjin followed the boy to your seats as he marvelled at the size of the rink.

"I barely watch hockey games, I'm more of a summer sports kinda guy," he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Well, it's just your lucky day, you'll be witnessing a win too," Yunjin winked, passing you a knowing glance.

"How do you know?"

"Team captain over there–" Yunjin nodded over at Heeseung, who was practising on the rink with the team, looking good as always, which only further annoyed you. "–made a deal with Y/N. I'm sure his determination will mix well with his competitiveness,"

Yunjin glanced over at you, a small smirk on her face. "And here he comes," she sang and you whipped your head just in time to meet his eyes.

Heeseung skated over, a small smile on his face. You felt Yunjin nudging your side in excitement and you slapped her hands away, ignoring her giddy expression and you returned a lopsided smile to Heeseung.

“Y/N!” you managed to hear his muffled voice through the glass, which he tapped on a couple times to get your full attention.

“I’m going to score one for you tonight,” you were surprised with the determined glint in his eyes, proving Yunjin's statement immediately, and after a quick wave from him, he skated away to join his team, preparing for the game to start.

Jake whistled, fanning himself. “I definitely felt the tension.”

“Shut up.”

The second period ended with a draw, both teams were not willing to back down for just a little, even creating small brawls on ice from time to time, causing the tension to be heightened. The third period was equally heart stopping and gut twisting. You had to occasionally grip Yunjin's arm whenever there was a close chance to score.

There was a sudden switch in the atmosphere, the home team had dominated possession of the puck, the blades of their skates working overtime trying to reach the other end to the opponent’s goal post. One hit after another, the puck travelled from one player’s hockey stick to another, until it reached star player Park Sunghoon, who had defenders swarming him and it left him no choice but to pass to his captain, Lee Heeseung.

With one swift hit to the oncoming puck from Sunghoon, it shot into the back of the net, leaving the goalie absolutely defenceless. The arena erupted with shouts and cheers, not expecting the sudden turnover from their home team, the speakers were blaring music, followed by announcing Heeseung’s name, which was welcomed with deafening screams. Shamelessly, you, Jake and Yunjin were part of the screams, clapping and jumping.

The team jumped onto Heeseung, but somehow, he escaped them all and started skating towards your direction, pointing his stick at you and shooting a wink. 'For you' he mouthed slyly at you before rejoining his teammates.

“See, I told you Heeseung will win it for Y/N,” Yunjin said, seemingly pleased.

“MVP,” Jake clapped, a shocked expression on his face.

You, on the other hand, were trying to digest everything that just happened. The moment where he dedicated the goal to you had you unintentionally blushing, realising a sudden change in feelings. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be so bad if you gave him a chance. Countless thoughts swarmed your head even until the end of the game.

Now, here you were, waiting for Heeseung at the parking lot, your friends peeking in the car from a distance.

Yunjin shot you an encouraging thumbs up while Jake only laughed at Yunjin’s efforts. You glared at them, waving them off and you reciprocated back with a middle finger. That’s when you heard a rough cough behind you. Fuck.

“Y/N?”

You turned around slowly, looking as though you were just caught in the middle of commiting something you're not supposed to. “Heeseung,” you laughed nervously. "Congrats on the game! You played well,”

“Thank you,” Heeseung grinned. “I’m glad you came. I mean, you always do, what am I even saying?” he rambled, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

You couldn't help laughing, finding the way he got nervous was cute. He was cute too. Undeniable. "That was a nice goal by the way,"

"Well, I did say I wanted to score one specifically for you. I'm a man of my words, you know?" He chuckled, getting shy eventually. "I'm glad you liked it though,"

"Of course I did," you gave him a small smile, fidgeting your fingers slightly.

He straightened up, regaining his composure. “So … our deal,”

“You’re lucky I like you enough to actually stick to it,” you grumbled, shoving your hand into your pocket to dig out the piece of paper.

“You like me, huh?”

“Not in that way yet,”

“‘Yet’. So I do have a chance. I’m happy to know,”

“Do you want my number or a black eye?” you threatened rather unseriously, a teasing tone laced in your words.

“I’d prefer a kiss, but your number shall do for now,” he grabbed the small note from your hand, unwrapping it to find a candy in it. “Apple flavoured, what a nice surprise,” he mumbled under his breath.

“You’re cute, you truly have a way to my heart huh?” he looked up from the candy, storing away your number safely into his pocket.

You caught yourself speechless from his words. On average, you were typically unfazed by these comments. Countless boys had tried them on you and all of them turned out to feel icky instead of making you kick your feet, giggling. But this time, Heeseung proved you wrong.

"Coming from Lee Heeseung himself, should I be flattered?" You tried your best to stay nonchalant, keeping your heart rate down as much as you can.

"I don't know? You tell me," Heeseung leaned down, his face close to you now, making you slowly grow flustered.

"Count me a little flattered," you took the clothes from the other night from your bag, pushing it into Heeseung's hands, catching him off guard. "Here, relay my thanks to your friend,"

"Only to my friend? What about me?" Heeseung crossed his arms, staring accusingly at you.

"My number already counts as a ‘thanks’, doesn’t it?"

Heeseung narrowed his eyes at you, a smile itching at the corner of his lips. “Not enough. A date might suffice,”

“You are demanding, Lee Heeseung,” you huffed, but not rejecting his suggestion either.

“I’ll text you, pretty girl. I have a plan in mind, so you better clear your schedules,”

“Alright, captain.”

“FOR ONCE, I DON'T REGRET COMING TO A PARTY YOU SELECTED,”

You’ve always avoided frat parties, specifically frat boys, but this time, Yunjin managed to accomplish the unexpected by convincing you to a frat party. You had to admit, there was a small motive behind your agreement, which was to visit the richest frat house on the campus. Free expensive booze, a big pool, big everything, it was definitely going to be more than a party. All you had to do was avoid the frat boys and your night shall be made.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yunjin snapped, but you were too busy checking out the vicinity to listen to her grumbles.

“They have a huge ass yard and pool,” you whispered to Yunjin, weaving through the growing crowd. The house was too extravagant, even the air in there seemed richer. The tiles were completely marbled, there were stairs leading up to almost four floors. You wondered how it was even owned by a frat.

“This is a rich frat, what did you expect?”

“Touche.”

You and Yunjin didn’t bother waiting for a second before taking some pregame shots. The vodka burned your throat, making you wince a little, but it didn't stop you from more. The moment Jake found the two of you, it was already clear you were already on the way to being completely shit-faced.

"Oh come on, you already started without me?" Jake whined, downing two shots of vodka straight.

"Couldn't resist," Yunjin pressed her lips into a thin line, shrugging slightly.

"Also, did you guys hear?" Jake leaned in, dropping his voice. "The hockey team from our rival school is coming to this party,"

"What?" You hissed, frowning slightly. "Who invited their asses?"

"I don't know," Jake shrugged, picking up another glass of alcohol from a tray.

"Speaking of hockey," Yunjin cleared her throat, passing you a knowing smirk. "Aren't you going to find Heeseung?"

"I–why would I?" You stammard, avoiding Yunjin's piercing gaze.

"He's clearly into you. Didn't you see him pulling that stunt that day? Scoring a goal for you and winning just for your number? That's the most commitment I've seen from him or just any man in general,"

"Hear hear," Jake raised his glass in agreement, then proceeded to down it without a second thought.

"I'll see what happens tonight," you said, but your eyes decided to go against you, unconsciously scanning the room hoping to see him.

"Tonight will be full of opportunities," Yunjin marvelled, throwing her arm around your shoulder and winking. "If you know what I mean," she whispered.

"The first you'll see is me getting drunk, not getting laid," you let out an exasperated sigh, pursing your lips and pausing as something caught your eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows, instantly noticing a group of guys filing into the room. They must be the rival team Jake had mentioned.

“Must be them,” Yunjin pointed out, taking a big gulp from her cup. Jake whipped his head around, scanning the group of guys that were yelling loudly, dabbing up one another and seemingly unlikeable as a whole.

He made a sour expression. “Great, hockey jocks,”

“As though your group of football guys are any better,” Yunjin quipped, only earning a sharp glare from Jake and he cleared his throat, gaze focused on a specific person.

“That guy there must be their captain,” he nodded at the group and you had to squint your eyes to see who Jake had his attention trained at. Almost immediately, your smile dropped, along with your heart. It was him.

You froze the moment your eyes landed on a tall figure, it definitely was him. He stood out from the rest, being the taller and bulkier one with messy hair and undeniable charm from the way he was already surrounded by different girls. Yup, that’s 100% Matthew, your high school lover, the hockey boy that traumatised your love life.

“Oh fuck me,” you cursed under your breath, the other two turning to stare at you.

“You want to fuck him?” Jake shrieked in surprise and Yunjin slapped the back of his head, causing the boy to hiss in pain, silently cursing.

“No, dipshit. That’s her …” she glanced at you and you nodded, giving her a green flag to continue, “ex.”

“Him? Matthew Son? Your ex?” Jake was flabbergasted, panning back and forth between your ex and you.

“Unfortunately. High school ex, to be exact,” you grumbled, pushing away the ill thoughts and bitter feelings that lingered for Mathew. You were a new person, you were never someone to be stuck in the past, you weren’t about to be affected by him. Never.

“I might need more drinks,” you rubbed the side of your head, slipping away before the other two could even say anything. Though the voice in your head was constantly affirming that his presence wasn’t affecting you, you still couldn’t help feeling unnerved. Seeing him was unnerving too.

The kitchen was unsurprisingly glamorous and the space was huge. Everything in there screamed fancy and expensive. The counter was made from marble, cupboards were also probably made from high quality wood and the wide variety of food in there could literally make it resemble a grocery store. Best of yet, you had it all to yourself. For once, your ex made himself useful enough by helping you attract everyone to the main room.

You spotted some leftover bottles of gin and decided to give your bartender skills some try. It wasn’t your first rodeo thanks to Yunjin. Ever since she started bringing you to parties and being someone who’s easily impressed, you found yourself learning some tips and tricks on how to mix drinks from a rando in a party one day. Soon, it became your favourite party activity.

It was quite peaceful being all by yourself. The songs playing on the speakers reverberated across the house, but you didn’t mind it as you mixed a concoction of gin and juice on the counter, praying it would turn out fine.

“You’re here?”

You turned around at the sound of the voice, almost toppling over your glass in shock, but the moment you met a familiar set of doe eyes, you released a breath of relief, your heart unknowingly beating faster.

“You’re here too? I thought no parties for Mr Hockey?” you leaned back onto the counter as he walked to your side.

“Thought I’d give myself an off day after yesterday’s win,” Heeseung shrugged, glancing at you from time to time. “Surprisingly, I always see you at every party I go to,”

“I was dragged to every said party by force,” you thought of the she-devil, Yunjin, who somehow successfully convinced you to attend every party with her. “Do you want a drink?” you offered, nodding towards your half made drink.

“You’re making them?” Heeseung eyed the bottles.

“I am a woman of many talents,” you said smugly, continuing your drink mixing, feeling Heeseung’s piercing stare on you.

“A woman who wouldn’t poison me right?” he peeked over your shoulder, closing in on your face, his body only inches away from yours till the point where you could feel the heat radiating off him. Lee Heeseung definitely knew what he was doing.

“You’re doubting my abilities now then?” you kept your cool, pouring alcohol into a new glass for Heeseung.

He smiled. “Just trying to make sure,” he murmured into your ears and you could tell he was enjoying teasing you. Sly fucker.

“No promises,” your voice came out in a whisper, turning a little to the side to meet his pair of bambi eyes and your breath hitched suddenly upon realising how close the two of you were, you were only an inch apart from touching each other’s noses. You were scared to move even the slightest, shying gradually from his eyes sweeping your features.

“What if I said I wanted to kiss you,”

You scoffed, growing immune to his charms. “I thought you were a gentleman, Lee? No candlelit dinner first?”

He cracked a grin, chuckling slightly. “Sometimes I skip that part and jump to dessert first,” he winked and you rolled your eyes, pushing his face away and he burst out laughing. “I’m playing with you. I’m obviously a gentleman, can’t you tell?”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow at him in scepticism. “I can’t.”

“You love breaking my heart, Y/N. I’m hurt,” he frowns, feigning innocence as he laid his head on your shoulder, clutching at his chest and you found yourself smiling unknowingly at his dramatics.

You decided to play along, patting Heeseung’s head in so called “comfort”. “Oh, what can I do to fix your broken heart, Heeseung?” you exclaimed.

“Come to Jay’s birthday party with me?” he stared up at you with pleading eyes. Those bambi eyes will eventually be the death of you.

"Why?"

You've heard of Jay Park one too many times. From the campus cafes to the local club, he was everywhere, and you didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. He was another one of the popular hockey players from Heeseung's team which you've seen at almost every party you attended ever since your first year.

Yunjin told you only one thing upon seeing Jay Park: "don't meddle with him" and you've stuck to it.

"That's a bold invitation," you considered for a moment, still quite unconvinced. "Isn't it just a bro only party?"

"He's the one asking us to bring a plus one," Heeseung huffed, removing his head from your shoulder, a small pout on his face. "Worse part is that it's in a club,"

"Are you trying to persuade me or dissuade me?"

"What I mean is, I'll be with you there. It's also a VIP lounge given how loaded Jay is and knowing him, he probably rented it out too. Plus, they'll finally get to meet the girl who cussed them out!"

You buried your head into your hands in shame, embarrassment burning your cheeks red. "You can't be serious,"

"Unfortunately, I am. But they'll love you, don't worry, pretty,"

You glared at him while he only returned a cheeky grin back at you. “Fine,” you groaned out, ultimately succumbing to his words, unable to deny the effect he had on you. Curse him. “When and what time?”

“Next Saturday night,” his grin widened at your words, satisfaction washed over his face. “I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Sounds good,”

“That’s that then,” he glanced over at his shoulders, hearing faint shouts of his name outside of the kitchen and passed you an apologetic smile, as if expressing that it was a shame he couldn’t stay longer and you couldn’t lie, you wanted him to stay longer. “Remember to send me your address, gorgeous.” he waved his phone in the air before backing away and disappearing out the door.

It was about to be a long week ahead.

“SET ME UP WITH ONE OF THEM, PLEASE. I NEED THE MONEY,”

Saturday, to your dismay, unfortunately and eventually arrived. You didn’t know whether to be excited or absolutely dread the party, a certain feeling of anxiety clawing at your insides just when you think about meeting new people. Yunjin could only roll her eyes at you as she added more eyeshadow.

“It already sends shivers down my spine thinking that I’ll be speaking to them in person and you expect me to go ‘hey guys, my friend needs someone to be her sugar daddy, you up’?” you deadpanned, applying a layer of lip gloss.

“That’s exactly it,” Yunjin smiled pleasantly and you feigned gagging, making Yunjin laugh and almost poking the mascara wand into your eyes. “Also, do you consider this a date?”

“He did say he wanted to take me out, but having him take me to a club as a date? I don’t think he’s the sleazy type to do so. I take it as him taking me as his date … like a friendly invite,”

“Friendly invite?” Yunjin exclaimed incredulously, inching closer to check on the details of your makeup. “Did you see the way he looks at you? There's nothing friendly about that, he’s hooked,”

“You’re giving me false hope, Jen,” you sighed, standing up to change into an outfit Yunjin picked which, in her words,was definitely ‘life changing enough to have Heeseung on his knees’.

“Not false hope if it’s literally just the truth,” Yunjin shrugged, helping to clasp a necklace around your neck. “Come on, give me a twirl,” she squealed excitedly once you were done struggling balancing on one leg putting on the dress and shoes.

You complied with Yunjin’s request, begrudgingly giving her a small twirl. At the same time, you took the chance to glance down at your dress, satisfied that for once an impulsive purchase benefited you. The dress was a shade of midnight blue, hugging your body tight and showing off your curves in the best way as if it was custom made. All in all, as Yunjin would describe, it was simply ‘pants dropping’.

At the ‘ping’ of your notification, you saw a text from Heeseung saying he had already arrived and your heart jumped. With one swift hug from Yunjin and an ‘encouraging’ saying along the lines of ‘hooking up’ and ‘protection’, you were pushed out of the door and soon into Heeseung’s car.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Heeseung greeted, a half smile on his face as his hands rested on the steering wheel. He paused when his eyes landed on your figure, his gaze sweeping you from top to bottom, making you a little self conscious. He whistled under his breath, blinking slowly.

“Eyes up here,” you stared pointedly at him, crossing your arms, but you had to admit, you were checking him out shamelessly as well, the smell of his vanilla cologne in the air and his loose button up shirt wasn’t helping either.

“My bad. I was just admiring you. You look pretty,” he turned his attention back to the road, heading to wherever the club was located, just in time to not notice the slight blush to your cheeks.

“Really? You don’t look too bad yourself either, Lee,”

“Why thank you. I’m flattered,” he shot you a wink and you could only roll your eyes at his antics.

The rest of the conversation continued in a casual flow, making you feel at ease and your anxiety eventually lessened. The jokes he cracked made you laugh and with the way he answered your questions, you knew he wasn’t anything like the playboy people made him up to be. As much as you hated to admit, you were giving him the benefit of the doubt. Will it hurt you? Maybe.

After Heeseung pulled the car into park, you got out and you were instantly in awe at the exterior of the club. This was in fact a place where rich kids party, judging from the amount of ferraris, mercedes and other luxurious cars parked outside, you made sure to keep yourself away from the snobby rich kids or who knows, Yunjin’s wish might even be granted tonight.

Wordlessly, Heeseung offered you his hand and you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him guide you further into the club as you pushed yourself through the crowd, and soon arrived in a large room that was almost the size of someone’s living room. “You’re kidding,” you murmured, amazed by the size of the room and the decorations littered across every wall.

“Told you Jay was blessed with money,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, shooting a sweet smile.

“I should set him up with Yunjin,” you said thoughtlessly and Heeseung chuckled.

“He’ll like that roommate of yours,”

“Heeseung!”

You were interrupted by an approaching figure who was easily recognizable with that head of freshly dyed white hair. Park Sunghoon, another ace of the hockey team. Thanks to Yunjin’s valiant effort in finding every player’s instagram profile, you were now able to recognise who was who.

“Hoon!” Heeseung greeted back, giving his best friend a side hug.

Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon was quick to turn his attention to you instead. “Y/N right? Heard many good things about you,” he extended his hand, a sneaky grin on his face.

You accepted his handshake, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his words. “That’s me,”

“You’re a regular at the hockey games, how are they?” Sunghoon kept you company now that Heeseung went away to greet the others, but you didn’t mind, finding yourself growing comfortable with the Jack Frost look alike.

“Do you wish to listen to my boring five hour analysis on each game?”

“I think it would be longer than five hours,”

“Exactly,” you clicked your tongue, then narrowed your eyes in suspicion at him. “Plus, how do you know I’m a regular? It’s not like I score front row seats every game,”

Sunghoon glanced around as if searching for anyone who’s eavesdropping, then he gestured for you to come closer, which you did, though clearly confused. “I think Heeseung will kill me for saying this,”

“Why?” you whispered back, your smile twisting into a frown. “Oh god, is Heeseung a stalker?”

“What?” it was Sunghoon’s turn to be utterly confused, staring back at you as though you’re the crazy one. He shook his head. “Heeseung might fool around sometimes but he’s definitely not a stalker or a Ted Bundy wannabe.”

“Thank heavens,” you let out a sigh of relief, but Sunghoon definitely wasn’t done yet.

“Anyway, what I was about to say was, Heeseung has always paid attention to you, Y/N. English class, hockey games, he’s got sharp eyes, ace for a reason eh? He’s genuine about you. Believe me, I’ve heard about you since day one, and I mean this in a nice way, but I’m sick of him constantly talking about you without doing anything at all,” a small grin appeared on Sunghoon’s devilishly handsome features.

“I must admit, he was a player, but I can see he’s changing and I don’t think it’ll hurt to give him a chance. He’s a sweetheart, so just don’t break his heart, will you?” he glanced behind his shoulders, noticing Heeseung entering the room with one of his teammates and a girl. “Heeseung’s back and I know he’s going to kill me if he finds out. It’s nice meeting you, Y/N. My date’s here, see you!”

Sunghoon gave you a small pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving your head in a frenzy state. Lee Heeseung, captain of the hockey team, the school’s ace and pride, basically Mr Popular, was into you? Yunjin was going to strangle you in either excitement or surprise when she found out.

“What were you guys talking about?” he slithered smoothly to your side, bumping your shoulder gently.

“Hockey. Was wondering if he wanted an analysis on each game,”

Heeseung grinned, shaking his head gently. “You’re a menace,”

There were basically zero chances to be alone together, which you suddenly craved after Sunghoon basically dropped a big bomb on you, till now you still couldn’t swallow. Heeseung had you close to his side as he introduced you to each of his teammates and their dates, including the birthday boy Jay, and somehow all of them remembered you from that fateful night on Friday.

“So, how did you meet our dear Heeseung here?” Jay wiggled his eyebrows, passing you a glass of champagne that probably costs way more than you imagine.

“Oh, it was magical, I fell into his arms and he confessed his love for me,” you sighed dreamily, fanning yourself. At your words, Jay nudged you, a wide smile on his face and you waved your hand, stifling your giggles. “Kidding, it would totally be a wattpad cliche if that happened. He’s in my English class and we met at a party,”

“I’m surprised he’s somewhat won you over,” he raised a questionable eyebrow at you. “You are aware of how he was right? Or are you the type to scream and cry after figuring out his past fuckboy history?”

You gave him an unamused stare. “If I minded his past, I wouldn’t be here anyway. But he does seem like a changed person, I’ve heard stories from my roommate and they were … interesting,”

Jay let out a soft laugh at that. “I can tell he’s serious about you, trust me, he’s the type to not back down when he sets his mind to something. Let his hockey be an example,” he shrugged. “I know my best friend, Y/N. Unless he fucks up then I’ll punch him for you,”

You placed a hand on your chest, a bemused grin lit up your features. “You’re truly a gentleman, Jay,”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be your gentleman!” Heeseung appeared behind you, his arm thrown around your shoulder. If you could explode right now, you would. The amount of skinship you had with Heeseung was unhealthy and unknowingly, you found yourself succumbing to it each time. “Let’s go to the dancefloor outside? The guys really want to go,”

Now you were in the middle of the dancefloor, swaying your body to the beat of whatever song the DJ was playing and it was nice that it felt like you were in your own world, carelessly and mindlessly dancing to your heart’s content. You were surrounded by the boys’ dates, who you’ve found yourself befriending quickly, while Heeseung was nowhere to be seen after dancing for only a few minutes. Rude.

“Hi,” you snapped your head to find Jay squeezing through towards you, trying his best to not get his expensive shoe stepped on. “Where’s Heeseung?”

“That’s a question I’d like to ask too. He’s definitely not with me though. I thought he was with you at first … but I guess not,” you shrugged, frowning slightly as you wondered where that man would have run off to.

“I thought he was with you,” Jay huffed, annoyance clear in his features. “I swear if he’s out there wasted, coach is going to—wait…” he faltered, his gaze trailed over your head and being naturally curious, you followed his gaze, turning around and from a distance, you couldn’t tell what Jay was even looking at, until you pinpoint a familiar someone in a dress shirt you saw not long before.

There he was, sitting at the bar, back facing the dancing floor as he sat close to a girl, whispering into each others’ ears and laughing. You swore you didn’t care, but the heart doesn’t lie, you were jealous and it wasn’t helping how Sunghoon was just saying Heeseung was serious about you only hours before this. It was comical.

“Oh,” Jay said under his breath, taking a big gulp from the glass in his hand.

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” you said flatly, not realising you were practically shooting daggers into the back of Lee Heeseung’s head. Jay let out a small laugh that eventually turned into a cough once he saw you giving him a side eye, an apologetic smile appearing on his face.

“You know, Y/N, I have a plan,” his smile slowly turned into a smirk and it dawned on you, Park Jong Seong’s gears were in work and you didn’t know what you’re about to get yourself into. “Don’t give me that look, my plans are the best,”

Your frown deepened, resuming to give Jay a sceptical look as his smile continued to get more playful. Oh you were in for a treat. “Why don’t we make Heeseung … jealous? I mean, it is clear that he likes you, a little push won’t hurt can it?”

“Have you been watching too many romcoms?” you shot him a look of exasperation, noticing the similarity between him and Yunjin. One was already enough, you didn't need two. Jay nudged you softly, wiggling his eyebrows in encouragement for disaster.

“I bet you the moment he sees you with me, he’s going to burst and before you know it, you’ll be celebrating your one year anniversary—”

You held a hand up, silencing Jay before he could continue further. You started chewing on your bottom lip, a small habit of yours, as you found yourself in disbelief once these words left your lips. “Fine, why not?”

Jay shot you a wink, closing in on you and you placed a hand on his chest, raising an eyebrow. “No funny business, Jay,”

“You have no faith in me. It’s common bro code to not get with your best friend’s girl,”

You let Jay dance close to you, appreciating the fact that he was maintaining a respectful distance to you, setting a clear boundary between the both of you. Contrary to popular beliefs, he might actually seem not too bad. “I feel like Lee Heeseung might’ve been peeking at us,”

“You think so?”

Jay glanced at the direction of the bar, catching Heeseung’s piercing gaze and he smirked, leaning close to you. “Oh, he’s so watching us,”

"You're kidding," you turned around, still moving your body to the music, squinting your eyes to find Heeseung staring back at you, jaw clenched and lips pressed into a flat line, practically glaring daggers into Jay's head.

"You're not," you said mindlessly, hearing Jay burst out laughing behind you, but it all faded to grey as your eyes followed Heeseung's figure disappear behind a corner.

"He's leaving," you spun around, meeting Jay's panicked expression. "I'll go find him,"

"Did our plan work a little too well?"

"We’ll find out soon," you patted Jay's shoulder, whispering a quick thanks before welcoming the challenge of squeezing past sweaty bodies.

You figured Heeseung was heading back to the private room from the looks of where he was going, so you followed his trail around the corner, stumbling slightly and immediately regretting the amount of drinks you had. In the very next moment, you regretted more than just the drinks, you were contemplating your existence.

"Y/N?"

Son Matthew was staring back at your limp figure leaning against the wall for support, a mix of shock and confusion in his face. You, on the other hand, was about to sink into the ground in shame. Being tipsy and struggling to stand was already a moment you would never want anyone to see, let alone your cheating ex.

You cleared your throat, gripping onto the wall to straighten up, avoiding his wandering eyes as much as you could. The awkward tension in the air was palpable, you were aware how rigid the man before you was and you knew he probably didn’t think of bumping into you here out of nowhere.

“So…how are you—”

“Save the small talk please,” you interjected, sighing deeply at the usual post breakup ‘how are you’s and awkward catching up.

“Look, I never got to apologise and I know you hate me for it—”

“Of course I do!” you exclaimed, getting heated gradually and the alcohol in your system wasn’t helping one bit. “I walked in on you and her in the bedroom and you expect me to stand there to wait for your apology? It’s the fact that you never bothered to apologise after anyway,”

He looked down in shame, knowing every word you said was true and undeniable, meanwhile his silence only hurt you further. First loves always hurt, and seeing him here again after many years made you realise that you truly deserved way more than a hockey jock like him.

“I’m playing against your school’s team next week,” he said weakly, trying to change the subject. Great, another day to dread when it was supposed to be you and your best friend’s day.

“Good luck,” you didn’t know what to say, finding yourself in an awkward position. “Or not really,”

Matthew nodded slowly, clearly getting uncomfortable and you were too. “So, are you talking to someone now—”

“Yeah, she is,”

You felt an arm snaking its way around your shoulder, tensing for a minute until you realised whose voice it was.

“Lee Heeseung?” Matthew’s demeanour changed in a flash, suddenly seeming more spiteful and filled with jealousy. This was giving you deja vus of the red flags you’ve experienced in your past relationship. It made you feel sick.

“Son Matthew,” Heeseung cooed, eyeing him readily. Heeseung and Matthew had always been somewhat rivals ever since they started playing hockey. Matthew had mentioned a ‘rival’ once too many times in the past and lucky you, you were able to piece it together after entering college where you’d watched their teams play against each other once for a cup competition.

“Long time no see,” Heeseung said coolly, a small smirk on his face as he stared back at your ex, whose expression was twisting into a foul look. “Ready for the next game?”

At Heeseung’s mocking tone, Matthew scoffed. “You haven’t changed, eh? Still the usual overconfident Lee Heeseung,”

“They don’t call me ‘ace’ for no reason, right? Hey, I deserve some bragging rights,” you rolled your eyes at Heeseung’s words, which seemed to tick your ex further. He really knows how to rile someone up, doesn’t he?

“See you on the ice,” Matthew grumbled, walking past Heeseung and you, making sure to mumble ‘jerk’ loud enough for Heeseung to hear, prompting him to let out a laugh as he waved your ex tauntingly goodbye.

“How friendly,” Heeseung gritted out through a forced smile, his eyebrows furrowed, obviously annoyed but then he turned to you, a quizzical look replacing his previous agitated expression. “How do you know this guy? He’s a complete douche,”

“He’s my ex,” you admitted not so happily, noticing the slight surprise in Heeseung’s face.

“He wasn’t trying to do anything to you right?” Heeseung asked at once, his eyes flashed with worry as they darted around your face to your body. You softened at his words, shaking your head and reaching over to take his hand in yours.

“I’m fine, really. It was really awkward though,” you tried to laugh it off, but in reality you were so ready to dig yourself a grave. “You’re not wrong, he is a jerk and I don’t know what I even saw in him when he literally cheated on me,”

“Speaks a lot about his character for being so shit off and on ice. I’m sorry, Y/N, you deserved more than someone like him,” Heeseung squeezed your hand gently, passing you a consoling smile.

“It’s alright, Hee, I’ve gotten over him years ago. I hope you guys beat his ass next game,” you swung his hand lightly, beaming at his presence, but not noticing the fact that he was trying his best to hide a smile.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “I’ll trash him for you, Y/N,”

“Sounds like another challenge. I’ll take you up on it,” you smirked.

“You have to stop tormenting me, I swear,” Heeseung sighed wearily at your antics, but he couldn’t resist a lopsided grin. “Anyway, where were you even going?”

“To get a drink,” you blatantly lied through your teeth, unwilling to admit that you were actually looking for him. There’s one thing that Yunjin always preached and it was to never let a man know you’re chasing him. In times like this, you were about to listen to her teachings.

“You had fun dancing with Jay?” Heeseung smoothly brought up, completely having zero intentions of either sugar coating nor hiding his jealousy, and you were stunned by his straightforwardness, a small grin tugging at your lips.

“He offered me company, so I took up that offer. Someone here was off flirting with someone else, no? I thought you were a gentleman?” you said teasingly, but in secret, you had to admit you were a little upset. Just a little.

Heeseung stared back at you, a look of amusement and deadpan on his face.“I wasn’t flirting, Y/N. She was asking what drink I got since it looked funky and being the gentleman I am—” he gave you a smirk and winked, “— I answered her question, but she couldn’t hear me so I had to lean in. It’s genuinely a misunderstanding from someone else’s point of view,”

Noticing the slight lingering doubt in your features, he smiled at you reassuringly, throwing his arm around you and started guiding you back to the private room. “You do know I’m yours for the night, right? I won’t leave you for someone else. I told you I’ll have you by my side and I’ll stick to it,”

“Just for tonight?” you said curiously, peering up at him.

“What are you trying to say, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow at you quizzically, but you just brushed it off, flushing a little at your own words, meanwhile Heeseung sneaked a small smile after noticing your panicky behaviour.

“Let me take you home,” Heeseung offered, pushing the door open to a room scattered with people here and there, some making out on the couch and some at the corner having small talks. The contrast was certainly there.

“What about the whole birthday celebration for Jay? Cake?”

“Oh he’s too drunk for that,” Heeseung waved his hand dismissively, as if this was a common occurrence. “Sunghoon will help him out, don’t worry,”

“If you say so … then I won’t decline your kind offer,” you furrowed your eyebrows, pursed your lips and stared pointedly at Heeseung. “Did you drink?”

“Mocktails, Y/N, mocktails. I’ve been pulled over before and trust me, I want none of that again,”

“Bad boy Heeseung … interesting,” you nodded slightly, a mischievous smirk on your face, to which was met with Heeseung unamused laugh.

“I’ll dump you here if you call me that again,” he huffed, picking up your jacket and bag.

“What happened to being yours for the night?” you said in a sing-song tone, looping your arm around his and pulled him through the door, making sure to wave a half-drunk Jay along the way out.

“Might have to make some adjustments then.”

“Mean.”

NEVER IN YOUR DREAMS WOULD YOU EXPECT YUNJIN TO absolutely embarrass Heeseung the moment he dropped you off at your doorstep. But that was exactly what had happened.

"Oh Heeseung," Yunjin opened the door with a hand placed on her hip, staring straight at Heeseung with a vague smile.

"Uh … hi?" Heeseung greeted back with uncertainty, panning back and forth between you and your roommate.

"Kissed Y/N yet?"

You and Heeseung immediately froze on the spot, blinking in question back at Yunjin, and you swore to yourself that you couldn't take anymore embarrassing moments for the night or else you'll soon be six feet under. You felt heat travelling up to your face and embarrassment crawling onto your skin.

"Well! Goodnight, Heeseung. Thanks for the ride!" you instantly pushed Yunjin back inside, closing the door but just enough for you to peek your head out.

"Don't mind her, she likes to think … outside the box sometimes!" you whispered to him, an apologising half smile on your face and ears burning a scarlet red, which Heeseung mirrored and finally after a last goodbye, he left and you were alone with Yunjin.

"I'll kill you, Huh Yunjin."

"Fuck."

It's been a few days since that interesting exchange and you've already texted Heeseung about it, being able to sigh a breath of relief when he was cool about it and sparing the trouble of chasing Yunjin around. Soon, with the mountain load of work, it was already Friday night hockey in a blink of an eye.

“You whore! You lying whore," Yunjin hissed, sucking her teeth. "I heard a specific someone is done with hockey boys? Is she in the room with us now?”

You were caught guilty at once, passing Yunjin a dirty look as you pulled Heeseung's jersey over your head. "It just … happened. Oh my God, am I actually in love?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions first, genius," Yunjin poked your forehead. "Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"No hesitation. I've truly lost you to him, huh?"

"You're always my number one, Jen," you rolled your eyes at her antics, picking your stuff up and starting to make your way out to the arena with Yunjin clinging onto your arm.

“But the problem now is who’s going to make the move first?” Yunjin hummed, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

“I’m hoping he would,”

“Why don't you do it?”

“This isn’t the first day we’ve been friends, Jen,”

“Right …”

Being somebody who's afraid of confrontation, you find yourself stuck in the middle. Currently torn between wondering if you were finally ready for something new and worrying if Heeseung would treat you right. 'He's serious about you' rang in your head from time to time and you couldn't lie, you started reciprocating the interest he had in you over time.

"If you like him, just go for him," Yunjin spoke out of the blue after a moment of silence, as if reading your thoughts and sensing something off. "I'm serious, Y/N. He's a nice, genuine guy, and seeing the way he treats you, you deserve someone that gives you their all,"

"Yunjin I'll cry right now," you stopped in your tracks, pouting at your best friend while she could only laugh, throwing her arms around you and continuing to drag you towards the arena.

"Aren't they playing our rival team today?" Yunjin recalled, frowning a little upon realisation. "That means he's there too, no?"

"Unfortunately," you pressed your lips into a thin line, breathing out slowly. "You do remember me telling you that Heeseung and I bumped into him at the party right?"

“Yeah?”

“They’re definitely going to cause a scene tonight, I can feel it in my bones,”

“It’s not that serious,”

“Remember Matthew’s lifelong rival since high school that I’ve mentioned before?”

“Don’t tell me it’s …”

“Heeseung. Small world, right?”

Yunjin raised her eyebrows in surprise, whistling quietly under her breath. "Quite unexpected," she said breathlessly, not realising that you were now already at the arena. "I'd love a fight,"

"You just love chaos,"

"And you're right," Yunjin smiled sweetly at you and you pushed her face away, earning a laugh from her. "Is Heeseung not meeting you pregame?" She nudged your side, raising her eyebrows expectantly with a knowing smirk on her face as she led you down to your usual seats in the arena.

"He did text me…" you said, seeing Yunjin's eyebrows rising higher. "But he said his coach is more strict for today so no pregame meetings,"

"Lame," Yunjin booed.

"He also said he's treating dinner tonight after the game,"

"Not lame," Yunjin switched up and practically almost jumped out of her seat, clapping her hands. "Let's feast tonight. Go team!"

"MAN, I NEED SOME POPCORN FOR THIS,"

Nervousness started creeping up on you as you witnessed the heated start of the game, both teams clashing roughly into one another and fouling left and right. Yunjin was entertained; you were worried and stressed.

"They keep fouling our team and no time outs, you're kidding," you threw your hands up in frustration, noticing other students grumbling as well.

"Are we surprised? Big games are like this," Yunjin shook her head, crossing her arm and leaned back into her seat.

Two periods went by rather quickly, both teams were tied and obvious vexation hung in the air. You noticed Heeseung was practically flying around, chasing the puck with vigor, bumping hard into other players in order to reach the goalpost, but to his dismay, he missed the shot, earning groans from many, you included.

The third period rolled over in a blink of an eye, the tension heightened as the two teams were finding ways to score desperately. Your eyes instinctively followed Heeseung's speeding figure, but something in your stomach told you things were about to turn sour real quick.

Heeseung was zooming across the defenders with ease, guiding the puck towards the goalpost, until a distinct figure, who happened to be the one and only, Matthew, skated up next to him and started causing trouble. You couldn't tell what was exactly happening, but the aggression between the two was getting heavier by each second.

Next thing you knew, Heeseung rammed into your ex, sending him flying to the glass panels, but that wasn't all. Heeseung completely forgo the puck, throwing his gloves to the side and skated up to Matthew, sizing him up.

Both teams were extremely caught off by this sudden fight between them, everyone started panicking the moment Heeseung grabbed Matthew by the neck, but your ex seemed unfazed and continued uttering something to him, leading up to the part where Heeseung punched the latter in the face.

You and Yunjin audibly gasped and so did everyone else in the arena, including the players on the bench and the coaches who were yelling over the noise. Those on the ice made their way to the fight, trying their utmost best to rip the two apart, but Heeseung had his hands practically glued on Matthew, not wanting to let go as he was seen screaming at him.

"I mentioned wanting a fight but not like this …" Yunjin muttered, now standing and occasionally tip-toeing to see what was happening. "Matthew obviously egged him on and pissed Heeseung off,"

"Heeseung has the worst temper on ice, he knew what he was doing," you frowned, getting worried as you watched the referee sending both of them to the penalty box. Heeseung threw his helmet on the floor in frustration, his wet strands of hair sticking onto his forehead.

"Well, at least the team is winning," Yunjin pointed out to the score line, where a glorious 3-2 was showing on the jumbotron. The home team managed to score the winning goal after the game was resumed, taking advantage of the opposition's bewilderment from the fight to mess their strategy up.

The crowd was cheering and jumping, food got scattered around onto the floor and the away fans could only leave in silence. Towards the end of the final period, Heeseung's penalty ended and he joined the team in exiting the ice, face still a little sour as his coach started telling him off.

“You should find him after this,” Yunjin tapped your side and you nodded in agreement, making sure to text him beforehand.

‘Locker room’ was the only thing he texted back and you slowly got anxious, curious as to what had really happened between him and your ex on ice. One thing’s for sure, it definitely wasn’t something good.

You stormed up to the doors of the locker room, heaved a breath of courage and pushed your way in. Lucky for you, by the time you got there mostly everyone was gone, except for Heeseung and Sunghoon, both sitting on a bench, whispering aggressively at one another. That was until Sunghoon caught your approaching figure, giving Heeseung a final word before standing up.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon passed you an awkward smile, a first aid kit in his hands. “I’ll leave him in your hands, I have an appointment with someone now,” he basically thrusted the box into your hands, whispering a quick apology and thanks before scampering away.

You felt helpless and confused as the box sat in your hands, then you started advancing slowly towards Heeseung and soon, you were standing directly in front of him, prompting him to stare up at you, still managing to crack a smirk even when his face looked rough. His left eye was bruised, lips cut and cracked and practically bleeding, his knuckles red and bruised. Overall, he was quite literally a mess.

"You're wearing my jersey,"

"And you're bleeding right now, is that important?"

"To me it is,"

"You're a fool. You have a bruised eye now," you fingers grazed against his cheeks, gaze travelling from one end to the other of his face.

"Do you still think I’m cute?"

"One more word and I'll add a bruise on the other eye," you gave him a side eye and he only responded with a chuckle, patting the empty spot beside him and you complied, sitting down and your shoulder touched his, leaving zero space between the both of you.

“What happened?” you hissed, staring pointedly at him as your hands dug through the items in the first aid kit.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Heeseung grunted, nodding at your actions and you only returned an unamused look.

“I do, now stop avoiding my question,” you hissed, applying some ointment on his knuckles, causing him to flinch in pain, face screwed in discomfort. “What happened, Hee? I saw,”

Heeseung was reluctant, but he gave in eventually, anger evident in his gaze and tone. “It was your ex,”

“I know you are rivals, but you could’ve just ignored him—”

“No, you don't get it, I can’t! He was talking shit about you,” Heeseung ran a hand through his hair in frustration, adam apple bobbing as he tried not to burst out. "'Go back to that slut', 'do you enjoy my leftovers'. I can't just continue playing after the shit he said, there's no way I'll stand there and do nothing,"

"It's okay, Hee—"

"It's not," he huffed, his frown deepened, running a hand across his face. "It's not okay and I wasn't going to let that man call you names and walk free,"

You couldn't resist a smile, your heart thumping against your chest and your gaze softened, placing a hand on his. "Thanks for standing up for me. Really."

"I always will at any time, I care about you, Y/N, and I don't want anything bad happening to you," Heeseung blurted out, his face gradually turning red upon realising his own confession, making sure to seem nonchalant as he switched the topic. "You should've seen his face when I actually punched him. He was all talk only,"

"He's like that, unfortunately," you sighed as you finished wrapping some compressible bandages over his knuckles, whispering a quick 'sorry' when he winced.

“Honestly if you keep pulling these tricks on ice, I might think you’re into me,” you added boldly, referring to the other time where he dedicated a goal to you and he, too, realised the same, the tip of his ears turning a slight red.

“What if I told you I am?”

“Oh, I know,”

Heeseung leaned back, an amused grin plastered on his face. You couldn't tell if he's glad you knew or if he's in horror. "Am I that obvious? Am I too transparent?"

"Well, would you rather me be dumb and not take the hint?"

"Definitely not that," Heeseung leaned back closer to you, letting you clean the small cut on his lips. "I have a feeling someone ratted me out to you,"

"Partially, but I did have a feeling,"

"Motherfucker," he hissed under his breath, then his eyes widened, a look of panic flashed across his face. "So … you know I liked you before this, then do you … like me?"

You rolled your eyes, in disbelief these words were coming from the fuckboy himself. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here," you were finally done patching him up, placing everything back neatly into the box as he watched your every move. "You're fantastic at hockey but you're terrible at feelings, Hee,"

"I'm easily intimidated,"

"I didn't see you being intimidated while fighting,"

"Intimidated by pretty girls, I mean,"

"How charming," you mused, bumping his shoulder softly. "When and how did it even start, I thought you were the type to fuck around,"

"I've noticed you since English class and after some time, I saw you at my games too. I didn't want to approach you since I was worried you'd think of me differently because of my past—"

"Fuckboy-ness?"

"You could put it that way," Heeseung clapped his hands, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. "I just liked you. You were funny at presentations, charming, passionate in things you liked. I wanted to get to know you better and after meeting you, it just … clicked,"

"But at the party, why did you even bother asking my name when you already knew who I was?"

"First impressions matter, Y/N. I didn't want to seem like a whole ass stalker,"

"You could've mentioned that you knew my name from English. 'Oh you're Y/N from English', there,"

"Are you teaching me how to flirt?"

"I'm teaching you how to flirt with me,"

"Alright then," Heeseung turned his body to fully face you now, a look of seriousness on his face. "Y/N from English, I like you. So much till the point where I feel suffocated. I don't care if you'll beat my ass after we lose and I'll listen to all of your analysis, will you go out with me?"

"Yes and I like you too, jackass. Now shut up and kiss me already," you wrapped a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in towards you and attached your lips to his, instantly melting against his touch the moment he snaked a hand across your jaw.

You couldn't believe this was happening, it felt like a dream. His lips were soft, the taste of mint on his tongue lingered, the feeling on his lips on yours was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

Heeseung broke away momentarily, his forehead remained pressed against yours and you could feel his breath against your lips. "You're really romantic, Y/N,"

"You bet," you giggled in between kisses, your hands pushing him back a little as he practically chased your lips like a starved man. "You should go change,"

"Fuck, you're right," he glanced down at his hockey gear clad body. "It's getting late too, I'll drive you back. Want to stop by a drive through? I told you tonight's my treat,"

"I'm down,"

"Let me get my clothes, wait here," Heeseung stood up, ready to walk away but halting abruptly. "Tomorrow night, dinner, is that okay?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"It's whatever you like,"

"Pick me up at 7,"

"On it," Heeseung nodded slowly, taking note of it mentally. "Also, does Yunjin want some food too?"

"If you buy her some, you'll immediately be on her good list, just saying,"

"You two are so alike, it's scary,"

"We're besties for a reason."

IT'S BEEN FIVE MONTHS EVER SINCE THAT NIGHT IN THE LOCKER room. You remembered coming home with Heeseung tailing behind you after, a bag of food in his hands and a welcoming Yunjin greeting him at the door.

"You two finally kissed, didn't you?" Yunjin mentioned carelessly in between bites of her burger and you swore you saw Heeseung's soul escaping his body. "That's the shade of lipstick Y/N wears on the side of your lips,"

Heeseung's hand flew to the side of his lips, touching the spot where you gave him a small peck of encouragement before getting off of the car.

"I'm glad you two are together," Yunjin continued, not noticing the flushed state you and Heeseung were in. "It's been months—oh God, I need to tell Jake this,"

And she did, leading to Jake calling you up the day after where he basically shouted through the phone. Since then, you had a plus one to every football game Jake played in.

"You guys are so annoying," Yunjin grimaced at the sight of Heeseung leaning his head onto your shoulder.

It was currently a Saturday night just after Heeseung's playoff match in which he scored three goals, so now, the team and your friends were at a nearby bar celebrating the victory.

"Stop being jealous," Heeseung defended, dropping his voice and closing in. "That's why I told you to go for Jay,"

"Him? Only God can put up with him, I barely know him and I already couldn't stand him,"

"Someone will eventually," you shrugged, taking a sip out of your mocktail.

"Good luck to them," Jake mumbled, holding his cup up for a toast and downed it all within the next second.

The night ended with a very drunk Yunjin along with many other drunk hockey players stumbling over their feet. Jake offered to take Yunjin home and she could only splutter out some responses, while you and Heeseung went by yourselves.

"If we can win the playoffs, I'll literally explode," Heeseung was currently the happiest man in the world, one hand holding his girlfriend while the other was close to touching the playoff trophy. He could ask for nothing more.

"It'll happen, Hee," you assured, running your thumb across his finger softly. "It's bound to happen, the team is strong. You have to believe my analysis too,"

"Pfft, fairs, your analysis does always hit the spot,"

"See? I'm always right,"

"Yeah yeah," Heeseung chuckled, pulling the car to park once you've arrived at your dorm's carpark and you two just sat there naturally, a sense of ambiance in the air as the radio played quietly in the background.

"I love you,"

Those three words were the first to break the silence. Heeseung looked like he was in disbelief although he was the one who said it first. Meanwhile, you were starting to smile like a fool.

"Did I—"

"I love you too, you idiot," you grabbed his face before he could continue, knowing well he'll end up rambling in the end. You pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, earning a stunned look from him until he eventually returned the favour.

"Was it too soon?" He mumbled against your lips as he gradually pulled away.

"I was actually wondering when you'll crack,"

"Fuck off," he scoffed, squeezing your cheek gently upon seeing your playful smirk. His gaze softened, eyes evidently filled with affection, anyone could literally vouch for how whipped this man was."I love you, stay by me forever, please,"

"Say less, captain."

Hockey boys might've scared you once, but this time, one of them ended up mending your broken heart and won you over instead, and thankfully, he was here to stay. For a long time.

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anjelicawrites · 4 months

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Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

#answered #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey

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allicat0 · 7 days

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hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal. “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no.

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer.

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand.

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before.

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance.

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second.

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah. .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home.

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night.

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you.

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft.

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay.

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust.

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you.

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you.

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said.

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else.

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”.

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

#fanfiction #smut #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #Satoru gojo fic #gojo x reader smut #mdni #18+ mdni #jjk satoru

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dirtybitfic · 1 month

Text

so wrong yet so right

matt sturniolo x y/n

Contains- lecture, disciplinary conversation, dirty talk , flirting, humiliation.

( matt is your professor and you've been skipping class so he has you stay after class to talk)

y/n pov ~

I've been seeing this guy on and off for a while but recently he's been persuading me to skip my lectures and I agree every time. Today I told him I have to go to my class due to the fact if I missed today id be dropped from the class and I don't need to deal with that and my parents would be up my ass.

I grabbed my bag and packed up my shit and started my 8 minute drive to campus. Im honestly glad my apartment isn’t far from campus or id be late to every class ever.

I parked and made my way into the building. The halls were quiet since this is a later class and most of the building is used in the morning.

I had my air pods in as I listened to Maria Maria by Santana and the product G&B.

I open the door of my lecture room and make my way down the first two steps choosing to sit further in the back .

I sit down and bring out my computer to type notes during the lecture and wait for the class to fill up.

After about 5 minutes the room was filled to the brim with bored students ready for the day to over since its Friday and everyone just wants to be out at the clubs and parties taking place for st.Patricks day.

im gonna be honest this class is kinda boring I had to take it so I have to suffer through but ... the professor is hot asf so I don't mind being stuck in this room for 2 hours and 15 minutes.

Okay guys today were going to be sharing the stories you've all written throughout this week . professor Sturniolo says as he dims the lights and calls up the first student to read their story.

This is a creative writing class and we’re aloud to write anything we want but I missed the fact we’d be sharing the storys... I find that my best writing is dark romance . It's all I read and it's all that keeps me interested .

There is NO FUCKING WAY i'm reading this shit in front of the class . I guess from the class I missed on Tuesday was when he explained that we’d be sharing them with the class.

After about 10 students we were an hour into class . This is a smaller class probably around 60 people. Im praying to god we don't get through everyone today so I can write up a new story over the weekend that isn't filled with smut and masks and corn mazes like the one I have written this week.

I had to pee when we got to the 30th story so I got up quietly slipping out and rushing to the bathroom.

Call me crazy but every time my eyes drifted to Professor Sturniolo his eyes were already on me . Id like to think i'm delusional but the eye contact we held as he gave me a stern look had me feeling otherwise.

I made my way back to class and sat back down . Im guessing we were on about the 35 story when he said we only had time for about three more after this one.

THANK FUCKING GOD I CAN WRITE A NEW STORY THIS WEEKEND I thought to myself as another guy came up to read his story.

I was in shock after he read his it was a story about an old couple with dementia and the only people they could remember in the end was each other as they died in each others arms listening to their first dance song from their wedding. Im not gonna lie I shed some tears .

I looked back at Professor sturniolo as he called the second to last person up to read . He looked at me with a smirk and I swear I saw his Adams apple bob as if he was chuckling at the fact I was crying from the story that was just read. I quickly wiped my tears and sank into my seat.

After the last story of the class he started talking about how he wants everyone to start a new story and have it ready for next Fridays class .

I want you guys to focus your next stories on a specific feeling . It could be anger, happiness envy... anything you're feeling in the moment . I know I don't usually give prompts but I want you guys to express your feelings and show me through your writing style so I can feel them as well . Portraying feelings is a way to keep your reader interested . Have a good weekend and be safe .

everyone starts packing up and I do as well until ...

Ms y/l/n can you stay for a second we need to talk about some things

I loudly gulp as I look down the stairs where he stands as I nod my head and make my way down to him as the last students filter out.

have a seat ms y/l/n he says motioning to the seat in front of where he stands .

I do and sit quietly waiting for him to speak.

so would you like to tell me why you've missed two weeks of class he asks as he walks to his desk grabbing a few things and putting them in his bag.

I have no good explanation so I make one up hoping he'll believe it.

I was sick the first week and last week I had car troubles and was unable to get transportation here. I say sounding a bit unsure.

did you go to the doctor for a sick note he asks as he walks over to me standing in front of me looking down at me all the sudden making me nervous.

umm no

then I cant except that excuse . As for the car troubles ... uber is an option or the bus he says narrowing his eyes on me .

I mean ... yes but I...

I think your lying to me y/n and I don't appreciate it. Id like to think I make this class fun and you are a good writer what could possibly be worth waisting your talent hmm? he asks as he kneels down in front of the desk so I have to make eye contact with him .

I don't know I whisper as my face gets red and all the sudden the room starts to get hot.

Its a boy isn't it he ask as he tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

what ... I ask looking at him scrunching my eye brows

oh come on y/n your face says it all . I hate to see you skip class for someone who keeps you from having good grades and staying focused

I don't know what your talking about ... like I said I was sick and my car was broken so I say as I look away . How did my face give him that much intell.

okay y/n here's what we're gonna do i'm going to ignore the fact that you are blatantly lying to my face and i'll let these absences slide . But... if you even think of skipping my class again I will drop you and you will have to retake my class next semester... an I understood?

y-yes sir thank you I say as I take a breathe I didn't realize I was holding and look back up at him as he stands above me.

now did you write a story this week even though you were absent?

I want to lie and say no but i'm already on his bad side . I hate to say it but... he looks so hot when he's being stern and slightly irritated. He's only 27 and im 22 which is slightly weird. Most of my professors are old as fuck but it's kind of refreshing to have a young teacher.

Yeah I did I just... I didn't know we’d have to share them in front of the class and its not exactly... something I want to read to 60 people. I say as I avert my eyes to the ground.

Then good thing you'll be reading it to me right now... I know your style of writing I read them on a weekly bases but if you'd come to class on tuesday you would have known you'd have to read it aloud .

y-you want me to read it to you now I ask as I look up at him with raised brows and worry in my eyes.

yes unless you have somewhere to be thats more important . The correct answer would be " no sir ill read it now" his tone was laced with attitude mixed with a degrading flare that had me clenching my thighs.

no sir I have no where to be ill read it now I say with a tinge of attitude .

good girl now grab your computer and come back down here and start reading when your ready

I swallow thickly when he calls me good girl as my thighs squeeze together and my face gets red . It's so wrong to think of my professor in the ways I am but he makes its so hard not too. He looks down at my clenched legs smirking and walking to his desk grabbing his chair and sitting it in front of the desk I am at .

I get up and walk back up to where I left my bag grabbing my computer and bringing it back down . Opening it up and logging in as I find my story in google docs and take a breathe . Ive never had to read what I wrote out loud and I hate it so much . The fact i'm about to read a full on sex scene to my teacher should be illegal but he reads my story's each week so how bad could this be right.

whenever you're ready he says as he leans back in his chair waiting for me to start.

o-okay I say as I look down and start reading .

I was running through the corn field the three boys chasing after me from all sides . I cant tell who's who from the masks but I know if they catch me i'm screwed. Im being smacked and sliced by the sharps thick dried shucks from the corn but I power through trying my best to get away untouched . I decide to take a left and run down a narrow path that had been cut . I hear a low chuckle close by as I look over and I continue running to see the gold mask looking at me as the boy approaches me quickly . You can keep running all you want but we will catch you and you'll pay for what you did I hear a deep voice call from behind me . My breathing accelerated as my legs grow week from the amount of running i've been doing tonight. The path all the sudden opens to a large circle with a cross in the middle where they tie up the scar crows but it seems to be missing but fresh ropes lays over the arm parts. I turn around and all the sudden my body is knocked to the ground by a large hard object tackling me .GET OFF ME I scream as the man who pummeled me to the ground holds me down sitting on my legs so I cant fight back. Should have kept running darling you're in for it now he says as the other two apear behind him. Fuck all of you I spit as they all hover over me . The one holding me down hoists me up and the others grab my arms as they push me back into the cross. The ropes that were hanging are all the sudden around my wrists as they tie me to the cross and my breathing starts to pick up . What the fuck are you doing stop take me down now I say to them as I start to panic. Mmmm no. You knew we'd come for you after you sent Darren to prison and now... you'll pay for your sins the one in the black mask says as he steps close to me and I suck in a breathe . He deserves every single year he’ll be in there and I will never be sorry for it. I say as I try to kick him in the leg but fail when my arms burn form the movement causing me to whine. Easy sweetheart your only going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that the one in the red mask says as he steps up to me . Now are you ready to pay for your sins red masks says . What fucking sins I did what had to be done I bite back.

You see sending him to prison hurt all of us and you're going to repay us . You're going to be our own personal slut . We'll take every part of you until you finally realize what you did was a huge mistake black mask says as he steps up to me grabbing me by the neck . Hell no I scold him . These three boys are crazy and deranged . So dark that it feels like the moon barely even shows when they appear.

Jake mullin , Kade Brooksville and Connor palemess are some of the worst guys you'll ever meet . They are so attractive it hurts to even look at them but they have the worst personality known to man. I knew that they would make me pay for sending their best friend to prison but after Darren killed my brother I went psychotic and tracked down any information I could to put him behind bars but at what cost.

Now they want to use my body in a form of pay back for what I did. I should be angry and disgusted but ... the thought of these three men using me like their own personal toy has me dripping wet and embarrassingly I want them in ways i've never wanted a man in my life .

They each rip off their masks and i'm met with their faces.

Jake with his blue eyes and blond hair with a perfect jawline and juicy lips, Kade with his dark hair , stubble over his sharp jaw and perfect green eyes and last Conner with his hazel eyes and sandy brown hair with a perfect button nose and sharp jaw.

Kade steps in front of me as his hands move to my waist in a tight grip causing me to gasp .Now be a good girl and spread your legs he says deeply as he towers over me . I swallow but do as im told not feeling like putting up a fight and excepting the punishment for my actions. He pulls my shorts down along with my underwear tossing them back to Jake as his right hand moves down to my bare pussy causing me to gasp. mm someones dripping wet he says with a smirk that I wish I could punch off his face . Fuck you I say as I look up at his green eyes that are boring into me . He shoves two fingers inside me and I moan out as he speeds them up and grips my jaw with the other . Look at you such a slut enjoying what i'm doing to you he says as he gets in my face keeping eye contact as I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling back. i'm shaking and moaning as my orgasm washes over me . Kade chuckling in my face as he watches me fall apart .

Connor come behind her and hold her legs up Kade says as he starts unbuckling his belt. My eyes widen as my body is picking up and conners strong veiny arms wrap underneath my thighs holding me up. Kades jeans drop to his ankles as he moves to take his boxers off too. I look down to see his long and thick dick clad with 4 Jacobs ladder piercings making me gulp.

He steps up to me and I meet eyes with him as his glisten with lust and a tinge of devilish intent. He smirks at me and I want to die right here right now. I should be fighting this I should be disgusted but... i've never wanted something so much in my life. This is going to hurt but punishments shouldn't be enjoyable. he says deeply as he slides the tip in causing me to gasp and my face to squeeze in discomfort. So fucking tight he groans as he slides more in and I feel every piercing as he thrusts in all the way and I scream. The pain of the stretch has my hands balling to fists and my eyes to water. He starts pounding into me harshly as my breathing is rapid and my muscles tense the pain hurts so good. Thats it take it all he groans as he gropes my ass and pounds faster hitting my g spot repeatedly . This goes on for god knows how long and I’ve lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had . All I can do is breathe harshly when he finally finishes inside me and pulls out as Conner drops my legs and I hang on the ropes as my legs give out. Mmm I think we should just leave you here like this Kade says as he buttons his jeans and looks at me .My face is covered in tears and spit and I struggle to keep my eyes open from the exhaustion my body is feeling right now .Please don’t I whisper with a raspy voice . He chuckles as he tells the others to untie my wrists and Conner puts my short back on but keeps my underwear shoving them in his back pocket . Kade picks me up throwing me over his shoulder and walks back through the maze to his car throwing me in and driving back to their large mansion .

I take a deep breathe and stare at my computer when I finish reading the story unable to meet his eyes.

I mean y/n I must say you’re an amazing writer . You know how to set a science and really make the reader be able to envision where the story takes place.

Thank you sir I say but I still don’t look at him

When you write these stories do you envision yourself as the girl character he asks in a tone that has my eyes snapping up to meet his

Ummm … I guess yeah

Interesting he says as a smile forms on his face

You could easily be a dark romance author you have a talent for it … I mean these fantasy’s are thoroughly thought through and I think people would enjoy reading something like this. If I have to admit I read a lot of dark romance books myself and your writing reminds me a lot of books I’ve read and enjoyed

I smile at him as my face blushes and he notices as a smirk comes to his face.

Thank you sir I … appreciate that a lot

He stands up from his chair and come behind me as he bends down to be ear level with me.

Now. You better keep that promise about coming to my class from now on . I know you can be a good girl for me okay .

His voice so deep in my ear I feel the vibrations in my head and I accidentally let a whine out when he says good girl again and I hear him chuckle in my ear as he places a hand on my shoulder as he stands up to his full height.

Thank you for staying ms y/l/n . I can’t wait to read your next piece have a good weekend

I grab my computer and smile at him .

You too Mr Sturniolo I say as I rush up the stairs to my bag and rush out of the class room.

God wtf is wrong with me I think as I get back to my apartment and flop down onto my bed .

the way he spoke into my ear .... the heat of his hand on my shoulder... the way he calls me good girl.

the way i'm thinking about my professor right now is not okay and I know that but fuck me I cant stop myself from going to my nightstand and grabbing my vibrator.

Ever since I left that building tonight I couldn't deny the pulsing between my thighs and wetness that pooled when I read my story to him .

I strip and lay down on my bed as my minds ran wild with thoughts of professor Sturniolo .

maybe this will get him out of my head and ill be able to focus from now on.

Matts pov-

Y/n is a great writer but god reading her story each week drives me wild. I know thinking of students sexually is wrong and morally illegal but I cant help myself .

I was pissed off that she skipped two weeks of my class ... yeah obviously because she should be focused on finishing out her senior year with passing grades but also because I love watching her in my classroom as she works on her dirty little stories.

The way she bites her lip in concentration… the little smirk she gets when I know she’s writing a dirty line… the way she clenches her thighs when I call her a good girl

I know she’s my student and I shouldn’t be thinking these things about her but … I pull up her last story in my computer and decide this is the least time I’ll ever jerk off to the thought of her.

I need to clear her out of my head and be professional from now on .

Next class is gonna be different….

Part 2 coming soon 💋

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #fanfiction #smut

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int-writersmind · 5 months

Text

The Quid Pro Quo

Paring: College! Peter Parker x Reader (reader's an English major)

Summary: On a rainy night, sparks fly when the two of you exchange notes on each others classwork.

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff

authors note: hey, I might be a recent college graduate, doesn't mean everything is accurate ok? 🤭

Light rain taps against the window of Empire State University's library windows. You find yourself alone on the second floor at a table, wanting to tear your hair out over your Physics homework.

It was Friday night, the library was practically empty since most students were out partying or at the very least not thinking about their classwork. You, on the other hand, had made a deal with a fellow student to help one another on each’s work, a classic quid pro quo. You, an English major, were gonna exchange helpful notes on your classmate's Frankenstein paper that was due Monday, and he, in return, would help you prepare for your Physics test the following Tuesday. It was a great idea, brilliant even, if only Peter Parker weren’t running late.

You check your phone one more time before standing up and stretching your legs. You walk over to the big gothic looking window your table was next to, glancing at the rain smacking into the glass.

God, there were so many things you could have been doing right now instead of standing here like a young wife waiting for her husband to return from the sea. Like curling up with a nice book, with a hot cup of your favorite beverage, getting lost in whatever world and-

“Sorry I’m late!” came a familiar voice.

You turn and see that Peter Parker had decided to finally make an appearance after all. With your arms crossed, you watch as he quickly runs up the steps, tripping and almost falling while doing so. “I was starting to think you died or something.” You say quite sarcastically.

“Oh much worse,” Peter says, “Subway delays.” As you return to your seat, Peter sits on the other side, quickly taking out his own laptop and notebook. “What should we start on?”

“I don’t know if I can stand anymore Physics right now,” You glance at your phone, A Daily Bugle notification on top: Spider-Man v Lizard! Havoc on the A-Line!. You swipe it away, maybe it was better to go straight to the dorms after this. “Let’s just start on this Frankenstein paper since it’s much more open-ended.”

“Boo, I hate open ended,” Peter turns on his laptop, “At least with science everything can be quantified.”

“What about theories huh?”

“Theories can be backed up or disproven! English, it’s-it’s sooo subjective.” Peter sighs, “What do you mean the blue curtains represent depression! I have blue curtains, but not because I’m depressed but because they were on sale!”

“Ha-ha, like I haven’t heard that before” You shake your head and roll your eyes, “So, let’s see what you have. Wait, maybe it’s better if I-” You get up from your seat and walk over to sit on the chair next to Peter. “That’s better, now we can look at the screen together.”

Peter places one arm on the back of your chair, no thought really behind it. You pause for a moment before fake coughing, re-focusing on the screen in front of you.

Peter was one year older and the two of you met at an English course, Literature by Women, a gen-ed for him but a required class for you. You got to know each other the first week of the semester when your Professor assigned partner work to go through a set of poems. Ever since then the two of you would occasionally text each other with simple questions about class. That’s when you found out Peter was in a higher track for Physics and became an absolute annoyance when it came to questions. But Peter always lent a hand and never with any bitterness.

“You ok?” Peter asks.

You look at Peter whose face reads concern, “Yeah, just a little tired that’s all. Long day.” You turn back to the screen glancing at the title and opening lines of Peter’s paper.

“Ugh same,” groans Peter, “I got so caught up with something, I forgot to eat lunch”

“Oh, I think I have something.” You stop a few lines into the first paragraph, reaching over the table to grab your bag on top, you dig inside until you find half of a sandwich that you bought earlier. “Here, I didn’t know this sandwich had tomatoes and I just find them disgusting.” You make a face of disgust that causes a small laugh to come from Peter.

“You know you can always just take the tomatoes off right?”

“What about the tomato juices?” You say, “The remnant of the tomato never goes away!” You make a huge swapping gesture, “Do you want the damn sandwich or not?”

He puts his hands up in fake surrender, “Ok, ok.”

Peter takes his arm off the back of your chair scooting closer to the table before digging into the sandwich. You settle into reading Peter’s paper about the ethics of Dr. Frankenstein.

“Ok…ok, what you have so far it’s…”

“Horrible..terrible–” Peter sighs.

You turn and gently smack Peter on the arm, “Oh shut up,” You say, “It’s a good foundation, clear thesis, your paragraphs for the most part support it–”

“But…”

“But,” You widen your eyes and make a face. “You focus too much on the actual science of everything going on, focus more on the emotional. Victor uses the Creature for his own selfish desire not only for scientific exploration.”

“You got all of that from my paper?”

“More or less,” You turn your attention back to the computer screen, scrolling over the paper again. “See, anyone can write a thorough paper if they put their mind to it.”

“And…anyone can pass Physics if they put their mind to it as well. Let’s switch topics.”

“Oh, god no,” You say. “The greatest weakness of English majors…Science!”

You lean back as if you were fake fainting, a little too far back as you almost tip over in your seat, but Peter catches your arm just in time. “Woah there Faint-y, can lose you yet.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Peter closes his laptop, and grabs his notebook, you hand him your Professor given study guide. Peter glances at the document, nodding and shaking his head at certain terms. “Ok little English major, time to blow your mind with some science!”

“Certainly, but not in the way you're imagining.”

Peter just rolls his eyes and points to one of the first lines in the study guide that you're underlining and adding several question marks to. “Let’s start here.”

Your little tipping incident sent your chair slightly further away from Peter’s than earlier. With the underside of his hand, he pulls your chair, and you, closer to him. This causes you to hitch your breath. “Pete you gotta stop doing that.” You joke.

Peter doesn’t look up from the paper. “Stop doing what?”

You huff and glance away before looking back at him. “God are you purposely annoying or just clueless?”

Peter finally looks at you, a slight smile on his face, “I just need you close to me…to-to, uh, to explain this concept. Obviously.”

“Yeah,” You blow a raspberry. “Obviously.”

You groan, letting your head fall into your hands on top of the table, “I’m resigned to the fact that I might have to drop out of Physics.”

“No, don't! Physics is super fun!” Peter says with a little bit too much enthusiasm.

You peek one eye through your fingers, “Pete, I don’t think we’re working on the same frequency.”

“Ok, well I have a totally funny Physics joke for you,” Peter readies himself, “What did the male magnet say to the female magnet? Seeing you from the back, I thought you were repulsive. But seeing you from the front, I find you rather attractive.”

You pick your head up and lightly punch Peter in the arm, “You’re lucky you’re cute, because I’m already–Ah, spider!”

A modest size brown spider crawls out of reach from your hand on the table. You reflexively go to swat at it but Peter catches your hand before you could do so. You glance at Peter’s hand on yours rather than at him. He quickly lets go of your hand before he goes and picks up the spider ever so gently.

You follow him as he walks over to the window, the rain slowing down. He cracks open the window, urging the bug outside. You lean against the other side of the window, arms crossed over your chest, you can’t help it when a dry laugh escapes your mouth, “Sorry, but are you secretly some kind of spider-whisper.”

“Hmm,” Peter closes the window, “Maybe. Just looking out for the little guy I suppose.”

You can’t help but smile, truly genuine this time. You reach out and take one of Peter’s hands. “Come on, I think we’ve earned a break.”

You pull Peter by the hand, taking a second to close his laptop, and throwing your jacket over everything on the table. You turn around, switching what hand is holding on to Peter’s. You continue down one path weaving up and down other bookshelves, passing empty tables, you make a sudden turn down an aisle letting go of Peter’s hand. You trail your fingers over the spines of the books, as Peter follows behind you, hands in his pocket. When you make it to the end of the aisle, you stand in front of a window, the rainstorm continuing on. “I actually find rainstorms to be rather romantic.” You say.

“The Shelly kind or the Valentine kind?” Peter says, leaning against the bookshelf.

“Both.” You peek back, a smirk playing on your lips. You walk over to Peter, standing with just enough space for someone to squeeze through.

“Not so romantic when you’re caught up in it.” Peter glances at the window, then at you. “I’ve been caught…too many times.”

“So have I,” You step a little closer, testing the waters, Peter doesn’t react. “But you have to admit there’s something, I don’t know, intimate, about being sheltered in place, with just one other person. Like under an umbrella, or the awning of some corner store bodega–”

“Or in-between bookshelves at your college’s library?” Peter’s hand comes up to gently grasp your hand, your fingers slowly interlocking with one another. He pulls you in close, in between his legs. You place your other hand on his chest to prevent yourself from falling. “I might not be an English major but I think I can read between the lines.”

“And if I wasn’t so tired, I would totally come up with a Physics joke.” You response, your face flush red.

He brings his other hand to your face, his palm resting on your cheek, his fingers slowly disappearing into the nape of your hair. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Hmm, maybe…let me ask you one question?” You say.

“Shoot.”

“Can I kiss you first?”

Peter smiles, then nods. You bring the hand that was on his chest upwards, sliding up his neck, until your own hand is entangled in his hair. You close your eyes and lean forward, pressing your lips ever so gently to his. He pauses for a moment before kissing you back, slowly, taking his time. His lips felt soft against your own, warm and comforting, even if you could still taste the tomatoes from earlier. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What is it?” Peter says between kisses.

You move away just a little, you quickly peck him on the lips, once, twice–”It doesn’t really matter.”

Peter deepens the kiss, bringing both hands to hold your face, his thumbs gently caressing the skin beneath them. You loop both your arms around his neck, letting your body fall into his, your chest pressing against his. His tongue enters your mouth and it falls in rhythm with yours, dancing an unseen dance.

The two of you stop for a moment, foreheads resting on one another. “You know I’m still dropping Physics right?” You say through closed eyes and heavy breathing.

“Then I’ll keep kissing you until you change your mind.” Peter answers.

He holds you in his arms as he stands up fully, keeping his grip on you tight as he kisses you again. One of his hands drifts to your bottom, an open hand just resting on top of your clothing.

“Oh Parker,” You whisper. “Not as innocent as you look.”

“You have no idea…”

He buries his head into your neck, placing kisses up and down that make your eyes roll back. “We should…we should definitely continue this study session back at my dorm…since you know… the library closes soon.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Peter says as he now moves on to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.

You break away from him, pushing him back ever so lightly, taking his hand in yours. You lead him down the aisle, half-walking, half running.

“Come on, I still have a Physics test to pass”

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

Hey there, thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. If you like this consider checking out my other fluff-y story Potential Customer . Goodbye Void!

masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x y/n #ps4!Peter Parker x reader #spider man 2 ps5 #ps5!peter parker x reader #spiderman remastered #peter parker fluff #insomniac!Peter Parker #insomniac!peter parker x reader

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mybutcheredtongue · 4 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER THREE (see full series list here)

1992

The first day of term is always fun. Everyone arrives at breakfast happy and excited, the first years arriving particularly early because they're scared they'll miss it.

You take a seat at the staff table, a copy of Astronomy's Articles under your arm. You settle yourself between McGonagall and Hagrid. McGonagall's currently engaged in conversation with Dumbledore.

"Morning, Hagrid," you greet cheerfully and he looks up, giving you a great grin.

"G'mornin'! 'appy first day of term!" He booms and you chuckle.

"Happy first day of term."

You pile breakfast items on your plate, summoning a teapot from the middle of the table to pour some tea into your cup. With a wave of your wand, Astronomy's Articles opens itself in front of you on the first page, and you read as you eat.

"Anything interesting?" You hear Dumbledore's voice beside you and with the call of your first name you turn to him and shrug.

"Nothing I hadn't seen myself! There should be a meteor shower at around 12-ish on Friday night," you reply. "Meteor showers are wonderful, I would definitely recommend."

Dumbledore hums thoughtfully. "I have had the treat of viewing quite a few meteor showers in my lifetime," he says. "Once, I could have sworn that the meteors seemed to form the shape of a very animated chocolate frog."

McGonagall chuckles quietly and you join her.

"How do you know it was a chocolate frog and not just a regular frog?" You ask.

Dumbledore considers this for a moment. "I suppose I must have had a particular craving for chocolate that evening," he replies simply.

His plate is empty, clearly having awoken much earlier than you, and you return to your breakfast, flipping the page of your magazine onto a puzzle page, littered with crosswords, word searches, anagrams and some sudoku squares. Something for later, you think.

"How was your summer, Minerva?" you ask. Her first name has always felt odd on your tongue, after you spent 7 years of your life calling her Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, it was fine," she replies. "Nothing too extravagant."

"Did you go to any quidditch matches?"

"A few. I seen — "

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

You jump at the loud yell, turning to the source of the screech: a red envelope floating in front of Ron Weasley's face at the Gryffindor table. You exchange a look with McGonagall, returning your eyes to the scene playing in front of you.

Mrs Weasley's outraged yells are so loud that plates and spoons rattle on the Gryffindor table. Harry is wide-eyed beside him, watching in horror as Ron dips so low in his seat that only the top of his crimson forehead was visible.

" — STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE — "

You wince, knowing well how it feels to receive a howler at school.

Poor Ron.

"— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED — "

Harry's face has turned the same shade as Ron's, and every eye in the Great Hall is on the howler.

"Bloody hell, just run out of the hall, Ron..." you mutter under your breath in exasperation.

McGonagall hums in agreement beside you.

"— ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The howler then spins around to Ron's younger sister, Ginny, and its tone changes drastically. "Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

The howler drops and bursts into flames and curls into ashes. Harry and Ron sit stunned, as though trying to comprehend just what had a happened. A few people laugh before gradually a babble of talk breaks out again.

You chuckle, opening your magazine again and flipping the next page. "Happens to the best of us."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You wander down to the dungeons, your shoes audibly clicking against the hard stone floors. You wrap your arms tightly around your body, your hands bunching your woolly sweater at your sides.

You had spotted a poster for a 'duelling club' run by Lockhart and it had piqued your interest. You wanted to attend to make sure someone didn't die or get fatally injured because Lockhart seemed the type to not know a defensive jinx if it punched him in the face.

You push open the big wooden doors to the room he's occupied. Several students turn to look at you, but your eyes land on another man standing beside Lockhart, an unimpressed expression on his face.

Hm. Looks like Snape and I have had the same idea.

"Seems we have a late comer! No matter, join in with the rest, young lady!" Lockhart chirps.

You sigh, walking up to him to stand next to Snape. "It's me, Gilderoy." You tell him your name and he just blinks blankly.

You narrow your eyes in confusion. "We work together."

Blank.

"I literally sat beside you at breakfast this morning? You asked if I'd read your book."

Lockhart just stares in confusion, before his face contorts into an overdramatic picture of recognition. "Ah, yes! Yes, of course, I — uh — I recognise you, yeah! Of course I do!"

You scoff, rolling you eyes as he turns around to face the students. "Prick," you mutter under your breath.

You watch as Lockhart steps out onto the long, narrow stage and walks ostentatiously along it. "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me?"

A beat.

"Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works."

You have to cough to cover up your derisive snort.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart says, flashing a wide smile. The look on Snape's face when Lockhart calls him his assistant is absolute gold. Then, his eyes lock on you and he pauses for a moment, nodding to himself. "And, well, we also have our dear, uh...Astrology Professor here too!"

"Astronomy."

"Astronomy! That's what I said," Lockhart continues. "Professor Snape tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

You raise your eyebrows, glancing over at Snape as he pulls his wand from inside his robes, stepping out onto the stage to face Lockhart. As much as you have a...tumultuous relationship with Snape, you would definitely not be as keen and enthusiastic as Lockhart is to try and duel him.

You're excited to see that smug grin wiped off Lockhart's face, though you would love to do it yourself. You bet he'd remember your name after that.

Lockhart and Snape turn to face each and bow, though Lockhart's is considerably more flamboyant with much twirling of his hands while Snape jerks his head irritably. They raise their wands in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart tells the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"One...two...three — "

Both of them swing their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cries, "Expelliarmus!".

There's a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart's blasted off his feet, flying backwards off the stage wildly and smashing into the wall.

You bite your lip to stop your laughs.

You notice some of the Slytherin students cheering while others nervously watch Lockhart in anticipation, collectively breathing a sigh of relief when he unsteadily staggers to his feet.

The look on his face is priceless.

"Well, there you have it" he says, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as your see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it instructive to let them see..."

"Well, what spell would you have used, Professor Lockhart?" You pipe up, ultimately stirring the pot to make for a more interesting evening.

You remember when there was a duelling club in your school days. You'd had the pleasure of being paired with Lucius Malfoy, delicately delivering a few hexes to him. He'd had to walk around school with an ear the size of his ego, which was quite the difficult feat because it was exceptionally gargantuan.

Lockhart blinks stupidly at you, rolling a hand through his wavy blond hair. "Well, the Shield Charm, of course!"

"Shouldn't you demonstrate that as well?"

"Well, I — I hardly think the students want to see another demonstration...I'm sure they're dying to try it for themselves!" Lockhart stumbles.

You shrug. "I just think the students might want to witness...what does it say in your book? 'An extraordinary display of barely comprehensible wizarding prowess'?"

Lockhart's mouth opens and closes twice as he tries to think of something to say in return, before landing on a great grin and wiggle of his eyebrows at you. "Well, alright then! I'll let you try and defend my spells, young lady!" He eyes Snape, laughing nervously. "Best give you a break, Professor Snape!"

Snape mutters something under his breath and steps off the end of the stage to stand beside his Slytherin students.

You pull your wand from your pocket, facing Lockhart, bowing.

"One...two...three!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

A blast of red light explodes from Lockhart's wand, and as though there was an invisible shield in front of you, it bounces off harmlessly and is deflected into the roof.

Lockhart lets out a relieved sigh, as if he was expecting it to rebound and hit him instead. He chuckles lightly, regaining his confidence. "It's a good thing I went easy on you there!"

You blink at him, unimpressed. "Truly."

"Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professors, if you'd like to help..."

You start moving through the crowd, but Snape beats you to Harry, Ron, and Hermione first. You watch as he splits the two boys up, Ron huffing as he moves over to Seamus Finnigan, and Snape beckons Draco Malfoy over to pair with Harry.

You wince, well aware of their rivalry. They almost remind you of James and Snape when they were young, though that was a much more inequal affair at the time.

You sigh, pairing others together and stepping out of their way to observe their moves.

Well.

Disastrous is a kind word for the carnage you witness.

Lockhart is screaming hysterically over the battling crowd, attempting to quell the fights. The pair in front of you, Pansy Parkinson and Parvati Patil, are unleashing whatever horrible spells they can think of. Pansy's face has broken into a million boils, and Parvati's left hand is currently repeatedly hitting her own face.

"Hey!" You shout at the two. "Finite Incantatem!"

Parvati's arm stops moving, and Pansy's face stops breaking out. Some of the boils recede and disappear, while some linger and you sigh.

"Madam Pomfrey's," you say to her and she scampers off, screeching about Parvati on her way. "Where the bloody hell did they learn those spells..." you move away from Parvati.

Lockhart skitters through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "I said disarm only. I think you may need another demonstration on how to block unfriendly spells...how about a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," says Snape. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. How about Malfoy and Potter?"

You scowl. How could he be so cruel? "Mr Longbottom is perfectly capable of performing a simple shield spell, Professor Snape."

He glares at you, black eyes glinting maliciously. "Well, best not allow for any risks, yes?"

"You're being unreasonable — "

Lockhart looks between the two of you, as though choosing which side is the safer option. In other words, which of you he'd least like to piss off.

"Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, let's see how you fare!" Lockhart booms nervously and you click your tongue, glaring at Snape. His face contorts into a twisted smile as the two boys step up onto the stage.

"Now, Harry," Lockhart says, "when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raises his own wand, attempting a complicate sort of wiggling action.

He drops it.

He picks it up, saying, "Whoops — my wand is a little over-excited."

Snape bends down to Malfoy's ear, whispering something in it. Harry looks nervously up at Lockhart and says, "Professor, can you show me that blocking thing again?"

Lockhart cuffs Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

You snort. He is his father's son, that's for sure.

Lockhart isn't listening though, excitedly shouting, "Three...two...one...go!"

Malfoy raises his wand quickly and yells, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand explodes. You watch in shock as a long, black snake shoots out of it, falling heavily onto the floor between them and raises itself, ready to strike.

"Don't move, Potter," Snape says lazily, clearly enjoying the spectacle in front of him. "I'll get rid of it."

"Allow me!" Lockhart shouts, and before you can do anything, he brandishes his wand at the snake and there's a loud bang, throwing the snake ten feet up into the air and landing back down on the floor with a loud smack. Enraged and hissing furiously, it slithers straight towards Justin Finch-Fletchley and raises itself again, fangs bared, poised to strike.

Panic sets in through your body and you flick your wand, frantically yelling, "Immobu — "

Then, a hissing sound. You watch in disbelief as Harry walks forward towards the snake, hissing at it, and it slumps to the floor, docile, its eyes now on Harry.

Justin stares at Harry in horror. "What do you think you're playing at?" He shouts, and storms out of the hall.

"Harry..." you say gently, trying to appear calm and collected, despite genuinely thinking you may have jumped out of your skin.

Snape steps forward, waving his wand, and the Snape vanishes in a puff of black smoke.

Ron grabs the back of Harry's robes, tugging it and pulling him out of the hall. It's utterly silent and tense in the room and you swallow hard.

"Alright, everyone, I think it's time to get going," you announce, and the students obediently depart from the room, muttering between themselves.

Snape makes to leave but you grab onto the arm of his robe angrily and he turns to glare at you.

"What were you thinking, telling Malfoy to summon that snake? He was supposed to be practicing a shield charm!" You snap.

"A let down on Potter's part. He was unable to cast the shield charm."

"Oh, don't give me that. You knew what you were playing at, you shifty — "

"It is my fault," Lockhart chimes in and you think you can genuinely feel your will to live slipping from your grasp. "I weakened the snake to allow for young Mr Potter to have a better chance, but it seems I should have — "

You spin and glare at Lockhart. "Oh, really, is that what you were doing? Because it seemed to me like you just mumbled out whatever sounds came to your thick skull and hoped it'd do something!"

"Now, now, young lady — "

"It's Professor, you dimwit! I am a grown woman, I am your colleague! Don't patronize me!"

You scoff, anger bubbling terribly in your veins, as you brush off the front of robes and glare at the two idiot men in front of you. "Don't you ever put your students in danger again. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

You spin on your heel and angrily storm out of the hall.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

->-> read chapter four here!

#harry potter #fanfiction #the marauders #hp #hp fanfic #fanfic #angst #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #angst with a happy ending

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rmoonstoner · 9 months

Text

Lucky Dip

Miguel O'Hara x fem!mutant!reader (Gambit's sister, co-leader of the Thieves Guild.)

Warnings:

18+, size kink, size difference, chase kink, pie eating, p in v sex, cream pie, biting and scratching, mentions of blood from the biting and scratching, pain kink, praising the reader, teasing, slight rope bondage(webbing)

Mutant powers were chosen at random, using a 20 sided dice, 3 times. Speed, teleportation, and luck. Seems fitting for the sister of the gambling cajun, Gambit.

Note:

As it's a one shot, I didn't bother with forcing Miguel to say shock. In this, he swears like a normie.

***

Something definitely was not right in the Thieves Guild. Your brother, Remy, had been training new recruits for the past two weeks. Normally that wasn't a problem, but the X-Men had called out of the blue and specifically requested his assistance. They actually requested both of you, but you weren't too keen on going with him after the last time.

The last time you went, Hank had taken every chance he got to see if your luck was as infinite as Remy had claimed. He and Logan even picked up the habit of doing the Speed Ball special to you, without warning, or just outright throwing random shit at you to see if they could hit you.

As fun as it was being tossed around like a rag doll, it wasn't exactly the type of attention that you wanted.

So, with Remy leaving for whatever mission the X-Men had, that left you in charge of Friday's last class of the day. Then hopefully an entire weekend of lounging around, eating the stash of goodies while your brother was away.

"Now 'member, cher, dere's a big guy on da new recruits roster. He's very strong, an' he's as testy as Logan. Be careful 'round 'em." Your brother cautioned as he subtly pointed at the large man in a white jacket, a pair of glasses on his nose. He was calmly drinking a tiny cup of espresso, all by himself in the cafeteria. He just looked grumpy, a lot like Logan.

"I'll be fine, Remy. You worry too much."

"I mean it. Try not t'get yourself killed, cher. He didn't like it one bit when I hit on 'em. He threatened t'slit my throat if I ever did it again, so maybe you just dun leave him be. Has sharp ass claws, and he has dis sticky shit dat he shoots out of his wrists." Remy said with a froen. You could see he was obviously upset at being turned down and threatened.

"Shut up. You're just salty he refused your advances. Unlike you, I don't make it a habit to hit on the new recruits, or my teammates." You remarked as you jabbed him in the chest. Remy feigned a shocked and innocent expression while putting both of his hands up.

"It's not my fault dat I was born a ten."

"Wow. What the fuck, Rem? It's hard for the members to take you seriously as a leader when you're always such a salacious slut. I can only imagine how insufferable you are when you go work for the Professor."

"You're just jealous Xavier asks me for help, and not you." He said and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"I think you're jealous that the recruits listen to me better than they listen to you. Sure, exploding shit is cool and all, but I can drop-kick them into any dimension of my choosing because I can teleport! And because of that, I got to go hang out with the Avengers. They are on a higher tier than the X-Men." You gave him a sassy response and he snorted and looked away.

"Ugh, sometimes I tink Kurt would've been a better sis den you. At least he don constantly undermine my authority."

"Kurt talks shit about you behind your back, you saucy wench. He prays for your soul every night. Now that's bad if a priest prays for you, nightly." You shot back and he huffed. A second later, he started to swear up a storm in French as he searched his pockets.

"You alright?"

"I can't find my cocaine. I jus' put it into my coat pocket dis mornin'…"

"Good. You don't need the drugs. You remember what you did the last time you went over to the school with that shit?" You said and Remy just crossed his arms and pouted.

"Xavier forgave me."

***

The class had started, and you weren't surprised to see all the students, except for one, at the back of the class. The one at the front was the guy your brother had warned you about. He was huge, and he looked very grumpy. You decided to just teach a few basic pickpocketing techniques, and hopefully no one would get hurt.

"You son of a bitch!" One advanced student, John, was mad that the new guy hadn't followed the basic rules. Instead of stealthily trying to steal something from John's pocket, the new guy simply lifted John up by the ankles, turned him upside down, and shook him until his pockets were empty. Now John was struggling in the guy's grip, kicking and swearing. You went over and sighed.

"Okay, enough. Put him down. John, take the rest of the class out of here. I need to speak to this guy." You said firmly and the guy dropped John and stood back with his arms crossed while looking exceptionally pleased with himself. John took the others out of the room as he glared at the new guy. Once they left, you turned to look at him.

"What the fuck is your deal, buddy?" You asked as you leaned against the wall.

"John was trying to take my watch. No one touches my watch." He simply said, arms crossed.

Your eyes went to his wrist, seeing a fancy and very high tech looking watch that you would see Tony Stark, Reed Richards, or Hank McCoy wear. You raised a brow and slowly looked at the arm it was on.

He had massive arms and legs, a muscular torso, thick neck, and his face was pretty. You were one hundred percent certain that he had abs for days under that tight fitting white coat he was wearing. He was fine as hell, and you understood why your brother was disappointed that this guy told him a resounding 'No.' with a capital N.

"The whole point of the exercise is to steal something undetected. He would give it back when the exercise is complete. We don't attack our own people for following basic training orders, and we have a code of not stealing from fellow guild members"

"I didn't attack him. I stopped him from stealing from me, then I promptly liberated his belongings."

"Look, that's not how we do shit here, man. Our whole shtick is steal in secret from the rich and undeserving. Not shake the change and drugs out of The Spot." You scolded him and rolled your eyes.

"That's a stupid hero name. Who names themselves 'The Spot?' Sounds as lame as he looks."

"Right. What's your name, anyways?"

"Miguel O'Hara."

"Do you have a hero name? And please don't say Spider-Man, there's already two of those."

"Uh…" He stalled for a moment as he looked away.

"Right. Gotta work on that, then. What's your background? Like, human, Mutant, or…?" You asked while looking at his red eyes, sharp claws, and his funky looking vampire fangs.

"I am classified as a mutate. External forces caused my powers to develop." He said as he explained exactly what his powers were.

"Was it an accident?"

"Sort of. I did this to myself. I was trying to find and antidote to reverse a drug addiction to a drug that once you stop taking it, you die. My boss drugged me, hoping to black mail and keep me on payroll. When that backfired, I fled. That's why I am here. I want to destroy his business and take everything he holds dear." Miguel now looked very angry, with both fists clenched.

"Well, you're not gonna get very far acting like a bag a rabid Wolverines. My brother also doesn't take too kindly on people disrespecting him or myself, or the others he has put in charge of the Thieves Guild." You explained as he shifted and gave you an unreadable look. It was almost threatening.

"Look, Miguel, I don't give a shit if you wanna be here for revenge purposes, but while you're here, you will work as a team with everyone else, or you can get the fuck out of our hair." You said angrily and he tilted his head, a large grin forming on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

You suddenly got an idea, and you gave him an evil smirk. It was his turn to be worried and intrigued.

"Tag, you're it. Catch ya later, loser!" You declared and slapped him exceptionally hard on the ass, then darted out the door.

Miguel snarled and was off, chasing after you.

You ran past a few members, warning them to get out of the way as you hopped up the side of an empty elevator shaft and clambered up. About half way up, you could hear the hollow thuds of the metal at the bottom of the shaft, and it was loud!

Not only was it loud, but the vibrations shook you off balance. You almost slipped as you watched Miguel bound up the shaft after you effortlessly.

Your eyes went wide, and you quickly exited the elevator shaft and ran down a few hallways, then came to the stairs and ran down to the next level, and into another room. After, you teleported down to the main training room. There, you crawled up into the vents and found a shortcut to get you up to the roof. Once at the top, you waited for Miguel by watching the spot you came out of. You remembered your brother saying this guy had a good sense of smell, so you figured that he'd be a while since you teleported.

"What are you waiting for?" Miguel's voice surprised you.

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ!" You hissed as you turned around to see him hanging upside down from a billboard. You promptly backed up, tripped over your own feet, and fell back. Before you could hit the ground, Miguel had caught you and was now hunched over your body on his knees.

How did he find you? You were fast, teleported, and had luck on your side. Why the fuck did Lady Luck just suddenly decide to fail you now?

"Guess this means I win. What's my prize?" Miguel said smugly as he leaned down, his face just a mere inch away from yours.

You felt everything heat up as you became very aware of how he was perched over you. He was between your legs, both of his massive arms around you. One hand was firmly on your ass, his fingers grasping you tightly, while the other was holding your neck, fingers on your sensitive pressure points. His torso and hips were flush against yours, feeling like a perfect fit

"Oh, uh…" Your face went hot as you looked away nervously.

"You know, you're hot when you're angry. Even sexier when you're speechless." Miguel's voice rumbled as he forced you to turn your head, then he licked your lower lip. You sucked in a breath and felt him push his hips forward a bit.

So many things raced through your mind at that point. How unprofessional this man was. The audacity of this man that was pushing his huge and hard length against your aching core. How he was daring to do this, to you, the sister of the leader of the Thieves Guild.

And how fucking dare his sexy perfect face be that God damn smug.

He was pretty hot. Like, hot enough to give your brother some serious competition. Remy would not react well to not having any of the attention on him…

But it was nice to have some attention you actually might consider for once. Plus, you were suddenly feeling exceptionally horny.

For some reason.

"You know. I don't like your brother. At all. I honestly don't see how you're related. But you… I like you and I think that I deserve something good for catching you. I was told you're uncatchable." Miguel husked as his hand grabbed your hair and he yanked your head back. You hissed as his mouth smoothed over your throat. You went rigid and squeaked as he licked a line down the column of your neck to your collarbone. You squirmed and wriggled as a small moan escaped you.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Miguel hummed as he thrust himself against you. You whimpered and rolled your hips in return, which made him chuckle darkly.

"I'll even make a deal with you. You let me have a taste, and I'll be a good boy for you. I will listen to your orders without question. I won't cause trouble, and I'll even let your playboy brother continue to have his pick of the dating pool." As he spoke, his nose nudged alongside yours. You could feel his lips right there, barely touching you as he breathed hot air into your face. He smelled like spicy coffee and mint.

That wasn't all you could smell.

You could smell something else. His cologne or aftershave. It was woodsy smelling, with a hint of something floral. You smelled the deodorant he was wearing, which surprisingly smelled like fruit. Then the cleaners he used for his clothing, fresh lavender.

All of those smells were intoxicating, comforting, and most definitely arousing. So arousing, you decided to say fuck it and go for it. You deserved it. Remy be damned if he didn't like it.

Instead of answering Miguel, you bucked up and dove your hands into his hair, pulling him in for a heated kiss. You could hear the groan come from deep in his chest as he returned the kiss with much enthusiasm. You pulled on his hair as he moved down to your chest and started to pull at your shirt. Luck decided to spare each button and seam as Miguel tugged it off violently.

He growled when he didn't find a bra underneath and he was quick to find and suck and tug on your nipples with his teeth. You whined loudly as he kept thrusting his pelvis against yours. The way he was doing it was specifically for your benefit, using your groans as cues on where you needed the friction the most. You were almost at the peak, but it wasn't enough.

You suddenly turned the tables and flipped him onto his back, straddling him. He gasped as you grabbed his coat, then teleported it away. Next went his shirt, and you stopped when you saw his hero uniform underneath.

"You weren't kidding about being one of them Spiders." You said as your hands smoothed over the silky smooth fabric.

"I'm not a liar." Miguel purred, his hands finding your hips and squeezing them as he pushed up with his hips.

"Unlike my brother. That's a good trait to have. I like it."

"I have other good traits."

"Really? Such as?"

"I've been told I have a mean tongue punch." He said with hooded eyes as he ran his tongue over his fangs. You blushed and grinned.

"Oh…" You were very intrigued. Miguel returned your grin, his large hands smoothing up and down your sides.

"Si, la Diosa Fortuna." He husked back in Spanish. You loved Spanish, and his voice was absolutely perfect for it. You found yourself grinding down hard, loving the size of him and how he held you against him.

Again, everything was turned upside down, with him hovering over you. You gasped as his hands came down, hooking his fingers into your pockets and yanking them down your legs. He threw them somewhere, you didn't really care where, and he growled when he found your bottom matched the top, too.

No underwear.

"Dios mio…" Miguel's eyes went red once he saw you bare. You squirmed, trying to close your legs and hide, but he was quick to place both palms flat on your thighs to keep them spread for him.

"Mierda… Tan Bonita…" He hummed and leaned down to have a closer look, and you felt yourself grow wetter as his breath met with your heated skin. You could hear him inhale and groan.

You tried to sit up, but he grabbed your wrists and pushed them above your head. He grinned and tsked at you as he gave you a slow grind. Another groan came bubbling forth from your throat and you suddenly felt him let go, leaving something warm and sticky on your wrists.

What the..?

You tried to bring your hands up to inspect them, but they were stuck to the concrete. You almost panicked, but Miguel soothed you by gently stroking your thighs. His face slowly dipped down to just under your breasts, placing gentle, feather light kisses to your cold feeling skin. You exhaled slowly, feeling his hands glide down your stomach and to your hips, placing kisses where his fingertips touched.

"I saw you the first day I got here." Miguel rasped as he licked your left hip and squeezed the right with his hand.

"You were busy with Remy, and a few others, playing Poker…" Miguel grinned and looked into your eyes.

"And the smug look on his face as he hit on the guy you were clearly enamored with…" He went on as he switched sides, kissing and licking at your right hip.

"It made me mad, that he didn't respect you enough to leave the guy alone… Even madder when the guy reciprocated his flirtatious advances…" By now he sounded angry, but his touches were still gentle and purposefully focused on your pleasure.

"Which is baffling to me, since you were letting your brother win the card game. I saw your hand. It was the highest the deck can hold, and he was bluffing with a pair of twos…" He whispered loud enough for you to hear as he hoisted one of your legs up and put some of his webbing on your ankle. He did the same to the other leg, then connected the two, before finally chuckling at his handiwork.

"And I absolutely loved how that flipped the petty switch on in you. Your body language changed just enough for me to notice that you weren't letting him steal your crush aaand the win from you." He smirked and ducked his head under the makeshift rope, so it and your feet were now behind his head, the backs of your knees draped over his shoulders. He sighed and kissed your thighs as his hands cupped your ass, giving it a hefty groping.

"You slammed those cards down, glared at him, then took his comical looking little sack of treasure. I enjoyed seeing the joy drain from his stupid purple and black eyes as the dude that you two were flirting with tried to switch back to you, only for you to throw the cards in his face and vanish. That was wild to see. You know your worth, and that's so fucking hot." Miguel spoke between wet sloppy kisses all over your thighs and hips. He seemed pleased with the small yelps and gasps that came from you.

"You make such pretty little noises… And I haven't even had a taste of your sweet nectar yet… Which, by the way, smells irresistible…" He purred out, face getting right close to your core.

"I want to hear you make a lot more noises for me…" Miguel hummed, right before he went in for a teasing lick.

You felt your breath catch as his tongue slipped along your wet hole. He made a deep groan as he pressed his face closer, shoving his tongue inside and wriggling it around. The action was so sudden, you bucked. He was prepared for that and he held you down firmly as he licked upwards and rubbed his nose into your clit.

"Ah, fuck! Miguel…" You kept trying to move your hands, frequently forgetting he had them bound.

He hummed and moved a hand down between your legs as he moved his tongue up to your clit, sucking it in between his lips while his fingers quickly replaced his tongue.

One finger slid in easy enough, but it was a large finger. He probed and prodded you, then slipped another inside to scissor them until he found that sweet spot that would make you arch and moan.

He felt so good!

"You taste so good…" He mumbled while slurping at your clit, fingers slowly stroking your gspot.

You whined and squirmed more, hands making fists, face scrunching up in ecstacy as you peered at him through half hooded eyes. His tongue swirled up and down, pushing in and lapping at your sensitive bud. Your knees shook, eyes rolling back as you arched even more for him.

Just a little bit more…

Miguel decided that now was a good time to pull away. You groaned in disappointment and thrashed a bit to let him know you were displeased with him suddenly stopping. At least he kept his thick fingers inside of you, but he refused to budge them. He looked you in the eye and grinned while he slowly licked his lips and fangs.

"I want more of you." He leaned in and husked into your ear. You felt a shiver ripple through you, right down to your throbbing cunt.

"Miguel… Please… Stop teasing me…" You softly begged him as you clenched around his fingers. He hummed and nodded, then proceeded to wriggle his torso between your legs, so your roped up feet would stay wrapped around his waist.

"What do you want from me, hermosa?" Miguel asked while he slowly undid his belt and pants. Your eyes carefully watched him while you subconsciously licked your lower lip.

"Show me the rest of that fucking suit of yours. Please?" Your voice was full of need as you struggled with your confines.

Truth be told, you could break out of them, if you wanted to, but the thought of being dominated like this was thrilling. Miguel was proving to be quite the asset, because he was exceptionally great with that mouth of his. He hadn't even poked you with his teeth, thank the Gods. You could even swear his tongue was longer than a normal person's should be.

Miguel smirked at you and he shucked his pants real quick with a kick behind him. That left him standing in that blue and red. Your eyes raked down his form once more, going wide when you saw the bulge between his impressive thighs.

"I take it you like what you see?" He purred as the suit slowly crumbled away into a fine holographic dust, leaving him naked, aside from his footwear. Every muscle, curve, and dip was on display, and you groaned as he reached down to cup your face. His other hand gripped his leaking cock, and he pressed it against your opening, sliding it up and down your slick folds.

"Yes…. Please?" You gave him a pleading look as you lifted your hips, trying to encourage him to slip inside.

Miguel's eyes narrowed, hand slowly going down your body to your dripping center. He pressed his thumb over your clit and began to push himself in bit by glorious bit. You sucked in a deep breath as the head of his cock sank deeper and deeper, and quickly exhaled as he pushed himself to sit fully inside of you. Your mouth was wide open, eyes nearly shut with tears leaking down your cheeks at how much he was stretching you.

"Mierda… So tight… So wet…" He hunched down to whisper in your ear as he patiently waited for you to adjust and give him the go ahead. You controlled your breathing, feeling him whisper his praises as he gently stroked your thighs.

"So good… Your pussy feels so good… Amazing… You can take it…" His voice was rough and low, almost gravelly as he nipped your neck just behind your ear. You whined, moaned, and gasped as he dragged his fangs along your skin. He felt you flutter around him and he drew back just enough to look into your eyes.

"Miguel, please… Please, fuck me…" You breathed out as you ground your pelvis into his. Miguel groaned, his hands going down to grab at your backside, pulling you up as he sat on his knees. It was a bit awkward with your hands still stuck to the roof, but it was worth it with how much deeper he seemed to fit.

"Si, si… Just hold on…" He replied and then started to thrust in a heavy rhythm. He was testing to see how you felt and you answered him with a groan and writhed as he went harder. You could hear how wet you wet for him.

"You like that, yeah? Being fucked like this?" Miguel growled as he increased the pace. You weren't able to reply as he slammed hard against that sweet spot. You could only moan loudly and you came. You convulsed as he chose to keep pushing against that spongy mass of nerves.

Miguel was quick to stimulate your clit once more as he went faster, drawing another orgasm from you too quickly. You shook, thrashing as you yelped. He adored the noises you made, how you whined for him as he hit that spot especially hard, or how you gasped and barely could breathe when he decided to push you tightly down against the concrete and drag himself especially slow, teasing you.

"Such a good girl… Can I come inside?" He groaned as he went in and nudged his nose against yours.

"Y-yes… Oh Gods… P-please… Please fill me…" You managed to reply between strangled breathes and drawn out moans. Miguel grunted and his lips crashed against yours as he hungrily kissed you and started to go even harder.

You felt him pulse and twitch the closer he got. You couldn't do much but wriggle in his grasp as he moved on to your neck sucking and licking your skin. His teeth dug in a bit more as his claws gripped your hips, both just barely breaking the skin.

"So good… Gonna fill you…. Fuck…" He mumbled feverishly as he worked his pelvis hard against yours, making sure to rub your clit as he pushed in all the way. His teeth sank into your flesh, claws digging in as his cock spurted a thick load and painted your walls. You felt how warm it was, the rush of his fluids as he kept coming, pumping more and more into you. It got to the point where you started to feel it leaking down your ass, pooling under you as he started to move once more.

"More… One more…" He mumbled and kissed you hard. You could taste your blood on his lips as he dove his tongue in and amped up the speed of his hips again. You groaned and started to yelp as he fucked you hard a fast.

"Your hands… Scratch me…" He was desperate to feel your hands on him again, so he reached up and slashed the webs, freeing your hands. You quickly brought them down to his shoulders and dug them in, causing him to hiss out a loud moan.

"Like that, harder…" His voice cracked as you did what he asked and dragged them down to his ass, leaving angry lines in your wake.

He shuddered and suddenly twisted your body, and you heard the sound of the webbing snap at your feet. He somehow got your left leg straddled with his, with your right being put over his shoulder, one of his arms holding it in place, all while keeping his throbbing cock inside of you. He panted hard as he pushed in, somehow getting it deeper with each thrust.

"Oh fuck, so deep, Miguel, fuck…" You panted as you watched his face, with him damn near snarling as he looked at you intensely.

"Gonna put more come in ya… Gonna… Gonna…" He started to trail off muttering in Spanish as his movements got sloppily. He brought a hand down to rub at you, his face turning to your leg, tongue licking a stripe from your ankle to your calf, his eyes never leaving yours. You dug your fingers in harder, pulling him in closer as the obscene squelching noises got louder along with your moans.

"This is the best pussy I've ever fucking had…" He managed to get out, before the Spanish came spilling forth in a jumbled mess. His face twisted into sheer ecstacy as he slammed into you hard and released another fat load into you.

This time you got to see his expression as he came. He was gorgeous and sexy as his brows furrowed, eyes shut with tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. His mouth was divine, with him chewing on half of his lip, one fang hanging over it. His nose was crinkled just a bit, and his cheeks were blushed out on his lovely cheekbones.

He looked like a marble Renaissance statue of a God.

You felt yourself let go again, coming hard along with him. He made a whimpering noise as you clamped around him, and he brought you both to rest on his back, you on his chest. You both stilled, only the sound your heavy breaths filling the night air.

"Wow, that was amazing…" Miguel murmured as he kissed the top of your head. You hummed and snuggled in a bit closer.

"It sure was. I suppose you're going to rub this in my brother's face when he gets back?" You asked. He chuckled and patted your ass.

"That depends "

"On what?"

"If he tries to hit on me again, I'm definitely gonna rub it in his face, along with the fact that I stole this from him, and he didn't even notice." He grinned as he dug into his jacket beside him and showed you a small gold pill box. Your eyes went wide and you gasped.

"Miguel! You didn't!?"

"Sure did. Took it while he was busy smooth talking that brunette with the white streak in her hair. She saw me take it from him, too, and she didn't tell him. Dunno why."

"Oh, her? That's Rogue. Remy has the hots for her, but she keeps turning him down. She can't touch anyone without sucking the life from them... That, and something about him being too sleazy for her or something."

"Oh man, if he doesn't wanna be called sleazy, maybe he should stop hitting on anything with a mouth. I guess I'm doing him a favor, then." He laughed. You rolled your eyes, but knew he was right.

"True. I think he won't ever stop being a horny menace, even if he manages to find a partner."

"Being a horny menace isn't so bad."

"Are you for real, right now?"

"Well I think being a horny menace is okay if it's with one person all the time." He said with a charming grin, those fangs making him look extra alluring.

"Miguel, what are you implying?"

"How about dinner, tonight? Before Remy gets back? I know this amazing little place that has the best Jerk spiced fried potato wedges, and fantastic Belinis."

"A date? That's what you want from me?" You asked, a little surprised he wanted to see you again.

"Yeah. I like you a lot, and you're fun."

"You know what? Sure. Your tongue punching game was very convincing."

***

Note:

I wrote this while in an edible stupor over a few days. When not high, I was at work, escaping my duties by writing this trash and waiting for the floors and the laundry to dry. This was not proofread.

Also, I did not write the reader with the same Cajun accent that Remy has because:

1. That's too much work for a one shot.

2. I envisioned the reader to be biologically related through blood, and were separated young enough for her not to share the accent, but you can disregard this and do you.

***

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @einno-arko @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog @jklkverr

#spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x y/n #18+ fanfic #18+ content

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sl-newsie · 7 months

Text

Mature (Dr. Spencer Reid x College Student)

(Summary: The BAU gets a case that takes place near a college campus, and one student seems to catch Reid’s attention. There is a bit of an age gap. This is based during the end of Season 6. Warnings: Talk of cannibalism, gun violence)

“Remember class: Monday’s exam will have 150 questions and no makeups. Remember to study hard!”

My dental hygiene professor finally releases us, signaling the beginning of the weekend. It’s currently 5:30 on a sunny but crisp Friday in October. Nothing special, but the lack of leaves and chilly frosts makes it one of my favorite seasons. But I can’t take too much time to watch the weather- I’ve got work to do.

Of course I’m the only student who dares to sit in the front of the lecture hall, and I take my time to gather up my things as the others start filing out.

“You going to the game tonight?” One guys asks his friends.

“Yeah it’s gonna be sick! You’re bringing the beer, right?”

“Sure am! And what about-” He whispers: “The pot?”

Their conversation dies away as the walk out of the room, leaving me to shake my head in disappointment. No doubt their whole weekend will involve drinking, getting high, and possible sexual content. More than likely they’ll fail the exam.

“Merrian! Are you coming to the game?” I hear one classmate, Regina, ask.

“No, I can’t. I’m going for a jog and then starting my flashcards for the exam.”

Regina, one of the more popular and *cough* snobby girls gives me a fake smile. “Oh you never go to any social events! Why not give that brain a break and be a college student for once?”

I just shake my head and continue to look through my notes. “I am being a college student, only I’m being a smart one and actually trying to get through this class without depleting any brain cells through alcohol abuse.”

But my insult flies right over Regina’s head. She just keeps smiling, turns and walks away, leaving me (no surprise) alone again. But it appears today has something else in store, because the door opens and my professor walks back in leading a group of people who look way too professional for a place like this. The one that appears to be the leader is tall, dark-haired, and is wearing a traditional business suit. The man following next to him appears to be of Italian descent and is wearing a dark suit similar to the leader’s. Next is a blonde woman wearing- quite honestly, one of the most unique outfits I’ve ever seen. It’s a purple and blue patterned dress, hot pink heels, and a big purple bow with her hair in pigtails (it almost puts my current Veronica Sawyer gray skirt and blue blazer outfit to shame). Another man is bald with darker skin and a more athletic build, wearing a more laid-back style of clothing, obviously the muscle of the group. And last behind him is- huh. He’s a lot younger (and much cuter) than the others, one might say a few years older than me. He’s dark-haired like the other men and wearing slacks with a white shirt with a gray vest and blue tie, almost matching me. But what stands apart from his attire is the pistol tucked in a holster attached to his belt. It’s almost like the one I’ve got tucked under my skirt (for protection, of course). Are these guys from the police station? They don’t look like local authorities.

But sadly I’m still in the front and am caught looking.

“Who’s the model?” The blonde with pigtails asks, making me turn pink.

My professor finally notices me. “Oh yes. This is Merrian, one of my students. She’s just packing up-”

“On the contrary, it might be nice to have a younger person’s opinion on this matter,” the Italian agent speaks.

A younger opinion?

“By the way, I love your blazer!” The blonde squeals and rushes over to get a better look.

I title my head. “Not too bad yourself, Barbie.”

But the leader doesn’t seem too impressed. “At ease, Garcia. Remember why we’re here.”

The blonde nods and backs off, leaving me facing the group head-on.

“Is she trustworthy? We need to keep this as confidential as possible,” the athlete says.

My professor nods her head. “Merrian is one of the most dedicated students I have. I guarantee she’ll give you her best effort.”

“Very well.” The leader steps forward to shake my hand. “I’m FBI Agent Hotchner of the BAU. These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Garcia, and Dr. Reid.” He points to each agent, and when he introduces Agent Reid I can’t help but notice his body language shifts. He keeps playing with his hands and changing his footing, and isn’t as relaxed as the other agents. Maybe he just drank coffee.

I give a small wave. “Hello. So, what is it you guys do? Obviously you’re a government department but I’ve never really paid attention to that stuff.”

“Don’t you watch the news?” The blonde ‘Garcia’ asks.

“Nope.”

This answer gets me surprised reactions, especially from Reid.

“Why not?”

Yes, he’s definitely younger. His voice reminds me of the smart nerd type, but with my educational history I’ve never actually been able to meet many smart guys so it’s very new to hear this.

I shrug. “Ignorance is bliss. I figure if there’s something that’s truly important that’ll affect me then I’ll hear about it sooner or later. I try not to let the fear that strands from current events control my life.”

“Ok. Then to catch you up, we have a potential threat that’s been sited near the edge of town. There’s a man who’s been catching people in hunting traps and then eating them.”

Uh- Oh my! Was not expecting that.

I try to keep a steady face. “Alright. So what does this have to do with me?”

“Your current study of dental work, plus the unsub seems to prefer female victims,” Reid speaks up. “There’s one witness who managed to escape his trap, but not before he bit her. We’ve been able to analyze the teeth marks, but it doesn’t match the correct dental records. They show the unsub’s supposed to be someone who died 10 years ago. We checked the death certificate and sure enough the body’s buried in a nearby cemetery. Do you have any ideas why?”

I take a deep breath and try to piece together what I’ve learned so far. I’ve only been in this program for a year, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless.

“Take your time,” Agent Rossi assures. “It doesn’t have to be much, just anything we might have missed-”

I snap. “I got it! Have any of you guys ever seen the movie The Whole Nine Yards with Bruce Willis?”

Most shake their heads, but then Reid seems to follow my idea.

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant, Marrian!”

“Excuse me, mind letting us in on your inside joke?” Agent Morgan questions.

“At the end of the movie, they modify another body’s teeth to match Bruce Willis’ character and then burn it in a fire so the mafia will think he’s dead. What if this unsub had dental work done so he couldn’t be traced? ” My explanation starts the agents sparking up new conversations, leaving me to believe I might have actually just helped solve an FBI case.

“I know it’s not the type of professional answer you might have wanted.”

“That’s just the kind of insight we were looking for,” Agent Hotchner finally addresses me. “Thank you, Merrian. We’ll be sure to stay in touch and inform you if this threat is neutralized.”

He walks out, followed by Morgan. But the others linger for a moment.

“You’re taking all of this surprisingly well,” Rossi points out. “Ever consider becoming a profiler?”

I chuckle. “I did once, a few years ago. Sociology is one of my favorite subjects to learn, but I’ve just used that as a hobby. When I looked further into the job description I decided I wanted a career that wouldn’t take so much out of my free time. So for now I’m sticking with dental hygiene.”

He nods. “Well if you change your mind, here’s my card.” He hands me his contact info and exits after the other 2 agents.

“Tell me- where did you get your shoes?” Garcia asks when she points to my feet.

“Oh. Um, Goodwill actually.” I’m a bit embarrassed to say I’m a thrifter, but in college all money must go to classes.

“They’re so cute! I’ll email you my list of favorite thrift websites later,” she remarks as she walks to the door.

“B- But Agent Garcia you don’t have my email-?”

“I’ll find it.” She winks. “And call me Penelope!”

She gives Reid a smirk and shuts the door, leaving me alone with the last agent.

“I gotta ask, how old are you?”

My blunt question doesn’t seem to be new to him. “30.”

I was right!

“Sorry for asking, but it’s just very different-”

“To see someone like me on a government bureau team,” he finishes. “It’s ok, lots of people ask. I could say the same thing about you.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He mirrors my confusion. “Aren’t you close to my age?”

“I’m 22.”

Reid’s eyes widen. “No way! You look- I mean, you seem- Um… you don’t act 22.”

I chuckle and go to grab my backpack. “I get that a lot. My mom says I’m more mature than most people my age, which means I have to be forced to associate with immature peers. I just hope other people never assume I’m the typical college type. You know, drugs, drinking, sex, procrastination. I’ve never even gone to one party. I apologize for the idiots you might come across here.”

I expect the FBI agent to leave it at that and go off to find his team, but instead he jogs up behind and walks with me down the hall.

“No I don’t see you like that, it’s just… you’re definitely more mature, and seem more clear-headed than the other students I’ve seen here so far.

I hold my head back and laugh. “Oh, no. By no means am I as smart as you might think. I have what I call ‘selective knowledge.’ I never picked just one topic I like, so I find bits and pieces of information about all kinds of topics. But not too much in depth that I’m an expert. With what I know about you so far I’d say you’re way more smart.”

He looks down. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Spill it. What’s your education background?”

“Um… I’ve got PhDs in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. Bachelor’s in psychology, sociology, and in the process of one in philosophy.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him with wide eyes. “And you’re downplaying that? Jesus, you’ve got more knowledge stuffed in your brain then I’d ever have in 5 lifetimes! Why choose a job in the BAU?”

He considers this. “I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror.”

I nod. “It’s nice to know what type of job works best. I’ve jumped around different jobs, and still haven’t found one that fits right. As for the terror thing, props to you for dealing with that on a daily basis.”

Dr. Reid seems surprised. “Hm. You don’t mind crazy talk, do you?”

I stifle a laugh and hold the next door open for him to pass. “‘Crazy talk?’ What’s that?”

“Talking about subjects that any random passerby would find odd, like murder or psychological disease.”

“You’re talking to someone who watches The Conjuring as a comfort film. I don’t call that crazy talk, I call that enjoyable conversation,” I smile cheekily as he walks past me through the doorway. “You gonna go find your team now?”

Reid clears his throat and bites his lip. “Well, um… Since the unsub’s been sighted near the city I should make sure to get you to your dorm safely.”

This unsub must be pretty dangerous for him to be this anxious. Or is it something else that’s got him so worried? I must say it feels nice to have a smart guy to talk with who’s actually taking the time to make sure I’m safe instead of daring me to chug a beer.

“Aw, that’s sweet. But I don’t live in a dorm, I live in a small rented room downtown.”

“Really? I guess you really aren’t like normal students. So where are you going now?”

Is he asking professionally or out of curiosity?

“There’s a secret spot I have in the theatre lab. Dark and quiet with a nice table. Good for studying.”

He perks up. “Dark? Do you think you could show me?”

I shrug and start leading him to the lab, pushing my sleeve back to check my watch. “Sure, just don’t tell anyone. I like having a place where stupidity is at a minimum.”

Reid gets a wide grin on his face and follows eagerly. “Your secret’s safe with me. It’s kind of embarrassing but lately I’ve been dealing with- Oh my gosh! Are you hurt?”

I follow his gaze to my arm, which has gauze wrapped around it. I’m surprised he noticed- usually people don’t give it a second thought.

“Wha-? Oh, no. I donated plasma earlier today and have to keep this on for 2 hours.”

“I see. Do you get paid?”

“Yup. If they’re willing to pay me to sit in a chair for an hour, money is money. Gotta pay the college bills somehow. So what have you been dealing with?”

“Right. Um, I’ve had these headaches for a while now and none of the doctors I’ve seen can tell me what’s wrong. They’re triggered by bright lights, so that’s why I like to find dark places to think.”

Hearing this makes me sad, especially since a nice guy like him shouldn’t have to go through something like that.

“Then don’t have me keep ya waiting. Here we are!”

Now we’re at the theatre lab and when I open the door to let him in, Reid . “So then how are you liking your dental hygiene clinicals?”

I set my backpack down and switch a small light on. “I like it, but it’s more of a job that pays well and allows me free time. Next summer I’m looking into a program that gives me a certificate in culinary pastry design-” I stop myself before I start ranting. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk your ear off. People don’t always listen this long so I usually just talk to keep away any awkward silence. Americans are intimidated by it, you know.”

Agent Reid just nods and sits down on a nearby stool. “I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”

“But it’s not as intellectual as you’re used to.”

“Maybe not, but- how should I describe it? You’re like a funfetti cake.”

Reid’s analogy makes me giggle and give him an odd look. “Um, thanks? How so?”

“Because you’re not just one flavor. You bring a sprinkling of all different topics, and none of them are boring or immature. Go ahead, continue.” Reid sits back as if he’s sitting in for a lecture, and I’m the teacher.

“Um… ok. So anyways, between work, school, and all my other hobbies it’s no surprise when I keep telling my mom I haven't gone on a date-”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid interrupts. “You’ve never gone on a date?”

I try to ignore the heat rushing to my cheeks and go turn on the music speaker. “Never got a chance to. Back in high school I was more introverted and read all the time. Now no one wants to be around a boring, mature college student who dresses… like this.” I gesture to my unusual outfit.

“Hm. I’d think you would’ve been able to find at least one decent guy.”

I’m not sure if he’s kidding or just trying to be nice.

“Don’t make me laugh. Even the few guys I’ve talked to see me as a colleague or acquaintance, not even friendship status. I’ve steered clear of all the red flags and bad habits college kids typically get into, and it’s gotten me this far. All I’ve got is some family, my cat, and my brain.”

Reid doesn’t say anything, and a part of me is glad for it while the other half is a nervous wreck. While I don’t want to really get into the details of my miserable social life, at the same time I’m strangely anxious about what the handsome doctor thinks of me.

“It’s the musical season, isn’t it? I can tell you’re a fan.” How does he-? “I’m guessing on account of the Newsies sticker on your water bottle and your outfit that resembles Veronica Sawyer from Heathers.”

A smile grows on my face. “Oh! A profiling genius and a theatre fan! You’ve got quite the brain, Dr. Reid.”

“I actually only recently got interested in it after watching one of Garcia’s plays- oh! You actually remembered!” Reid scratches his head and smiles. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“People don’t always address me by my full title. So what’s on your agenda now?” He seems to rethink and adds: “Not that I’m being nosy!”

His curiosity isn’t uncomfortable for me. If anything it’s nice to have someone take an interest.

“I was going to practice for musical auditions, but since you’re here I’ll just do some homework.”

“Oh I don’t mind! Really! I won’t laugh, promise,” Reid says sincerely.

“No, no. I do my best work alone, as always.”

He frowns. “That’s not a healthy mindset.”

I chuckle darkly. “I’m not exactly the ‘teamwork makes the dreamwork’ kinda gal. I’ve always done best on my own, so I don’t argue it-”

“Attention, attention!” The intercom starts blasting an alarm overhead. “There has been a potential shooter spotted near the edge of campus. All students, staff, and visitors are to head immediately towards a sheltered area. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!”

Agent Reid immediately goes alert and checks his pistol. “We better get to a more secure location. Come with me!”

He goes for the door, but I don’t see a reason to leave.

“No, you go find your team. I’ll stay here. It’s a hidden spot, anyway.”

But Reid shakes his head with concern and takes my hand. “No, I can’t allow that. If the unsub is here he’ll go after you. You’re his type, Marrian, and I won’t let you get hurt.”

Wow. I’m sure he’s just doing his job. Still it’s becoming incredibly difficult to ignore the growing affection for the geeky agent. And it doesn't help that normally I’m a very anti-touching person.

He pulls out a cell phone and dials a number. “Hotch, this is Reid. What’s your location?” After a few moments he says: “Yes, I’m here with the student we interviewed in the theatre lab. We’ll meet you there. Yeah I know, we’ll be careful.” Reid seems to notice my slight reaction to his physical touch and his hold tightens. “I need you to stick close to me, understand?”

I nod and follow him out. “This is… definitely not what I planned for a regular Friday evening, but as my mom always says I need to stay open-minded. Lead the way, Dr. Reid!”

His stern face lightens by a fraction. “Um, you can call me Spencer if you want.”

Is- Is he trying to flirt? Seriously, I wouldn’t know. Somebody tell me!

“Isn’t that less professional? I thought you FBI guys were all suits and no humor.”

He doesn’t answer and triple-checks the hallway before signaling the all-clear. We quietly make our way to the main office, and the whole time I’m trying to ignore Reid’s hand clutching mine.

“We'll be able to-”

“Look out!” I push Spencer out of the way just as a bullet flies past my head, but I’m not too lucky with the second one. It buries itself in my left shoulder blade and the sudden force sends me crashing to the cold floor.

“Oh my God!” Reid shouts and kneels down to address my wound.

“Well hello, my pretty,” a deep sinister voice chuckles. A figure in a black hood lurks out from the corner, with a hunting rifle pointed directly at Spencer.

“I’ve gone too far this time, too far to disappear. But I’ve got one more chance, right? That’s right.” He points at me, the gun wedged pointed on his shoulder. “I’ve been watching you, girly. And I like you. Your healthy diet is most delightful, and…” He gets a twisted look with a sinister smile on his face. “Such a pretty face…”

“You leave her alone!” Reid speaks sternly.

I turn to find him pointing his pistol at the unsub, but the man just laughs.

“My my, Dr. Reid. You’ve grown quite attached to this woman. I’m almost sad to have to kill her and end such a blooming young love.”

Love? I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but he’s creeping me out! Still not what I planned for a regular Friday evening…

The unsub starts to creep closer, and before I know it I’m backed against the wall with Spencer at my right.

“Don’t you touch her!” Reid shouts. “Stand back or I will shoot!”

“Oh no you won’t, Dr. Reid!” The unsub turns angry. “You won’t, or else I will skip my evening meal and blow a hole in this girl’s brain right now!”

He’s going to kill me… Eat me… Oh God. But I can’t let him hurt Spencer. His life is worth a thousand times more, and I couldn’t stand to see him get hurt.

The unsub is still focused on Spencer, so while he’s distracted I slowly inch my hand towards my skirt, almost to my concealed pistol-

Bam!

The unsub fires what seems like a warning shot and in the sudden chaos Reid fires his gun too. Reid doesn’t get shot, and instead his own bullet buries itself in the unsub’s calf. He stumbles out of sight around the corner.

“Quick! In here!” Reid pulls me into a nearby classroom and shuts the door. “Are you in pain?”

Yes! Every inch of skin in my shoulder is screaming at me and the adrenaline is starting to wear off, allowing the pain to escalate. But I need Reid to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine…” My head starts to feel dizzy and I put a hand to my shoulder, pulling it away to find it covered in blood.

“No you’re not fine. Here-” Spencer takes off his tie and does a makeshift tourniquet near my acromial region. “It won’t last long, but it’s the best I can do.” He kneels down and starts searching through his pockets. “I’m all out of bullets!”

“My… my skirt. Under my skirt…”

He lifts the fabric up to reveal my pistol. “When did you get that?”

“Since I turned 21, but I’m too dizzy to shoot it. Take it!” Reid removes my pistol from its holster, using careful hands to show modest intentions. “Now go. Go stop him.”

“But if you don’t keep appropriate pressure on it then you could bleed out!”

“Just go! I’ll figure it out. I don’t care if I pass out, you gotta go stop him and end this.”

I’m pretty sure Reid’s now speaking through panic mode. “No you can’t die! I still need to ask you out!” Did I hear that right?

“You- what? I think I’m starting to blank out. You need to what?”

But Reid doesn’t answer. He just rubs a hand through his messy hair in frustration, while all I can do is slowly slip in and out of consciousness. When he’s decided his next move he leans down and kisses my forehead, and if it weren’t such an unusual situation I’d actually have butterflies in my stomach.

“I’ll be right back, Merrian. I promise.”

And just like that he sprints out. I don’t know how long it’s been, but soon I hear gunshots in the hall and all I can do before I pass out is pray that Spencer’s ok…

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’ll live.”

“Quiet an injury. She’s lucky you were with her.”

“And where is she going to?”

My mind buzzes to life and I start to become aware of my surroundings, opening my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed. My arm has an IV. More than likely they’ve given me morphine for pain control. But the biggest relief is when I see Reid talking to one of the doctors at the foot of the bed.

“Spencer… you’re ok,” I croak through a groggy voice.

He notices I’m awake and quickly rushes over to give me a gentle hug. I see he has no wounds, another relief.

“God Merrian, I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you-” He whispers into my hair.

“No, don’t worry about me. You did all you could, Spencer. Is the unsub taken care of?”

He nods repeatedly. “Yeah. I shot him dead right after I left, but by the time I got back you’d already blacked out-”

“Excuse me sir,” the doctor steps forward. “I’m afraid she has to be transferred now.”

I look up with wide eyes. “Transferred? Where? What do you mean?”

“The bullet nicked one of your main arteries,” the doctor explains in a calm voice. “We don’t have the proper tools or expertise to perform the surgery on your shoulder, so you are being transferred to Grand Rapids.

“Then I’m going with her,” Reid pipes up.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you are a guardian or next of kin then you cannot accompany the patient-”

“She’s the victim of a BAU unsub. That makes this a government matter so I should be able to find an excuse to go-”

“No you can’t, Reid.”

We all turn and find Agent Hotchner, along with the rest of the BAU team, walking into the room.

“We’ve been called back to Quantico. I’m afraid you need to say your goodbyes now.”

Spencer and I exchange disappointed looks, but I figure good things must come to an end. All this unsub business is enough excitement to last me a long time, even though I am sad to see the handsome agent go.

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.” I give him a small smile. “Go do what you do best.”

He nods, seeming to debate something in his head. “I- I’m glad I got to meet you, Merrian.”

I chuckle. “I should be the one saying that about you, the great Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer returns my laughter and takes my hand again. “Feel better. I know from personal experience that recovering from a gunshot is no easy task. I’ll come visit as soon as I have free time. And… I’d like to take you out sometime, maybe someplace where you won’t get shot?”

His question is asked as if it’s a simple classroom inquiry, but it’s making my heart jump (unfortunately shown by the heartbeat monitor). I can tell Reid’s nervous just as I am, but I know it’s all part of the dating ritual.

“I’d like that.”

He cocks his head. “What part?”

“The not being shot part is definitely a perk, but I’d like to finally go on my first date. With you.”

Spencer gets excited and I can already see the wheels spinning in his head just as Agent Hotchner calls for Reid to get going.

“I- I’ll see you later, then! Hope you won’t mind me ranting about literature by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

I squeeze his hand just as the paramedics start to get me ready to leave. “It’s a date, Spencer.”

Reid’s POV

The ride on the Jet is quiet, and as usual I chose to read alone in a corner. This time I’ve chosen Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie, most appropriate for the upcoming holiday in a few weeks.

“Hey loverboy! You gonna join us for a card game?” Morgan smirks from the table. “Or is your head too fuzzy thinking about your new friend?”

“You do know I could still beat you, right?” I ask matter-of-factly.

“Screw cards! I wanna hear all about the boy genius’ new girlfriend!” Garcia giggles.

I just shake my head and turn back to my book, ignoring their gossiping chatter. I won’t let their teasing get to me. Ever since Emily died my mind’s been in a fog, but meeting Merrian seemed to snap me back into reality. Give me something to hope for. All I know is I can’t wait to get time off so I can see her again…

#criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fandom

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littlemisspascal · 7 months

Text

Rockford & Roan Pt. 4

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count:2.8k

Summary: “Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, references of dead bodies + suicide, police, HTTYD reference, scars

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you so so much for all the kind support 💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Case

You take possession of one of Rockford’s spare notebooks, yellow and spiral bound, scribbling down details about the case he’s been asked by the police to help investigate.

7 suicides over the past 8 months

Unsure why the brief lapse during the third month

Perhaps to throw police off potential trail?

Victims are all different ages, backgrounds, careers

Also found dead in different locations across Fox Leap—alleyways, parking lots, isolated spots

No witnesses

No suicide notes left behind

Single commonality: all died by ingesting a cyanide pill

Suspects? None

Police aren’t convinced deaths are connected

Rockford is certain they are

I don’t know what to think

The Invitation

Friday evening finds you job hunting across the internet from the comfort of the couch. It’s another one of the steps of Dr. Odair’s grand therapy plan to reintegrate you into society. Of course, what she failed to mention was that the potential career opportunities for ex-military empaths are few and far between. You lean back against the cushion, resisting the urge to grab your mug of tea and pour it onto your laptop. It’s not the computer’s fault there’s a prejudice against those with mind-gifts after all.

The squeaks of Banjo’s stuffed toy pull your attention towards the dog rolling around on the floor, his beloved plush panda Bamboo held between his paws, teeth gnawing at its leg. Rockford lies stretched out on the white rug nearby, eyes closed, the picture perfect example of tranquility. He isn’t sleeping—you can tell by the tapping of his fingers against his stomach, a song only he knows—but it’s nice to pretend. For all that you’ve pestered him with questions about his job and for all that Rockford has patiently answered each one without even the tiniest thrum of irritation, his bizarre, seemingly nonexistent sleeping schedule is a topic you’ve yet to broach with him.

Brown eyes snap open, startling you so badly it’s a miracle your laptop isn’t sent crashing to the floor. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Rockford’s on his feet and stalking off down the hallway in a blur. You blink, caught off guard, and exchange a look with an equally bewildered Banjo. Should you follow after him or…?

A knock on the front door makes the decision for you.

The prospect of a guest sends Banjo into a tizzy, ditching Bamboo without remorse, tail wagging so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t fly off. You can’t exactly blame him. Other than a quick visit from the landlady to give you your own set of keys and introduce herself— Professor Rosasharn Claremont, an instructor of forensic sciences at the local university with prehensile hair she used to slap the back of Rockford’s head for not visiting her enough—nobody’s knocked on the door as long as you’ve lived here.

You’re not sure who’s brain function shorts out first when you open the door: yours or the unknown man wearing a police badge on his belt. He’s middle-aged, dirty blond hair, a scar twisting along in a distorted line from the left side of his mouth to his ear. A hideous mark, but at the same time intriguing in its uniqueness. You can’t help but think how if it was copied onto the right side, it’d almost look like some kind of villainous grin.

Banjo’s attempt of squeezing between your leg and the doorway to get a good sniff of the man is enough to jumpstart you back into motion. Nudging him away with your socked foot, you tell him to return to his bed, punctuating the command with a firm point of your finger. Only once he sullenly pads away, ears drooped as if you’ve just gutted Bamboo right in front of him with a butcher knife, do you turn back to face the policeman, who appears to have also gotten over his initial surprise.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Inspector,” he corrects with an accent you can’t quite place, almost like a rumbling sort of growl, but despite the harsh sound his tone is polite as he introduces himself. “Inspector Dorrance with the Fox Leap Police Department. I’m here for Tim Rockford.”

His emotions are almost unnaturally steady, like he’s got the internal parts of a clock ticking away rather than temperamental hormones. You figure he must’ve gone through some sort of training course for mood management. Smart. A lawman with a high pressure job, anger issues, and a loaded gun is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Oh, is this about the case?” you ask with far more perkiness in your voice than you intend.

“He told you about that, did he,” Inspector Dorrance says in the exact same instant that Rockford calls out from the depths of the apartment, “Get to the point why you’re here, Kez.”

Kez? You mouth to yourself before opening the door wider, inviting the inspector to step inside. He isn’t subtle as he looks around, gaze lingering noticeably on the few personal items of yours spread throughout the room, before he turns towards the hall.

“Another body’s been found. Abandoned warehouse near the wharf.”

“And?” Rockford asks, still out of view.

Dorrance side-eyes you, clearly debating with himself the legalities of discussing an open case with a civilian present. A civilian he clearly knew nothing about as of two minutes ago. You offer up only silence in response, too curious for your own good to leave without him directly asking.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Your roommate emerges from his office, his trench coat gripped in one hand and mouth fixed in an unimpressed frown. He gestures between you and the inspector. “Kez, my current roommate and match, Roan. Roan, my ex-roommate and one of the only competent members of law enforcement in the city, Keziah. Can we get back to the victim now?”

Your eyes widen. Ex-roommate? How long have they known each other? There’s definitely a story there.

“I’m sorry,” Dorrance begins, “did you just say she’s your match? When the hell were you going to tell me this happened?”

“Apparently not,” Rockford mutters. “I was going to tell you when it came up. And it just did.”

“You—” Dorrance cuts himself off with a sharp exhale through his nose.

It really is a credit to Dorrance’s mood management training his emotions don’t even so much as dip or catch fire. Instead, he shoots Rockford a look that plainly says, We’re going to be talking about this later, and then turns to face you once more.

“I wish we were meeting on better circumstances. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you since you’re his match that underneath this—” he gestures vaguely at Rockford which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Dorrance carries on, unbothered, “—is a giant question mark nobody will ever find the answer to. But if I were to bet on anyone coming close, I’d put my money on you.”

“Thank you, I think,” you say, daring a quick glance at Rockford’s face, which you’re pleased to notice has softened the tiniest bit. “You’ll be the first one I tell if I do.”

For whatever reason, your answer has the inspector immediately smirking, left side of his face stretched tight due to the scar tissue.

“Kez, in addition to being a recurring pain in my side,” Rockford explains, sensing your confusion, “is also a lie detector. Any hint of dishonesty and his gift’ll catch it. Makes him handy in the interrogation room.”

Gifts can be interesting like that sometimes, lining up perfectly with a specific job. A singer with the ability to alter their voice to any pitch, a fireman with an immunity to burns, a veterinarian who can speak to animals–you’ve seen them all. Human lie detector is a new one though, you’ll admit.

Dorrance shoves a hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone vibrating with an incoming text. He scans the message, smirk wiped off his face and replaced with grimness.

“Right, back to the reason I came over,” he says briskly, tucking his cell away again. “You know how the victims never leave notes?”

“Yes.” Rockford’s listening attentively, eyes narrowed. “What of it?”

“This one did.”

Rockford’s expression doesn’t change, not even a twitch of his brow. His mind though, oh his mind’s the calm before the storm. Something’s beginning to stir awake underneath the surface. Tempted by the reveal, hungry for more details to dig its teeth into.

For weeks you’ve wondered about the depths unknown to your empathy, about what lurks there. You’ve got a distinct, icy certainty crawling up your spine you’re soon to discover another side of your match previously unseen.

“Will you come to the scene?” Dorrance asks hopefully.

“Of course. No point sitting at home when there’s an exciting development going on.” Rockford begins slipping his arms through the sleeves of his trench coat, adjusting the collar to his liking. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been down to the wharf.”

“Just try not to piss off anyone, will you? One dead body is enough to deal with as it is.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Rockford says with a wry grin. Then, turning to you, he arches an eyebrow, “Well, Roan, you got any plans this evening?”

You think of your laptop back on the couch, numerous job sites still left to be checked.

“Uh, no,” you answer, shaking your head. “Not really.”

“Roan was in the military,” your roommate tells the inspector, but his eyes remain held on your face, a speculating glint in them that has you subconsciously straightening up. Almost as if you’re standing at attention. “You saw a lot of violent deaths, didn’t you?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Witnessed several dangerous situations?”

“Worst of the worst. Stuff of pure nightmares.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming heavier. There’s a crime scene needing to be examined, a case to be closed, and yet everything seems to have slowed down all at once. As if the very air itself has frozen solid. And you realize you’re holding your breath, waiting for something.

“Want to see some more?”

An invitation.

Dr. Odair’s been telling you now that you’ve matched and your mind-gift has become more manageable, it’s time to pick up some hobbies. To go out to more places for fun other than just the library and dog park. No doubt she was probably thinking of safe and relaxing options like chess or badminton or pottery classes at the rec center.

The problem though, is that safe and relaxing doesn’t spark a wildfire in your blood, bringing you back to the days where you had a clear purpose to fulfill and problems to deal with head-on. You want another adventure, and here’s one dangling right in front of you, just waiting for you to say—

“Hell yes,” you blurt out, and even without your mind-gift you can tell Rockford’s happy with your choice by the half curl of his mouth and crinkling around his eyes as he asks Dorrance for the address.

The Doubt

Rockford holds the cab door open for you, sliding in after you’ve settled against the plush seat with Banjo secure in your lap. The little mutt’s tail beats a rhythm against your jacket, excited about the trip even if he has no clue the final destination. You’re still not convinced bringing a dog of all creatures to an active crime scene investigation is the wisest move, but let the record show your roommate has a helluva weakness for Banjo’s puppy eyes.

“Keziah’s team of imbeciles disguised as CSIs are wreaking havoc on the scene as we speak. I highly doubt there’s much more damage Banjo can cause,” Rockford had said with an amused look when you voiced your concern. “Besides, no man left behind. Isn’t that the military creed?”

And well, he wasn’t wrong about that. (Not to mention, you’ve got a pretty big weakness for Banjo’s sweet brown eyes too…)

The drive to the wharf is brief without too much annoying traffic. Outside, the sun’s dipped out of sight and darkness is enveloping the city, street lights blinking on. Inside, it’s quiet except for a country song playing lowly on the radio. The cabbie’s mood is easygoing if not a little bogged down by exhaustion whereas Banjo’s is a bouncy spring of enthusiasm, nose practically pressed against the window as his eyes struggle to keep up with all the sights rolling past. Still, as entertaining as the pup’s emotions are, your mind-gift continues circling back to the man sitting next you like a homing pigeon.

Nothing’s changed within his mindscape during the journey. The calm, almost eerie stillness from before is still in effect. You can tell he’s thinking about something—the man’s never not thinking—but whatever it is clouding his gaze, furrowing his brow, is not disturbing enough to imprint upon your empathy. It’s moments like this one where you wish you were a mind reader, if only for a few seconds.

“We’re here,” Rockford announces, paying the cabbie his fare.

Scrambling out of the vehicle, you set Banjo down on the ground. While he performs a full-bodied shake, you take in the cluster of police cars and flashing lights and abundance of barricade tape surrounding a warehouse, derelict and foreboding, along the waterfront. The press have also caught wind of the scene, prowling around with their microphones and cameras like vultures. You swallow, subconsciously twisting the leash around your fingers.

You’d wanted an adventure and yet…this is all so very, very different from a battlefield. It’s a whole other form of organized chaos, and it’s terrifying not having the slightest clue how to safely navigate it.

Your initial fears were misplaced. It won’t be Banjo making a mess. It will be you.

Rockford starts forward, clearly eager to get to work, only to halt after five steps when you fail to follow. He turns around to look you over from head to toe, carefully nudging at your mind-gift as he does so, confusion only deepening when he fails to understand your lack of movement. “Is something the matter?”

You bite your lip, glancing nervously once more between the hive of activity and his steady brown eyes. “I don’t think I belong here.”

Rockford stares at you, the glow of the street light illuminating one side of his face.

“Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Your head’s already shaking aggressively before a response forms. “N-no, absolutely not!” you say hastily, frantic to assure him of the truth. You close the gap of distance, hoping somehow being closer will remedy the spiraling situation, but when that doesn’t smoothen out the wrinkles on his forehead your empathy reacts by hurling a tangled ball of loyalty-friendship-safety-contentment straight at him. The most desperate of Hail Mary plays.

Rockford sucks in a breath. You watch his expression spasm, knocked off-kilter, before it settles into something as exasperated as it is fond. This time, the nudge against your mind-gift is firmer, the only warning you get before the ball you’d thrown returns and smacks you square in the chest.

“Oh,” is your immediate reaction, breathless from the intensity.

What was it he had said before? You and him are two halves of the same whole.

And then there’s a warm hand on top of your head, gentle, affectionate, and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. You blink up at Rockford, heart thudding in your chest.

“That’s right. You,” he says slowly, purposefully, “belong anywhere I am. Banjo, too.”

Banjo woofs, baring his teeth in a snaggletoothed grin, and you’d chuckle at that if you had any air left in your lungs. Not for the first time, you cannot help but marvel at your match’s realness. There’s no such thing as perfection, but you think he comes pretty damn close.

“Now you’ve done it,” you aim for humor, but you can’t shake the wobble from your voice. “You'll never know a moment’s peace again.”

“Ah, peace is overrated,” Rockford declares with an unconcerned shrug, hand returning to the pocket of his trench coat. “So, we’re in agreement then. We’re stuck with each other.”

“Mhmm, no take backsies.”

You needed this moment, this reassurance. The doubts you hadn’t even known you carried have been firmly put to rest, vanquished by the proof he values the soulbond tying your lives together just as much as you do.

But despite the importance of this conversation you can’t keep ignoring the flashing lights up ahead forever. Your eyes slide past Rockford, spotting Inspector Dorrance in his grey suit amongst the sea of navy uniformed officers gesturing with his arms.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice where you go,” Rockford says, and it’s clear he’s made up his own mind by the way he turns away from you, resuming his walk towards the scene.

You watch the dramatic flaring of the bottom of his coat with each step, watch the tapping of his fingers against his left thigh, watch as the man tosses one last remark over his shoulder:

“Keep up, Roan. We both know you’re coming with me.”

By the time he reaches the barricade tape, you and Banjo are right by his side. Exactly where you both belong.

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x ofc #tim rockford fanfiction #pedrostories #my writing #my fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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sebsallowapologist · 10 months

Text

The Older Sallow

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Rated: 18+

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death/murder, at first this was going to be a fun little Sebastian jealousy fit but then it got angsty, oops,

Sebastian’s older brother comes back to reconnect with his brother after the death of their Uncle Solomon. Sebastian tries to make peace but it seems his brother can’t help but flirt with his girlfriend.

(Older Sallow brother inspired by this from @deathlysallows - the whole post is seriously amazing.)

When Sebastian was young he used to worship the ground his brother walked on. Six years older than him and Anne, Henry was everything Sebastian wanted to be, until their parents died.

Before they passed Sebastian had worshipped the ground Henry walked on. He was cool, knew how to talk to girls, and was one hell of a quidditch player. But after the Professors died, and the kids were moved into Solomon’s home in Feldcroft Henry become more distant. Never coming home from school for the holidays. Spending summer breaks working with friends - always an excuse to not come home. Henry dropped out of school his sixth year, and after that wouldn't even respond to Sebastian or Anne’s owls. Suddenly Sebastian was invisible. He felt like he’d lost his parents and his brother in one swoop.

He was 10 when Sebastian stopped hearing from his brother, until one morning at his sixth year, a letter was dropped off next to his plate one autumn morning.

The name above the return address in the upper left corner made him freeze.

H. Sallow.

“Right Sebastian?” His girlfriend asks. “Sebastian?”

“I’m sorry darling, what was that?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the cream envelope in his hands. “I said it’s quite cold today - are you alright?”

“Yeah uh- I just remembered that I left my charms book in my room. I’ll meet you there, yeah?” He says, hopping up from his seat and giving her a quick peck.

Ominis furrows his eyebrows. “Sebastian?”

“I’ll see you there!” Sebastian reiterates, waving behind him as he walks out of the great hall.

He makes it down the hallway and ducks behind a statue, ripping the letter open now that he has a semblance of privacy.

Baz-

I’m going to be in Hogsmeade next week, I have to visit for work and I thought we should get together. Catch up as brothers and all. I’ll be staying at the Hog’s Head Inn.

Let’s meet on Friday for a drink. Anne tells me you have quite the pretty girlfriend, she’s of course welcome as well.

-H

Anne? Henry had been in contact with Anne?

Sebastian stuffs his note in the inside pocket of his robe and turns, making his way to class before his head starts to spin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Later that night Sebastian and MC are relaxing in the Slytherin Common room, MC resting most of her body on Sebastian’s as she reads from her novel, and he thumbs through his ancient runes notes.

“My brother send me a letter.” He brings up quietly, breaking the peaceful silence. MC’s head shoots up to look at her boyfriend, locking eyes with the brunet. “Brother? You have a brother?”

“I do. Henry, he’s six older than me.”

“How do I not know you have a brother?”

Sebastian shrugs, trying to wave off the history he has with his older sibling. He never liked talking about his brother, keeping his mind from wandering on where he was, or if he was alright. Ominis was the only one he’s ever really spoken to about Henry. He rarely even brought up the subject with Anne.

“He moved out a while ago, we’ve grown apart.” He says casually. “But he’s uh- spoken to Anne and I want to see if, maybe, he says something that could help us be... normal again.”

“That’s great, Seb.” She smiles, patting him on the chest. “It’ll be nice to talk to family.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, not really believing the chat will be all that nice. “Would you come with me? It’s at Hog’s Head on Friday.”

MC grabs his hand and squeezes, “I’d love to go with you.”

Sebastian squeezes her hand back, kissing her knuckles before he returns to his notes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

On Friday MC follows her boyfriend into the run down pub in the Hog’s Head Inn, scanning the room for whoever could be Sebastian’s mystery brother. She spent the last week trying to wrap her head around the fact that he boyfriend had a while sibling she didn’t know about. She knew how much Sebastian missed his sister, maybe reconnecting with an estranged brother could help heal that hole in his heart a bit.

MC was thrown. The man in front of her looked just like Sebastian, but he was just.. older. More mature, he was just Sebastian but... filled out. Well cared for stubble graced the man’s chin, making him look just the right amount of rugged. Familiar warm brown eyes met hers and a smile made the freckles on his cheeks dance. He was dressed well, keeping up with the most up to date fashion trends, wearing nothing that would be sold in Hogsmeade.

“Sebastian!” The man says standing up from his seat at a table next to the big window. Sebastian drop’s MC’s hand to hug his brother, clapping his hand on the man’s back.

It’s like all the nerves had melted off of Sebastian as they hugged, like the time wore on both of them.

They pull apart and his brother turns his eyes on MC. “Merlin, Anne was right she really is a beauty.” MC blushes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Anne’s very sweet.”

“Henry. Henry Sallow.” the man says, pulling MC into a hug. “Oh!” She says, surprised at the contact with the borderline stranger. He’s practically holding her up in his arms, her toes were the only part of her touching the ground anymore.

She chokes out her name as an introduction and Sebastian puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder, signaling him it was time to let go. He lets MC down, but his hand lingers on her lower back. Despite the warm greeting, Sebastian has the urge to cut his brother’s hand off at the wrist.

“Sit! Sit! I have some fire whiskeys coming for us.” Henry says, sitting back down in his chair. He turns his attention toward MC, angling his body to face her. “So tell me about yourself, you’re a Slytherin?”

“Uhm.” MC says, she wasn’t expecting to be the one in the line of questioning. Looking at Sebastian she tries to catch his eyes, but he’s looking off at the wall, studying a picture like it’s his favorite book. An intensity in his eyes she’d never quite seen before.

“Yes, I’m a Slytherin. It’s how I met Sebastian. It’s so nice you reached out so you two can connect.” She smiles, trying to kick the conversation onto the reason they’re all here. Sebastian looks back at his brother, waiting for him to say something.

“I was a Gryffindor back in the day. I was actually quite shocked when Anne and Sebastian were both Slytherin. They must take after our parents more that I.”

“Ah. Okay.” MC says, sitting back in her chair. Okay, Handsome? Yes. Smart? Maybe not. She feel’s Sebastian’s leg bouncing under the table and she puts a hand on his knee.

The contact snaps Sebastian out of whatever disassociation he was swimming in and he locks eyes with his brother. “Why are you here, Henry?”

“I told you, I’m here for work.”

“No. Why are you here as in why are you here, inviting me for a drink like we haven’t seen each other in six years!”

“A man can’t want to catch up with his only brother? You’ve grown!”

“Be serious, Henry. You don’t disappear for six years and then talk to me like nothing’s happened.” Any good feelings had ended at that hug.

Henry’s face fell, no longer trying to be charming about any of this. He leans his forearms on the table. “Anne told me what happened last spring, what happened to Solomon.”

Sebastian jumped back in his seat like Henry had slapped him.

“No. No.” Henry says, putting his hand on Sebastian’s forearm. “I just- Anne found me looking for family. She’s alright? I have her staying with me in London.”

“London?” MC can practically see Sebastian’s wheels start turning on how he’s going to get to London to see his sister.

“I think you did the right thing.” Henry tells him, and Sebastian stills. He pulls his arm away from Henry’s embrace.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asks and MC coughs, catching the waitress come around with the fire whiskey. “Sh!” She says and the boys stop, sitting up straight in their seats.

As soon as the drinks are down the two of them take the small glass in their hand and knock back the drink, putting the glasses back down on the table at the same time. Merlin, as tense as this all was it was like seeing the same man six years apart.

“Anne is upset now, but she’ll get over it. You know how dramatic she always was.” Henry says, shaking his head with a smile on his face like he was recalling a lifetimes worth of memories with Anne.

“How are you so unserious about this?” MC whispers, sitting back in her chair and taking her fire whiskey in one go as well.

Henry opens his mouth but Sebastian’s cutting him off. “Are you bloody kidding me? I did- what I did was horrible. I have nightmares about it, I feel- so much guilt and it’s nothing to you?”

“I’m just not surprised. You know how Solomon was.” Henry says defensively.

“And don’t tell me Anne is being dramatic, she has every right to hate me.” Sebastian’s hands were shaking. “You show up here, after not talking to me for ages, flirt with my girlfriend, and then tell me the thing thats been keeping me up at night isn’t a big deal?”

“Sebastian.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Sebastian spits, standing up at the table and turning on his heel, grabbing MC’s hand in the process.

“I’m your brother!” Henry shouts.

“I don’t have a brother.” Sebastian answers, his voice unwavering.

His holds onto her hand tightly, walking them quickly out of the Inn and to the nearest Floo Flame, taking them both to the room of requirement in silence.

Once they’re there MC just stares at her boyfriend. She doesn’t know what to say, she can’t even tell how he’s feeling, he’s looking behind her, his hands in fists at his side. “Sometimes.” MC mutters. “It just helps me to scream-”

She can’t even finish her sentence before Sebastian is letting out an earth shattering scream. She clamps her hands over her ears and waits for him to be done before wrapping her arms around his middle.

“I’m sorry your brother is a prick.” She mumbles into his sweater.

“Me too.” He sighs, resting his cheek on the top of her head. They’re quite for a few moments. “Did I see you looking all Doe eyed at him?”

MC blushes. “No.”

“Liar.” he mumbles.

“Well, I just thought that maybe you could grow one of those little beards?” She mumbles and Sebastian chuckles.

“Even if he’s handsome he’s a right git.” She tells him, and gets on her tip toes to give him a kiss.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #Sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #Hogwarts legacy fic

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daenysx · 20 days

Note

I just wanna kiss james !! Or Robb !!! Like I know it would be so sweet esp on lazy nights on Fridays after a long day :(( ilysm gorgeous !

i love u too, thank you so much for requesting angel!! if you have any robb stark requests please send them lovelies!

robb stark x fem!reader, modern au - fluff and a bit suggestive at the end ♡

robb swears everything tests his patience today.

how much can a person deal with misfortunes in one single day? he woke up with a stupid headache, you were at your own apartment so he didn't get to see you first thing in the morning, his shirt wasn't neatly pressed as he likes, and his morning coffee had too much milk.

things at the office had been hectic too; he had to deal with too many people who were only after his name and nothing more, jon didn't come at all because he was sick, his assistant also took a day off so robb had to plan everything. it is maddening at this point and robb thinks he'll never make it home.

but, well- he does make it home somehow.

it's a friday night, meaning he doesn't need to leave his apartment all day long and if you agree, he'll plan a long day of staying in bed with you. he loosens up his tie, throws his suit jacket on the couch, and follows the smell of pesto until he gets into the kitchen.

there you are, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and his old football team t-shirt he wore back in university. he adores the sight, you are stirring the sauce in a huge pan and the kettle is turned on. his shoulders curve slightly, his back dies to get free of the tension he held all day.

you finally see him when the kettle stops and you turn around. you are quick to give him a hug, arms wrapped around his neck as you kiss the skin next to his ear. robb welcomes the hug with open arms and fond lips, he can smell your shampoo when he kisses your hair. he feels better already, the comfort of you in his home works like magic.

"hey." you mumble against his neck.

"hey." he says back. "hey, sweetheart."

"are you hungry?" you ask, leaving his arms to keep stirring the sauce. "i'm making pasta with the sauce you like, i just got back from school and i'm really hungry, i couldn't wait to cook something fancy."

you tone is sweet and teasing, the favorite one of robb's. he smiles, comes right behind you to kiss your neck from the open collar. "it smells perfect."

"yeah?" you say, smiling at his tired voice. "go change your clothes, baby, then we can set the table."

the dinner fixes almost every wrong thing in robb's head. you tell him about your day, your classes, your appointment with your professor. he talks about his morning coffee and his idiotic clients. he gossips a bit about jon and the new employee who he's absolutely sure has a crush on jon. you laugh at the jokes he makes, lips covered in sauce and cheeks blushed with the joy.

after you're finished with the dinner and the dishes, robb offers to make some tea. you sit on the couch, trying to choose a movie for the background noise. you don't think neither of you can actually manage to focus on something for two hours. you get under the huge blanket, the one you've brought from your own apartment for robb when he got so sick and needed something to keep him warm. your boyfriend thinks the cold weather would never affect him but he was wrong for that time and you were quick to show your affection with a steaming bowl of soup and a fluffy blanket.

robb comes back with two cups of tea, he puts them on the coffee table. you lift the side of the blanket for him and he sits next to you. he kisses the side of your head before taking a sip from his cup. you spend minutes on drinking tea with you playing with his curls, exchanging silent words, and sometimes commenting on the movie. it's nice to end the day with the love of your life, you think. nights like these are always peaceful with robb.

after finishing his tea, robb puts his head on your thighs. a silent indication to show you how desperate he is to feel your touch. your fingers play with his curls, you rub his forehead with a little firmer touch. he's still tense and clearly needs rest so you do your best to give him some comfort. robb closes his eyes, lost in deep pleasure he'd been dreaming all day as you rake your nails softly on his skin.

"feeling any better?" you ask silently, drawing a star on his shoulder.

he nods, a deep sound from his throat rises to tell you how perfect you are for him. "thank you, baby."

you don't think you'll ever get used to hear the word baby from robb stark's lips. his voice is silky smooth and deep, he can make you do anything only by using that voice and he chooses to call you baby. his baby, his sweetheart, his angel girl. his girl. his.

you lean in an uncomfortable angle to kiss his forehead. he opens his eyes after a few seconds and gives you a smile. it's small but still he earns a smile back from you. he sits normally on the couch, and then leans on the other side of the couch to motion his hands towards you. "come here." he says and you follow.

robb pulls you on his body; your thighs on either sides of him, your face tucked nicely to his neck, and your arms staying limp on the couch. he kisses your hair, inhales the scent of your shampoo deeply. his hands are huge and he uses them expertly to rub your back. one hand cups your neck to press lightly on your tight muscles and the other one massages your entire back with gentle fingers. you close your eyes, letting him carry all your weight. all the stress and tension melt in his arms.

"i'm gonna fall asleep." you mumble. robb only kisses your hair as a response. "i'll carry you to bed, sweetheart." he whispers. he keeps his pressure on your muscles and you feel so needy for him even though his hands are all over you.

"robb-" you start, thighs clenching unconsciously.

"shh." he says quietly. "you are too tired, don't force yourself."

you nod, he pushes his thigh in between yours to give you something to press on. it's a relief and it's working, you can feel the hard muscle of his thigh against yourself.

"but-" you say with a small yawn. "in the morning?"

robb chuckles lowly. he gives you a fond kiss on your forehead. "in the morning i'm gonna wake you up so nicely, i promise."

it's the only promise that can put you to sleep. your eyes close finally, permanent for the night. robb has always been a nice pillow for you but especially after a tired day, both of you long for the contentment of each other and it feels like magic. your head stays on his heart, his heartbeat a beautiful lullaby to dream to.

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb x reader #robb stark fluff #robb stark x you #robb stark x fem!reader #robb x you #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones fic #house stark #robb stark fic #robb stark fanfic #modern!robb stark #modern!robb stark x reader #modern!robb stark x you

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thesugarclubs-blog · 3 months

Text

Winner Takes All - Steve Rogers x OC

warnings: frat boy college steve rogers, roommates to lovers, 'it's always been you'

word count: 7.7k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1417543778-winner-takes-all-drew

Vibe: "Steve shook his head, moving to press a kiss to the small freckle at the base of her throat, "Poetry class. First year." he admitted, sitting up and meeting her gaze once more. "I didn't even know what I was doing in that class, and then this blonde firecracker sat next to me, and suddenly it turned into my favorite. She could meet me sarcastic comment for sarcastic comment, and bullied me, and made me question everything, but she also taught me more then that professor did all semester and drove me so insane that I agreed to be her roommate just to be near her."

Masterlist

Drew’s fluffy socks skimmed over the wooden floor of the apartment, hands full with four beer bottles and a bag of chips tucked under her arm.

The kitchen was quiet except for the odd noise filtering from a bedroom down the hall. A muffled but distinctive groan from her idiot of a roommate and a giggle she didn’t recognise made Drew roll her eyes as she shuffled her way back to the living room.

As she passed through she palmed one beer off to Sam, laid out on the floor with the PlayStation controller left abandoned by his side and his eyes glued to his phone, and one each to Bucky and Natasha, who had somehow managed to both fit curled up together on the armchair despite the whole couch being empty.

Friday afternoons often went like this, they’d find themselves lazing in Drew and Steve’s apartment. Sometimes they’d just stay in and sometimes their afternoon beers led to pre-drinking and bar hopping.

Their bottles were nearly empty by the time Steve and his company finally emerged, hushed voices and laughter echoing all the way to the front door before it swung swiftly closed, and Drew glanced up to see her roommate entering the living room — his dirty-blond hair disheveled, lips pink and t-shirt all askew.

“Aw, didn’t want to introduce us to your hook up, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirk on his lips as he shoved a handful of chip crumbs into his mouth.

“And put her through the pain of meeting you losers?”

Steve grinned as he hopped over the back of the couch, making himself comfy in the spot right beside Drew and plucking the beer from her hand, draining the last of it.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you have a date you should be getting ready for?” Steve countered, wiggling his eyebrows. “Patrick or Pedro or something?”

“Peter, but you knew that Steven.”

“Yep. Anyway, you don’t mind if I shower first, do you?”

He was up again before Drew could argue, rounding the couch and smacking a wet kiss to her cheek from behind.

Drew begrudgingly watched him saunter off to their shared bathroom, her attention only pulled away from Steve’s toned back when Natasha cleared her throat and Bucky stifled a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing D,” he shook his head but she knew that look.

“It’s never going to happen,” Natasha finally piped up, “Rogers is a coward, say goodbye to your money Buck.”

He ruffled a hand through her thick red hair, flinching back when she threatened him under her breath.

“What money?” Drew raised an eyebrow. “I feel out of the loop.”

“You are the loop, it’s torture watching you and Steve going around in a circle. So we made a bet…” Sam’s playful nature died on his lips with a kick from Natasha.

“A bet?” Drew wasn’t completely in the dark. Not when it came to her feelings about Steve. But they were friends, barely and in he was constantly preoccupied by someone prettier and funnier.

"What kind of bet?" Drew asked hesitantly. Her mind already summing up the reason behind their friends' mischevious ways.

Sam gave her a side glance from his position on the floor that said "are you really asking that question?" while Bucky answered with a grin, "Who would give in first. My money says you– Ow! What the fuck Nat?!"

Natasha had a glare on her face as she cut him off and smacked him up the head.

"Just cause he's been your friend since kindergarten doesn't automatically make him a winner, you ass!" Nat defended.

Drew huffed an indignant breath and tried to glare at her so called friends.

"Oh, boy. Can someone with a little more common sense tell me what kind of bet this is. I would like to know how that bet involves me." She asked, faking a stern tone trying to get one of them to talk.

Natasha stared at her, exasperation clear on her face. The red head’s rigid look was just enough to break Drew’s resolve rather than wait for one of them to answer her clearly.

“You're my best friend Drew, so I can say this. Stop acting so dense. You know what it’s about and it’s a lot deeper than what these two doofus’ faces or tones are showing.”

Bucky and Sam mumbled in offense, pressing their lips together as soon as Nat narrowed her eyes at them.

“I just want you to let yourself be happy, D”

Drew felt her heart clench inside her chest at her friend’s words. She should’ve known Nat would catch her no matter how hard she tried to just be friends with Steve, she knows her too well.

Before she could answer, the bathroom door unlocking filled her silence. And like a saving grace Steve’s voice boomed through the hallway.

“Showers all yours Drewski!”

Heat rose up her chest and neck as her eyes flicked between the boys and Nat before pushing herself up.

“I have a date to get ready for.” She muttered.

With that, the blonde rounded the couch and headed down the hallway, pausing to grab her towel off the back of her bedroom door. She let out a huff and shook her head once, trying her best to push her friend's betrayal out of her mind. They were crazy if they thought something was going to happen between her and Steve. That boy wouldn't recognize her as more than a roommate if she up and slapped him across the face with her feelings. Which Drew had to admit did sound like a pleasing idea.

She let out a small laugh to herself before a clear of his throat pulled her from her head.

"Whatcha thinking about, princess?" Steve smirked, roughly rubbing his towel over his dirty blonde hair.

A drop of water from his hair ran down his neck and Drew couldn't help but follow the trail with her eyes. quickly biting the inside of her cheek before she returned her gaze to him with an eye roll, "First of all, I told you to stop calling me that. And if you must know, I was thinking about how satisfying it would be to slap you across the face," the blonde quipped as she stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door before he could answer.

Stomping grumpily into the shower to the echo of Steve’s laughter, Drew lathered her hair and gave her scalp an overly vicious scrub. Natasha’s words raced around her brain. She loved her friend with every fiber of her being but she was wrong. There was no-way that hulking blond jackass had any feelings other than irritation and plain devilment towards her.

With a frustrated sigh she began her pre-date shower routine, even breaking out the hardcore expensive body wash that her mom had bought her last Christmas. By the time she stepped out of the shower, Drew was determined not to let that ape or her meddling friends derail her plans for a good night.

Back in her bedroom, Drew perched on the edge of her bed. Hair wrapped in a towel, she slathered moisturizer on her legs as she hummed along softly to her date night playlist.

She could hear the boys laughing in the living room, Steve’s obnoxious shouting and the music of whichever video game they’d gone back to playing, when she heard the quiet knock on her door.

“You can come in, Nat,” Drew called, unraveling her hair from the towel and squeezing out the damp ends.

Natasha wandered into the room and sunk against the dresser, picking at the chipping paint that coated the old wood. "You know that it's all in your best interest?"

"What?" Drew said as she hung the towel. "Dating Steve? It's clear it's a game to you guys."

"It's not," Natasha said in a more serious tone and tapped the dresser to get my attention. "At least it wasn't, we've been watching you both around each other and it only got worse when you started living together. Steve is blind to anyone else in the room when you're around and you're the only person who doesn't see it."

"I have a date," Drew noted, shoving down the butterflies that fluttered in her chest at the thought and checking her reflection in the mirror before adding some mascara to her lashes.

"With some dweeb that won't even remember you like orange juice with the pulp, or that you like vanilla creamer in your coffee after if he gives you thirty second mind blowing sex," Nat rolled her eyes and mocked Drew in what was supposed to be a frat boys confident swagger.

Steve always remembered the orange juice.

"I'm sorry you're out twenty bucks Natasha," Drew stared at her before collecting her bag and going to leave.

"My phones on," Nat said from her position in Drew's room, "text me if you need an exit strategy."

"Always," Drew offered a smile and snuck from the apartment before the guys could hassle her further about the situation.

Thirty minutes into the date, Drew was already itching to reach for her phone and beg Natasha for a fake emergency. Peter was a completely different person outside of their Psych class. Loud, obnoxious and flirted with every waitress that passed their table. Steve's obnoxious too. She thought as she stared at the man in front of her as he shoved onion ring after onion ring into his mouth. He rambled on about anything and everything under the sun since they sat down. Yeah, but Steve doesn't eat like a Neanderthal.

Drew shook her head of thoughts of Steve and focused on the football game on the TV behind him. It was ironic, that the only thing getting her through this was a game she cared nothing about and yet felt less than because Steve wasn't around to scream at the television.

Once they finished eating, they split the bill and Peter walked her outside. A shit-eating grin on his face.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him with an awkward laugh.

"Nothing," Peter shrugged, "it's just that I'm surprised Rogers let you out of the house." He took a step towards her, dragging his fingers down her bare arms. Drew had to fight off an actual shiver as she stepped out of his touch. "I'm glad he did though."

I'm not.

"What do you mean by let me out?" She fought to keep her face neutral as she forced the words out of her mouth, taking half a step more out of his reach.

"Ya' know," he shrugged with a smirk.

"No, I don't." She bit out.

"He's always around you somehow, like a goddamn guard dog. Do you know how many times I tried to ask you out but he was always there?"

what?!

Peter's annoying rambling continued, unaware of just how much Drew was losing interest in him, what was left of it anyway.

"I finally got Rocket to corner him to ask about the team try-outs as a distraction so I could talk to you." He finished. Smugness radiated off of him and the sight made Drew furious.

"Goodnight, Peter. Don't bother calling." Drew turned on her heels, fuming and left him, confused and annoyed on the sidewalk.

I should have stayed home with my friends, she thought as she walked to her car that she was glad she took instead of having Peter pick her up. Him touching bare arm had been enough to make her skin crawl. But what concerned her even more was the way Peter called Steve a guard dog. There was a bite to his tone as if he was staking his claim on her like she was a toy on the playground toddlers fought over.

She sniffled as she unlocked her car and sat in the seat. Wiping her eyes, she pulled out her phone and texted Nat.

Drew: Things didn't go well. I told him not to call me.

Tossing her phone into the passenger seat, Drew made her way home, tightly gripping her steering wheel as Exes by Tate McRae sounded loudly through the car. She silently reminded herself that she'd have to thank Steve for preventing that from happening sooner. Her body shivered in disgust as she threw the car in park, looking up at her building.

Her phone let out a soft ding as Nat reacted to her message with a heart, telling her she'd be over in the morning to hear all about it. With a sigh of defeat, Drew climbed from her small car, grabbed her bag and headed up to the apartment, preparing herself for the inevitable jeering that she'd receive from Steve when she walked in.

As expected, the light from the TV caught her eye when she walked in.

Here we go, she thought to herself.

"Wow, home at 9 PM? You must have found your soulmate," His raspy voice sounded from the living room. She could almost hear the smirk that was plastered on his lips when she moved herself to sit on the opposite side of the couch from him.

"Don't start," Drew muttered, pulling her legs underneath herself as she tied her blonde waves into a messy bun on the top of her head.

She could actually feel his eyes as they analyzed her demeanor before he let out a little huff, rising from the couch and rustling around in the kitchen for a few moments before returning.

As he passed the armchair that Drew usually occupied he grabbed her favorite blanket. Tossing the woolen kaleidoscope over her knees, he handed her a beer and then sat again, taking a swig out of his own bottle.

They stayed sitting in silence for a moment longer before Steve hummed, picking at the label on his beer.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Drew murmured, “just kinda wanna stew in my frustration for a little while.”

Steve huffed out a small chuckle, still just as rich and deep and causing a familiar warmth to curl in her belly.

She hated it.

“He that much of a dick?” Steve asked, tucking his leg up on the couch as he turned to face her.

“Off the scale.”

She could smell the pine and spice from his cologne as he shifted closer.

"Am I on the scale?" He asked, brows raising.

Drew couldn't tell if it was concern or pure cockiness that fueled his question but it dragged a small chuckle from her lips and she could feel herself relaxing. "Yeah it goes, one to Steve Rogers."

"So I beat Porter?" He flashed the most handsome of smiles at her and lifted his beer for a sip.

"Peter," Drew corrected him again. "And we aren't measuring the size of your dick, were measuring how much of a dick you are."

"Wins a win, Drewski." He winked at her and the warmth returned.

"I hate that you do that," she said, picking at her own bottles label now.

"What?" Steve's voice dropped.

"Make me feel better. Steve..." She stopped, unsure she even wanted to ask. "Did you," she cleared her throat, "do you prevent guys in class from asking me out?"

“What? Nah, I mean, I might’ve talked to a guy or two, made sure they really knew what they wanted- but it’s all chill,” Steve shrugged, stretching his arms over the back of the couch.

“Steve! It is not ‘chill’!” Drew exclaimed, turning to face him. “I’m a big girl I can tell guys yes or no on my own.”

“C’mon princess, don’t get all twisted, I was looking out for you.” Steve said, leaning towards her and Drew narrowed her eyes.

“Not a princess.” she said pushing Steve away, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the couch.

She could feel his gaze on her again. Burning a hole into the side of her head as she sunk further into the cushions. Her favorite blanket acting as a barrier between them.

"No," he said finally, "definitely not a princess."

Drew looked over at him, those big blue eyes staring back at her only seemed to glow in the light of the TV. "Why?" She asked softly, "And don't give the whole just protecting me bit."

Steve let out a groan as his head fell back against the couch. "Look okay, I may have told a few of the guys not to mess around with you. That's all." He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. But it was. She didn't need Steve to protect her or her feelings for that matter. She was an adult who could handle them all the same.

"Why Steve?" She pushed again for an answer but was only met with those same blue eyes as they darkened.

"Because they were saying some real fucked up shit and I didn't appreciate it and you definitely didn't deserve to be talked about that way."

She was taken aback by the way his face suddenly lost all the playfulness that was there a minute ago. His lips were drawn into a tight line and his brows furrowed. Somehow, she still didn’t understand why he wanted to protect her so badly.

"You don't need to do that, Steve." her tone soft, speaking more to herself.

"I'm sorry, honey bee. I didn’t mean to upset you."

"You... you didn't upset me," she told him quietly. "It's just... Why do you want to protect me so much?"

"Because I like you, Drew," he told her, his face serious. "I don't want anyone to hurt you."

"I'm a big girl, Rogers, I can take care of myself, you know?"

Steve huffed and shook his head, "Believe me, I know you can D, I just - if you had heard what those guys were saying, I couldn't - I couldn't let them near you"

Silence fell between them for a moment as Steve moved himself forward just enough so his leg was brushing hers and his arm draped lazily around the back of the couch. His fingers played with the edge of her blanket, his eyes cast downward as Drew watched him.

"Guard dog," Drew whispered, smiling softly and breathing out a small laugh as she shook her head, "That's what Peter called you. I didn't even notice that you'd been protecting me like that until he said it"

"Quill's an asshole," Steve muttered, watching the fluff of the blanket run through his finger tips.

"Steve," Drew placed her hand on his knee, his blue eyes flickering back up to hers, "Thank you,"

“Shut up,” he murmured, his face closing down, but there was something in his expression that Drew couldn’t let go.

“No, really,” she pressed. “I don’t have that many people to lol out for me so…I appreciate it, Steve.”

“Bucky would do the same, or Nat,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Would they?” Drew questioned, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward slightly, invading his space more than she usually would.

“I—“ Steve paused, his gaze flitting across her face, blue eyes lingering just a moment on her mouth as she worried at her bottom lip. Steve sucked in a breath, settling back a little.

Drew furrowed her brow, trying to ignore the twist in her stomach as her roommate distanced himself again.

“You what, Steve?”

“I think they would,” he replied, “but they don’t live with you, D. They don’t watch you leave for a date with a douchebag and sit hoping you walk through that door unharmed, or just hoping you walk through that door at all.”

Drew stared at him for a long moment, watching his deep blue eyes flicker from her to the door.

“You wait for me?” She asked finally. She had never really noticed but thinking back on the last few months, no matter how late she arrived Steve had always been in the same spot on the couch.

Sometimes he said nothing, sometimes he’d ask if she slammed the door a little harder than normal. But he always found a reason to be home while she was on a date.

“I’m hurt you never noticed,” he clutched his chest playfully.

Drew looked into Steve’s eyes and saw actual hurt there, surprising her.

“Steve…that’s really sweet,” She said, leaning her head onto the back of the couch, forgetting Steve’s arm was there until she was resting on it.

Drew didn’t move right away, and Steve didn’t pull away, so she stayed where she was.

“Yeah, that’s me; the sweet one,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

Drew’s throat suddenly felt dry. He really did wait for her. And he really did seem hurt. Were their friends right?

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid” she quipped.

Immediate regret when Steve guffawed. And while she mentally kicked herself for that dumb adage, he readjusted and wrapped his arm around her.

He nuzzled against the top of her head, a smile still pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Thanks for the advice, princess.”

"Not a princess," She mumbled with a frown, causing him to laugh.

"There's no way you like Drewski better." He grinned, pulling back enough to look down at her.

Drew laughed. "Honestly? I do."

Steve tossed his head back with a laugh, her favorite kind. His eyes crinkled, mouth hung open and the room filled with the sound that made butterflies in her chest explode.

"Alright, Drewski. You want another beer ?" Steve asked, getting up from the couch and taking the two empty bottles from the coffee table.

"Actually, I need to get out of these clothes. Be right back." She threw the blanket back and got up as well.

"You need help with those ?"

She heard Steve say, a low chuckle left his throat, his voice laced with mischief.

"Behave, Rogers." she answered, sauntering off into her room, passing by Steve, who stood in front of the kitchen island watching her walk away, swaying her hips a little more with each step.

As she shut her bedroom door behind her, Drew rested against it with a sigh. Why am I flirting with him? He's not pushing me away... maybe I should up my game a bit?

Quickly, Drew changed out of her clothes, donning a tank top and a pair of sleep pants before returning to the living area of the apartment. There was a beer already waiting for her beside her favorite spot, which made her smile as she sat down. "Thank you, Steve."

“Gotta keep my favorite girl hydrated,” Steve chuckled, a soft blush warming his cheeks. Drew’s eyes followed where his pinking skin trailed beneath his shirt.

“Your favorite girl, huh?”

“I think Bucky would kill me if I said Natasha was my favorite so… y’know, had to go with my second choice.”

Drew gasped, swatting Steve across his very broad, very firm chest and making him choke out a laugh.

“Rude. You can be honest, Stevie. I won’t let it ruin your star football player, ladies man reputation if you wanna be soft for once. Promise.”

Steve sighed and settled in close again, Drew’s heart rate picking up at the sheer warmth of him against her side.

“You’ve always been my favorite, honey bee.”

She looked up at him to find him staring down at her and the breath caught in her throat under his gaze.

play it cool Drew, don’t flip out.

“Honey bee is cute, how many girls have heard that nickname?” She attempted to recover as the blush tickled at her cheeks.

“Only you,” he said, not looking away.

“You’re very smooth, Rogers,” she huffed when she realized how close they were.

“All part of the charm,” Steve grinned, and Drew laughed, staring as his grin slipped into a pout.

“Cute,” Drew scoffed, but Steve’s eyes lit up.

“You think I’m cute?” He asked quietly, his eyes focused on her lips as she quickly licked them, biting down on her lower lip.

Drew noticed Steve’s breathing getting deeper, heavier, and she looked up to find his gaze had darkened.

"I..."

She hesitated. The words wouldn't come out. Yes, I think you're cute!

"C'mon, don't get shy on me now, Drewski."

Steve's voice had dropped about an octave. Goosebumps tickled to the surface of her skin. She couldn't help but giggle at what was unfolding here.

The smile that spread across his face at the sound sent warmth spreading through her body. He reached up, gently dragging his knuckles along her cheek. Tiny sparks lit up her skin as he tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "That's my favorite sound in the world." He rasped searching her eyes before they flickered down to her lips again.

"Steve," she whispered.

"Tell me not to kiss you right now Drew," he said, his lips so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his breath fanning against her skin. "Tell me to back off and I will, but if you don't..." The words trailed off and she shook her head pushing away every single doubt she had about the man sitting in front of her.

"I won't." She whispered and that's all it took for him to crash his mouth against her own.

Drew gasped into his mouth, her hand instantly moving to rest on the back of his neck as their lips moved in sync with each other. It wasn't long before she could feel him brush his tongue against her lips, asking for entrance, which she happily gave. She could taste the beer he'd been drinking along with mint from the gum he always carried on him, making her moan quietly.

She felt Steve's lips curl up at the soft sound that escaped her throat, pulling another giggle from her. Quickly pressing another kiss to her lips with a smile, he moved to trace her jaw with wet open-mouthed kisses.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he whispered against her skin.

Drew let her head fall back and slightly to the side as her eyes fluttered closed, "Tell me," she breathed.

Steve shook his head, moving to press a kiss to the small freckle at the base of her throat, "Poetry class. First year." he admitted, sitting up and meeting her gaze once more. "I didn't even know what I was doing in that class, and this blonde firecracker sat next to me, and suddenly it turned into my favorite class. She could meet me sarcastic comment for sarcastic comment, and bullied me, and made me question everything, but she also taught me more than that professor did all semester and drove me so insane that I agreed to be her roommate just to be near her."

“Are you close enough now?” Drew breathed out and tangled her fingers into the hair that grew at his nape.

“Not nearly,” he responded against her skin instantly like he had waited his whole life to be asked exactly that.

“And now?” She asked. He leaned back never breaking away but wrapping his arm around her waist and allowing her closer as he kissed his way across her collar bone and she settled into his lap. “Steve,” she urged him for an answer.

“It’ll never be enough,” he hummed. The fresh stubble on his jaw tickled her skin as his fingers worked beneath the fabric of her shirt and up her spine.

Drew shivered and Steve pulled her in closer, hands spreading warm and wide on her back. His lips were trailing up her neck and behind her ear, sucking gently.

Steve pulled back and his eyes darkened as they zeroed in on the mark he left behind, his hands turning possessive on her skin, clutching her too him.

“Steve,” Drew gasped, feeling his bulge grow between her legs. She hesitantly ground down, and Steve grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her in for a rough kiss.

“Honeybee,” Steve groaned into Drew’s mouth, holding her hips tight as she wound her arms around his neck.

Drew moaned as their teeth clicked against each other. She felt lightheaded with passion. Steve's hands continued to explore her back as his hips bucked up against hers.

She gasped - her panties were already wet, and she was getting impatient as she felt the growing bulge in Steve's pants.

He pulled away abruptly and she whined at the loss of contact.

"Tell me what you want, Drew," he whispered in a sultry voice. "I've been talking an awful lot."

Drew stared at him for a moment. Her heart felt like it wanted to escape her chest as his fingers traced a line up and down her spine, tickling her skin. "I-" she stopped, the words on her tongue but stuck.

"You can tell me no," He said cupping her cheek with his free hand, curling it into her hair. "We do this at your pace."

She shook her head, "it's not that." Drew laughed softly pressing her forehead against his. "I want to, I want you"

Steve sighed softly, "But?"

"but I'm scared." She admitted softly.

Steve kissed the tip of her nose as he cradled her head in his hands. “What are you scared of?” He asked softly. “I hope, not me. I never want you to be scared of me.”

"No, no it's not you I'm scared of," Drew twisted her head and placed a soft kiss to Steve's wrist as his fingers played with the hair at the back of her neck, "I'm scared of what this means, of admitting what we want here, I just - you had another girl in your room today and I just got home from a date... why did it take these things to get us here? Why couldn't we be normal people and just - "

"Be honest?" Steve finished her question, with a soft smirk.

Letting out a breath she was unaware she was holding, Drew nodded and fiddled with the silver chain that sat around Steve's neck, "I just want to make sure we know what we're doing, and not just getting caught up in the moment,"

"Drewski," Steve started catching her brown eyes with his blue ones, his expression soft and caring as his fingertips traced circles into the skin of her back, "There's a reason I'm home every night, watching Love Island with you. Why none of the girls I've brought over ever stayed, and I think there's a reason why you came to sit on the couch with me after your bad dates instead of hiding in your room like you usually do when someone pisses you off."

Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip and she nodded slowly with a small smirk, "It's you and me. It always has been. It just took too long for either of us to realize" she said softly.

Steve smiled at her, nodding, and pressed his lips to hers gently. “You and me Drew, always.” He pulled her closer on his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her chest. She could feel her heart beating under his ear, a little fast but steady.

Drew kissed the top of Steve’s head, nuzzling her face into his hair. She realized after a moment that Steve wasn’t moving.

“Are we…cuddling? Are you a cuddler, Rogers?”

“Only for you, honeybee,” Steve murmured against her skin, sinking into the couch with her, pressing Drew further into his arms as he relaxed.

A warm feeling unfurled in her chest, her heart expanding with unknown but pleasant sensations coursing through her as Steve's larger body covered her own. His thick arms wrapping around her waist completely and his scent the only thing she could smell. It was the most comfort she'd felt in a long time.

Their chests rose and fell in sync as they breathed each other in. Drew didn't want to break this beautiful silence even though her mind was begging for more reassurance from him.

Steve raised his hand to brush the strand of hair out of her face at a slow pace, his calloused fingers traveling over her skin heating it in its wake. Like he was savoring every second with her, his blue eyes glittering like snow crystals on a cold winter morning.

"Princess, we take this at whatever pace you feel comfortable with." He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, his lips warm and soft against her skin.

When he pulled back to meet her gaze she smiled tenderly, the soft thump of his heartbeat calming her nerves.

“What’d I say about the princess, Rogers?” She breathed, a soft laugh escaping her lips at his apologetic grimace.

“I’m ok, Steve. Really.” She paused, bringing her thumb to his lips, tracing them gently as she felt his heartbeat quicken. “I feel safe with you. I trust you.”

Steve kissed her thumb, staring into her eyes. His own heartbeat hammered in his chest as he drew her hand away so he could lean in and kiss her again. He couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of her mouth.

His hands slid slowly down her sides, as if he were committing her curves to memory, and halted at her waist. When his fingers slipped under the hem of her tank top and tightened against her skin Drew moaned.

Crushing her chest against his, she deepened their kiss, tilting her head as their tongues entwined. Steve whimpered into her mouth when her thighs clamped around his hips and she raked her fingers through his messy blond hair.

Drew's hips started moving on their own, slowly grinding onto him as heat pooled low in her belly at the feel of his hardness underneath her most sensitive parts.

The deliciously sinful groan that left him at the next grind of their hips together made her bite his lower lip and suck into her mouth. His hands roaming the skin of her back digging in slightly and pulling her flush against him.

"Faster, Drew." He panted into her mouth as her back bowed when his cock hit her clothed clit just right.

A desperate whimper left her lips as she increased the pace which elicited a string of deep moans and a few curses out of Steve.

"Fuck."

Steve's hands traveled up her hips over the sheer lace of her bra, her nipples already peaked through the fabric, almost unbearably sensitive to his touch, like her body unknowingly yearned for him all this time.

Drew dropped her head to his shoulder, panting as she circled her hips. “I need to feel you…”

Steve dipped his thumbs beneath the neck of her top and into her bra, searching out her pebbled nipples and circling them in time to the movement of her hips against him.

“Honey bee,” he whispered lustily, kissing a hot trail across her jaw and down the column of her throat.

“Touch me, Steve…please…” Her voice was a breathy whisper and her hands clutched desperately to him.

Steve tilted his head back, the warmth of his hands leaving her skin as he instead tucked his thumb under her chin until he met her gaze.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life, Steve. Now please fucking touch me.”

Drew’s breath hitched on the last word as Steve moved his thumb to her bottom lip, tugging it down until her mouth naturally parted and he skimmed along the sensitive skin just inside. Eyes not leaving Steve’s, Drew flicked her tongue out over the tip of his thumb, sucking it into her mouth.

His eyes darkened and his lids were low on his cornflower eyes as she watched him trace the movement, breathing laboured and heavy.

"Take off your pants, D."

The low command sent a rush of heat down her spine and she scrambled to take her pajama pants off, lacking any grace as she stumbled out of them halfway across his lap while he bit his lip in amusement.

Drew settled back down straddling him, her damp pale blue panties doing little to cover her, but the way Steve's eyes narrowed in on them and his hands dug into the flesh of her ass told her she didn't need to cover herself from him.

Steve laid a trail of kisses along her neck, lowering himself slowly along her still clothed chest. Nose nudging each of her pebbled nipples, as her breath hitched in her throat.

She lifted herself up on her elbows slightly, eyes finding Steve’s with quick breaths as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her belly where her top scrunched up.

“Sweet talker,” Drew teased.

“Only for you,” he winked, looking up at her. “And for the record, you're beautiful all the time. But this view is… perfect.” He mused as his hold tightened on her thigh.

Drew ran one hand down his arm, watching as goosebumps rose on his skin. “My view is pretty perfect too.”

Steve grinned before bending to kiss her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel, making her gasp.

With a low chuckle, he trailed down over her abdomen, kissing, nipping, and sucking a tingling path across her skin. When he bypassed the apex of her thighs Drew let out a needy whine. Steve raised his eyes to hers and gave a sly smile.

“You…” she growled in frustration, lifting her hips impatiently.

His large hand splayed across her stomach, pressing her down into the couch and preventing her from moving.

“Don’t tease me,” she pleaded desperately.

“But it’s such fun, honey bee,” he hummed, nipping at the sensitive skin of her thigh.

Drew huffed and Steve chuckled at her indignation, the gruffness of his laugh against her skin sending tingles straight to the depths of her belly.

“Steeeeve,” she whined again, fingers tangling in his hair in an attempt to coax him closer to where she needed him most.

“Okay, okay,” Steve conceded, lips curling into a devilish smirk as he sucked a bruise to her thigh and peppered the skin with soft, small kisses until his mouth landed warm and wet over the lace of her panties.

The grip Drew had on Steve’s hair tightened and he groaned into her heat, tongue lapping lazily over the dampening fabric.

“Holy shit,” Drew moaned, her hips arching upward only to be pushed back down again by Steve.

She lifted her head, wanting to watch him as he swirled his tongue over her clothed clit, making her mouth part in pleasure.

She needed him closer and she knew he was teasing her on purpose as he flattened his tongue and increased the pressure on her clit.

“Asshole,” she gasped in desperation, crossing her ankles across the muscular planes of his back as she tried to draw him closer.

“I know, I know,” he mocked huskily, “I’m such a jerk.”

“Ste-“ she began but her words caught in her throat as he pulled the lace of her panties to one side and swept his tongue in a languid stripe through her bare folds.

“Oh— oh God,” Drew whimpered as Steve’s lips wrapped around her clit, sucking lightly between long swirls of his tongue.

Heat pooled in her belly, and there were big, fluttering swoops of desire in her chest. Amongst the surprising sweetness and soft side of Steve, this is what she’d been fucking missing out on too?!

“How’re you holdin’ up, baby?” Steve’s voice, a little rough and dripping from pink, swollen lips sounded from between her legs.

“Don’t you dare stop, Steve.”

Steve grinned, delighted and devilish before he winked and dipped his head again with a murmured, “yes, ma’am.”

Drew gripped Steve’s hair with both hands as she began to rock back and forth. She could feel him play with her, tease and delight her with every stroke of his tongue.

“Fuck- oh!”

Steve growled, leaving one hand on her ass while the other slowly sank two fingers into her soaking heat.

She clenched around them, the new sensation sending thrills of pleasure up her spine as he dragged them in and out of her at an agonisingly slow pace.

Her heaving breaths were almost sobs when he replaced his lips with his thumb, working her clit in time with his fingers as he began to kiss his way back up her body.

He must have paid attention to every inch of her, nudging her tank top up with his nose and pressing his soft, wet lips against her sweat-damp skin until he reached her neck.

Raising himself up and yet never slowing his pace, Steve trailed his nose along her jaw before capturing her mouth in a salacious kiss.

Each drag of his tongue against hers, each catch of his teeth across the wet skin of her lips, felt deliberate as if Steve had worked out the perfect formula to bring Drew right to the brink.

Her whole body was alight with it, muscles tensing and heart racing as her climax coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. She was so close, sighing and whimpering into Steve’s mouth.

“Let go, honey bee. Wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make,” he whispered, lips trailing along the length of her jaw and catching her earlobe gently between his teeth. “Come on, gorgeous girl, I got you.”

That was all Drew needed, the release washed over her like a tidal wave as Steve worked deep inside of her. His lips found hers in a needy, deep kiss while his hand braced her arching back and supported her as she rolled through the intense pleasure.

He groaned as her grip on his hair tightened and everything rushed to her head, forcing her eyes to flutter as the euphoria of the orgasm overtook her. Steve pulled away from her gently, teeth grazing her bottom lip as she worked to catch her breath.

“Fuck, look at you,” Steve smiled, his blue eyes alight with pleasure and desire. “Coming so good for me…”

“I…I can’t…I…Jesus…” Drew gasped, a blissful grin blooming lazily across her face.

“Take it easy,” Steve rumbled, nuzzling his nose against her cheek as his hand came up to cup the other.

His thumb swiped away the beads of sweat from the bridge of her nose and he ghosted his lips across her skin as she tried to slow her breathing and calm her heaving chest.

Drew giggled softly and she used her grip on his hair to angle his lips over her own, their deep kisses becoming soft and sweet.

“You okay?” Steve whispered between kisses. His own skin glistened with a soft pink blush of exertion and Drew wanted to spend the rest of the night covering every inch of it with kisses, tracing each freckle and football scar.

She hummed, nodding her answer into the crook of Steve’s neck before drawing back to meet his gaze, soft and adoring.

“What now?”

“Now,” Steve replied softly, kissing her again as if he just couldn’t help himself, “now I’m hoping you’ll agree to be my favourite and only girl.”

“Yeah?”

“I know I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I’d be a real idiot to miss out on loving you, D.” Drew beamed, surging forward to kiss Steve again until he drew back suddenly. “Hey, you wanna come to my game next week. Wear my jersey?”

"That sounds like trouble, Steve Rogers." Drew smiled, her cheeks sore from doing it for so long. "

"It's a promise." He disagreed.

A week later she stood in the stands, donning the jersey nervously, heart beating faster than it ever had before as Steve was crushed into the grass by a large defensemen.

"Nice jersey," Bucky tugged on the hem as he slid into the stands behind her and kissed Nat on the cheek.

"Just supporting a friend, Buck." Drew said without taking her eyes off the field.

"You're late," she scolded under her breath.

"I can't watch him play these big games, makes me sick to my stomach," he scowled and his strong hand squeezed Drew's shoulder in support.

“He’ll be fine,” Drew assured. Whether that was for Buck or herself, she didn’t know. She looked over at Bucky and smiled. “I’m sure of it.”

In truth, at the end of the third quarter they weren’t entirely safe and even Drew was chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she watched Steve pelt his way across the field.

She bounced on the balls of her feet and worried at the hem of her jersey.

“C’mon Steve!” She yelled every time his fingers touched the ball.

“What’s gotten into you?” Natasha hissed as the players lined up for the start of the final quarter.

“Nothing!” Drew insisted, craning her neck to catch the start of play and tuning out everything else.

God, it was close. As the minutes ticked down Drew, Bucky, and Natasha found themselves pressed against the rail at the edge of the field. They were screaming to high heaven, their arms flailing, as Steve scooped up the ball and launched it with a powerful throw towards Nick Fury, who took off with it down the field.

“Go, go, go!” Drew shrieked, which turned into squeals of victory as Fury landed the ball just before time was called.

She found herself pulled from the mass of celebration and almost dragged over the rail as Steve wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a victorious embrace.

His hungry lips claimed hers, unbothered by their audience, and their breathing grew heavier for an entirely different reason. They were so focused on each other that neither of them noticed the smug glances shared between their friends, or the money that slipped begrudgingly into palms.

“C’mon honey bee,” Steve grinned, hoisting her over the rail. “I want the team to meet my girl.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers au #college au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x oc #frat boy steve rogers #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel oneshot #one shot #fluff #marvelous #steve rogers smut #smut #roommates to lovers

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cellophaine · 2 years

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hey! I absolutely love your series lingered affections, I was wondering if you could write something about meating Matt in college; then confessing love for each other. Maybe something dramatic;) Love you work!!<3

I Get Along Without You Very Well

Pairing: College!Matt Murdock x Reader (main focus), College!Matt Murdock x College!Elektra Natchios

Warnings: Very light angst. Reader is lowkey emotionally detached. Matt is lowkey clueless. Time jumps.

Author's Note: I'm very very sorry for the wait! 😭 I hope this would be worth it (?). If not, I really am sorry 🥲

As always, any likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! <3

GIF is not mine

You slumped in the uncomfortable seat, your hand absent-mindedly tapping on the smooth surface of the desk before you. All you wanted was for the class to begin already so it could end faster, which meant you could go back to your dorm and take a fat nap until your friend woke you up for a $5 greasy pizza slice in Harlem. You would argue with her that $5 was too much for a piece, to which she would reply that it was big enough to make the fattest rat in New York hesitate, to which you would counter going all the way to Harlem for a slice of pizza is ridiculous, to which she would deadpan "you're just lazy" which would be true to some extends. You couldn't bother going out on a Friday night after a brutal first week at Columbia. Who knew studying law would be this hard?

You were lost in the fast-forwarding of your night until someone cleared their throat somewhere behind you.

"I'm sorry, is this History and Philosophy of Law class?"

You lifted your gaze towards the giant blackboard at the end of the room, decorated with equally large and flowery letters that said: "Welcome to History and Philosophy of Law!" As if those little rays of sunshine drawn around the course's name magically made the class more interesting, you thought.

"... yeah. It's pretty obvious, don't you think?"

You turned in your seat, craning your head up to the source of the voice. The rest of your sentence died down to a whisper like water escaping through the drain in a quiet whoosh. You took in the rectangle glass and the more obvious indication of why he could not see the board, a white cane with a red accent at the end.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What is obvious?"

You diverted your lingering gaze away from the adorable side part of his hair and the innocent smile accompanying his clueless expression. You shook your head before letting out a sigh, resuming your position as before. Just a little straighter.

"Never mind. I was being stupid."

You went back to examining the blackboard when he spoke up again.

"Can I sit here with you?"

He pointed to the seat beside you. You shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah, go ahead. Feel free to practice your constitutional right."

That earned a lighthearted chuckle from him, and you found yourself … not disliking the sound. He felt around for the desk next to yours, and you sneaked a glance at him every so often. After settling in, he turned to you, extending a hand with a friendly smile.

"My name is Matt Murdock."

You let out a soft hum in response, making no move to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Matthew."

His lips flattened in a way you knew was a mix of amusement and faux displeasure.

"It's Matt. What's your name?"

You exhaled softly through your nose, mildly vexed at this stranger's attempt at making small talk with you, or worse, getting to know you. The thought made you shudder. You offered him an evasive answer instead.

"None of your business."

"Nice to meet you, None-of-your-business."

You snorted, too loud for the echo of the classroom, which drew some stares toward the pair of you. You didn't expect him to sass you back, especially in such a prompt manner. You bit back a laugh as the professor asked for everyone's attention and introduced herself. You glanced at him again to see a dopey smile on his face mirroring your own, making him look even more adorable than the side part of his hair. Your heart did a stupid, fluttering thing then.

After that day, Matt became an unexpected addition to your life. You sat together for every class you shared, and to which the two of you found out later that it was all of them, even the Spanish course. He introduced you to his roommate Foggy, widening your friend circle even though you had no desire to do so. Matt gradually coaxed you out of your shell, and before you knew it, you were hanging out with the duo every week with an occasional drop-in from your friend. You spent many late nights with Matt, with early cups of coffee and catching up meals in between. You took care of each other, which was something that came naturally. At first, you thought it was purely transactional. You did it because you didn't want to owe him a favour. But you slowly came to a realization that Matt did it for anyone he cared about. This tangible string between you became an iron thread, blurring the border between platonic admiration and all-consuming infatuation. You harboured a crush, and it was a little too late when your stubborn self came to accept that.

Elektra's appearance in Matt's life was like the last nail to your coffin of unrequited feelings. She was a mysterious force, pulling Matt with her. Study sessions were mostly you and Foggy cooping up in the library, and you rarely saw Matt these days. You told Foggy something you never told anyone in one of those hangouts when it was only the two of you. Little did you know, it only tangled the delicate web of sorrow that cast over your fate and Matt's.

It would appear that all it took was lots of alcohol and a convincing argument from Foggy at an end-of-semester celebration for you to drunkenly walked down the hall to Matt's dorm at two in the morning. They haven't made it official, Foggy said with so much conviction. Before going in, he gave you two thumbs up with a grin so bright it made his eyes squint shut. With your cheerleader just outside the door, you gathered courage, walking to his door with little stumbling, as you so proudly recalled. You composed a speech in your head, practicing with a barely-there whisper in the quiet hall. Most students had gone home for Christmas, with some exceptions.

Before his door, you took a deep breath, knocking with less assurance than you would have liked. He couldn't tell how nervous you were by the way you knocked, could he? All of your wandering thoughts evaporated as Matt opened the door, a flustered look on his face. He didn't have his glasses on, and it allowed you to look at his unsighted eyes. They were focused on a point on your shoulder; the usual vivid hazel was darkened in the dimly lit hallway. The light was off in his room, making you feel even more guilty about disturbing his peace.

His voice called out to you with husky touch to his undertone. Was it sleep? Was it something else?

"What are you doing here? It's very late. Are you okay?"

You adored the way his confusion turned into concern for you in the same breath.

"Oh! Uhm, yes, I'm fine, as fine as I can be. In my tip-top conditions."

You laughed nervously, internally cringing at your rambling. But you couldn't help yourself.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up. I know that it's late–"

"–that's okay. I was just–"

"–but I just want to tell you something."

You spoke simultaneously; words bounced off each other, woven in a jumble of sound with the message lost in between. You chuckled nervously, and Matt followed.

"Of course. What do you want to tell me?"

You took a deep breath, willing your voice to stay steady.

"I–"

"Matthew, who is it?"

Elektra's unmistakable silky voice rang out from the inside, making the confession die on the tip of your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow it down, burying the words of love with the haste of your shovel with each painful thud in your heart. The thumps in your chest felt like they rattled your ribcage, turning everything else into a soft blur. You blinked back the tears that welled along the rims of your eyes. Like a glass full, you were afraid you would spill and break in front of him. The least you could do was allow yourself the dignity from a faux composure.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Matt turned his sightless yet curious gaze to you, imploring you to continue. You shaped your lips into a forced smile, hoping it could mask your devastation.

"I just want to wish you a good night. And that I'll see you in class."

He stayed silent; the slight waver in your voice didn't convince him. You knew that because you knew him,

"Are you okay?"

The tenderness of his voice and the way he gently called your name caressed your fragile mind.

"Yeah, yes, I'm fine. I should get out of your hair."

Matt held his hands up, motioning you to wait for him. He went to take his coat off the hook on the wall, speaking out to you.

"I'll take you back to your dorm. You shouldn't be out by yourself this … late."

By the time he got to the door, you were already walking down the hall with the phantom of Matt's voice calling out your name close behind.

The Christmas break provided you with a much-needed space so you could coddle your broken heart. You kept in touch with Foggy, and responded to occasional messages with Matt. You tried to keep the contact with him at a minimum, enough not to arouse any suspicion. The break also gave you enough time to develop a foolproof plan to avoid Matt as much as you could. The second semester went on almost seamlessly with your diligent effort to commit to your plan. You came to class just before the lecture started, choosing a seat far away from Matt, and leaving before he could catch up with you. You found excuses not to hang out, study, or do anything in close quarters with them. While Foggy understood why, Matt didn't. Distancing yourself was the only way you knew how to soothe the ache in your chest every time you were struck with the thought of Matt. You knew your feelings would never be reciprocated. You lost your chance.

However, Foggy remained hopeful.

"I know Matt, and I know that he likes you. A lot."

"If he liked me that much, he wouldn't be with Elektra."

You said with resignation. Foggy stayed quiet, musing in the weight of your admission.

"I'm sorry."

You shrugged nonchalantly as if your action reflected how you truly felt.

"It is what it is. It was my fault for catching feelings."

You reached over the table, patting Foggy's hand.

"I'll be okay. I will get over it."

You never quite did, especially when Matt unexpectedly ambushed you on the way to your dorm.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

And when you kept your lips shut, refusing to provide him with an honest answer, Matt said with a broken edge to his voice.

"I miss my friend."

With a biting bitterness on your tongue, you spoke softly as if that could lessen the blow.

"I wish I could say the same."

More time passed as the last encounter drew a line between you and Matt. A part of you felt relief since you didn't have to find an excuse not to hang out anymore. Still, the other part of you felt guilty for what happened. You could have kept it together and still got to have him in your life. But, from deep down, you knew that you would rather have all of Matt than just bits and pieces you knew couldn't satisfy the bottomless greed when it came to him.

You carried on with your life without him, feeling the emptiness of the space that belonged to him. You finished the first semester better than you anticipated, waltzing into summer with a lightness to your steps. You took a part-time job at a coffee shop, enjoying what the New York summer had to offer. You went to the bookstores, museums, parks and vintage shops. You spent the summer in a comfortable solitude, and you found yourself enjoying it. You found yourself thinking about Matt all the time; not once did his voice fade in your head as you thought it should.

The second year kicked off, and like the last time, you still avoided Matt. It went on until you went back to your dorm after a long day of classes, only to find a sock on the doorknob. You went to the library after getting a measly cold sandwich from a bodega close by with a water bottle before heading to the library. You walked up the stairs, taking turns to the usual spot you took, finding Matt already sitting there, his hand splayed on the open book. You let out a small "oh shit" before walking backwards straight into the bookshelf, letting out a pained whimper at the sudden impact. Matt's head snapped up with a curious look. He called out your name, and you cursed yourself for not running fast enough.

"Sorry, I'll leave now."

Matt stood up almost immediately; the chair scraped back harshly on the marble floor.

"No! Please, stay here."

You exhaled nervously, slowly backing up with every word you said.

"That's alright. I don't think it's a good–"

"Please?"

You yielded at his pleading tone. You cursed yourself for giving in so easily as you sat down, pulling out your textbook.

"Just like the good old days, hm?"

Matt said with a bashful air in his tone and face. That drew a soft smile to your face, and you hummed softly in agreement. You cleared your throat after a few moments of silence.

"How's– Foggy?"

You had intended to ask about Elektra, but you were too much of a coward. Matt had a quizzical look on his face.

"He's fine. I thought you guys keep in touch? That's what he told me."

"Busted."

A brief silence fell over you. It didn't stay that way for longer than a minute as you went for it.

"How is … Elektra?"

You lifted your head from the textbook as Matt didn't answer your question. A hint of hurt embedded itself onto the furrow of his brows, in the slight tilt of his frown. He must know that you were looking as he cleared his throat.

"We broke up a while ago."

You went still at the news. Matt looked like a kicked puppy at this moment, and all you wanted was to pull him in for a hug.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It just wasn't meant to be, you know? I thought she was the one, but she ... proved me wrong."

"I'm sorry. Breakups are never easy."

You ended up talking for the whole night, catching up with what you had missed in the other's life. Around 1 AM, you walked to a diner that opened late, ordering yourself some hot chocolate and food to share. When the conversation winded down, you didn't think twice when you reached across the table, placing your hand on top of his.

"I missed you."

Your heart did a stupid, fluttering thing again when Matt turned his palm up, threading his fingers with yours.

"I missed you, too."

Things started to be the way it was again. Yet, there was something different. You got meaningful, somewhat suggestive looks from Foggy, the way Matt seemed to get flustered around you more and more. You blamed it on the awkwardness when you rekindled your friendship. It could take a while for you to be comfortable around each other again. You could deal with that.

On a cloudy night that turned into the pouring rain, you walked Matt back to his dorm after spending some time at the library. You were soaking wet when you reached the building, and the rain only poured down harder. Matt invited you in for shelter. You shivered at the welcoming warmth of the room, taking in the layout. Foggy's side was a little messy, with no sign of him anywhere. Matt promptly informed you that Foggy was out with Marci, and he wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. Matt gave you a towel, letting you dry off while he rummaged through his drawer to find a change of clothes for the both of you. On the opposite side of the bed, with your backs turned to each other, you put on his sweatshirt, pulling on the sweatpants that were a little too big on you. You subtly took in a deep breath, smiling at the faint smell of his laundry detergent in the soft material.

Matt sat on the floor by his bed, and after putting on his clothes, you joined him. You fidgetted with the long sleeves; your thigh almost touched his. You could feel the heat his body radiated at this distance, pulling you towards him. But you stayed put.

After a while, Matt whispered into the space between you.

"What happened to us?"

You knew what he was talking about. It was something you thought would come eventually, and you hoped, when it did, you would be prepared for it.

Still, you thought this was something you could never prepare for. It wasn't a test. It was a gentle demand of the truth, and it wasn't easy even at that.

"I just felt like there wasn't any place for me in your life anymore. So I thought it was better to take myself out of the picture."

You picked at a fraction of the truth, for it was the easier part. Matt felt for your hand, clasping it between the warmth of his hands.

"You will always have a place in my life. You will always have my time."

You shook your head.

"No, that will not always be the case, and it's okay. There will be a time when I'm just somebody you knew."

You said matter-of-factly. The grasp of Matt's hands on yours tightened as the desperation in his voice convinced you to think otherwise.

"No, don't say that. You're breaking my heart."

You reached out with your hand, smoothing a few strands of his hair away from his forehead. When you pulled back, your fingers were damp with moisture.

"All broken hearts mend at some point, Matt. They don't stay broken forever. I know that all too well."

"What do you mean? Did something happen?"

You sighed deeply, finally feeling the courage you permitted yourself to let go of what you wanted to say to him that night.

"I loved you, Matt, in a way I knew I shouldn't. Then, Elektra came, and I knew I had lost my chance. I tried to get over you, I ... I tried to cope with my broken heart by staying away."

Matt's hand came up to rest on your jawline, angling your face so you could look at him. His voice was a husky, barely-there whisper, spoke with such raw tenderness that made your heart ache.

"Tell me that I'm not too late. Tell me that you still … love me."

You didn't dare to breathe; the air locked in your chest as you searched for the meaning behind his words.

"What are you saying?"

Matt licked his lips, releasing a slow and nervous sigh.

"I have loved you for so long. It's always been you. I was stupid not to realize that out of fear of losing you if you didn't feel the same. So I accepted that I could never have a chance with you."

Emotions rushed through you, making your head spin. You couldn't quite believe what he was saying. You wanted to cry tears of frustration and let your body sag to the floor with your head on Matt's thighs. Pure exhaustion from secrets, lost time, and misunderstanding caught up to you, rendering you silent. But, underneath it all was this blossoming happiness, growing at a dangerous pace. It spread through your body like wildfire, and you didn't want to put it out. You wanted to bask in the heat, in the feeling of being loved by someone you adored.

Matt brought your hand to his lips, pressing a tender and tentative kiss to your knuckles, soliciting the most important thing –

"Please, tell me, am I too late?"

– the key to his heart ever since the day you met. You closed the distance, whispering in between.

"No, you are not."

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