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undercoverpena · 3 months

Text

in my room

javier peña x f!reader | masterlist

summary: Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.

wordcount: 6.2k (im so sorry, this was meant to be short)

warnings: explicit. smut + angst. colleagues who fuck for stress relief. grumpy-ish javi. file room shenanigans. unprotected p in v. oral!f receiving, mention of m!receiving. javi’s hand being a necklace. cum eating (by Javi), mild rough sex? mentions of grief (due to canon-compliant death), season two compliant/spoilers for season two. javi has a filthy mouth. joetics (jo and her poetic nature, credit to @/goodwithcheese for the name), no use of y/n but javi calls you princesa/baby.

an: dedicated to javi-edit-anon, hope you're doing okay.

It begins swarmed in grief.

A chest full of conflicting emotions, fingers itching for another smoke. It is all put into motion by the same person who became the catalyst—the match to the flame, the cause of the inferno.

He doesn’t usually wander around the building. But, today was a lot of firsts. Jaw clenched. Fingers digging into his palm at the memory, the realisation—the fucking play-by-play—of how he’d been played, fucked over, used.

Now, he’s left riddled with the knowledge that he’d lost a friend a few hours ago because of something he did. The understanding of it rusting in his stomach, right next door to the place disgrace is building a home where his gut had been.

He’s not thinking, not seeking—a desperation to run and hide, yet has nowhere to go.

And then he comes across you.

Finds you in the hallway like you were sent to save him. To pull him out of the water, pump the liquid from his lungs and smother the flames from burning his skin.

The two of you having stopped, paused in your travels.

Just two isolated shadows in the middle of the corridor—an invisible line being drawn, a noticeable white mark—backlit by sorrow and emptiness.

You don’t tear your eyes from him. Stubborn, even on your loss. Purposefully, intentionally, holding his gaze across the empty corridor.

Usually, you're so put together he feels contempt at how you seem unfazed at being surrounded by the shit they all have to do daily. But now, you look every bit as undone as him—shirt untucked, sadness stitched into your usually tight, rigid frame.

The only thing similar is the way you look at him, just like you did when the hours ticked on during those late nights you were forced to work together.

Files opened, documents scoured. Two eyes fairing better than one in their search. The toe of your shoe tapping against his desk, your fingers circling the rim of your mug full of coffee (never liquor, only coffee), pen clicking and clicking—

It had been Carrillo who had paired the two of you. Handing him a task, a surname—one Javi hadn’t heard—and the option of an extra pair of hands: you’ll see she’s good, and we don’t want her poached.

Then, he’d laid eyes on you.

You who’d he’d seen around, but never the chance to talk to. Had no reason to. You forever moved in any direction but the one he was heading in whenever he came into sight. That had been well over a month ago, weeks now.

In that time, he learnt your snark, your laugh—the way you take your coffee and your petulance for sugar after 8 pm—all proper in how you handle yourself, like royalty.

It’s then he learned that you hated being called princesa. Lips curling when it dripped from his lips, back straightening—all close to fracturing, snapping. So naturally, he called it you more.

It became—like the rest of it—a habit. He dropped the name as easily as he began pushing some of his shit to the side for you, so you had a space, a small corner of his desk you could commandeer when you joined him.

It didn’t mean anything. A thing be recited, thought to himself as he buried himself inside Gabriela—who looked nothing like you.

Then, a week ago, you were already there before he got back. The soles of his shoes had come to a standstill at the top of the steps, staring at the back of you—taking you in.

There was no need to see your face, Javi knew that you knew he was there. Not saying a thing when he seated himself down, the same way he didn’t with each tap of your shoes’ toe against the metal frame and you bit the end of your pen. He’d decided weeks ago, when you wore a shirt you felt the need to undo two buttons off, that if you weren’t paired with him to torture him, he wasn’t sure what else you were sitting next to him to test him for. But he’d find out, work it out.

Then you cracked it—found it, the anomaly, the name, a connection. A semblance of something in a sea of shit. A straw to grasp, to pull—your lips, likely stained from coffee and ink, twisting into a grin, one he couldn’t help but admire.

“¿Cómo?”

Pulling a face, he had only shrugged, feeling you watch him, answering with a, “You’re good.”

“You just realised? You just notice I got tits, too?”

Leaning back in his chair, he shifts his jaw to the side. Watching you stack papers before holding his stare, letting you see him flick his eyes from yours to your lips. Suddenly all unsure how to even begin telling you that he’d noticed you—had done so since they were all forced into this fucking building.

But you’d caught him, snapped him in plain sight with those beautiful eyes of yours. “Resorting to kissing colleagues now. Fucking whores not doing it for you, Peña?”

He had smirked, wider, but it had been tough. Leaning forward, he traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “You heard about that.”

Nodding, you’d smiled—cockily, full of something other than kindness. “Half the women will be lining up if they think you have free time.”

“But not you?”

Then, you’d stood, head tilted, files in the neatest pile compared to the rest of his desk, as you rolled your lips. “No. Not me. Goodnight, Peña.”

That exchange had been before things had gone to shit.

Before his cock had undone it all, left several people dead and the person who’d paired you together, gone. Taken—leaving a widow and children without a father.

Snorting, he focuses on clearing his throat as he replays it all. How much of a fever dream it all feels, his other hand pinching his thigh as he stares at you studying him, not scurrying off like he half expects.

And the fact you don’t makes his fingers itch at his side.

A part of him, suddenly stronger than all other parts, battles to move closer to you—like he needs to see what your mouth feels like on his. Like he’s been without his fill. It’s why even as much as he wants you to close the gap, he doesn’t move. Wants you to have an out—an escape.

A chance to choose whether you want to wake up with regret. Because even he knows sleeping with him ends in two ways, and shame is usually one of them.

“You should go inside your room.”

But of course you don’t. Instead, it’s the soles of your shoes on the floor that get louder, closer.

“Do you want me to, Peña?”

It’s building, rising. His eyes trailing up and down you, mouth chewing his tongue as he gets another taste of liquor, as he finally lets his gaze land back on yours.

“You want me to walk away from you?”

No. It’s final. Gruff. More spat out than said—laced with failure and remorse—but you hear him. Loud and fucking clear.

So much so, your lips twist up, smirking more devilish than he knows what to do with. “Good.”

It’s quick—you’re quick. Yanking him close as he forces you flush against him. His mouth crashes, steals and takes as his lips sear themselves to yours. And he learns, quickly, you’re not soft, but biting.

You are all jagged sweetness that throws a curve ball in how he knows how to handle this. You. Your lips taste of sadness, tears and liquor, all cheap—so very unlike what he imagines for you—and you make a knot tighten in his core as your palm flattens over his hardening cock in his jeans.

“You tested?” he asks, hand cupping your jaw, tilting your eyes up, pulse racing against his wrist—skin warm, scorching.

“Are you!?” you spit, and he almost snorts until your fingers knot in the base of his hair, pulling, likely hoping it hurts.

And it does.

Makes him groan—but he’s quick to smother it in the back of his throat. Flatten it, hide and conceal. Getting his answer for an exchange of your own.

“We should go inside my room,” you say in response to him, pulling down on him, Javi finding he bends with far too much ease as his ear finds itself close to your lips, “I’m not quiet when I’m enjoying myself.”

Twisting you, he flattens your back to his chest, rough, hearing you breathlessly laugh. “You know what you’re doing, baby, huh?”

And you’re silent, brain whirring as he begins walking you, till your chest is almost against your door.

Open it, he whispers, watching your hand dig for the key, his mouth latching to your neck, swirling a circle on your skin, tasting lingering perfume and sweat as he grips your waist.

“Last chance.”

He hears you laugh, low, buried somewhere in your throat just as the door unlocks, all loud, cutting through the silence other than both of your racing breaths. It’s why, he supposes, his words echo in his stare as you turn your head. Rolling your lips. It's all so reminiscent of the stare you gave him at the foot of his desk—but this time, you collide your mouth with his.

Not leaving—not doing anything except turning in the space between your door and him. Those nails, the ones that tapped now scrape across his hair, burying, carding, as you lightly pull on strands—forcing a groan to bury itself in your throat, find a new home, live there.

It's quick, practically animalistic the way he sheds your layers—baring you, finding (unsurprising) that even in misery you still match. His fingers run over it on your hip, rolling his lips, the tip of his tongue swiping across as he admires, as he steals a second to commit you to his mind.

Because he’s not sure if he’ll ever get to again.

“Last chance,” you echo.

Repeating his words, using them against him. Flicking the fabric against your skin, he snorts and he flips you. Sharply telling you to get on your bed, all-fours—bend over, hermosa.

“This how you pictured it at your desk?”

He barely registers your words until he’s behind you, bare, hand sliding between your thighs as he smirks at the noise you make. How you take him, all the way up to his knuckles—his free hand stroking himself to the in and out his other hand sets, desperation mixing with a need to forget—for a moment peace from thinking, existing, being.

And you’re drenched. Practically desperate. Hips moving with his movements and strokes, the air tinged with the littlest whimpers before replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, dragging it, skating it spitefully over your slick folds.

That’s when it meets his ears, those distinct words—ones he doesn’t know will haunt him just yet—I want to feel you inside me, Peña.

It unlocks something—floods him. Taking in a breath before he glides in, burying himself in you, right to the hilt, going deep.

He revels in your tightness. The way you gasp at the feel of him—fingers digging, scrunching them into your sheets, before he wrenches you up off your hands, needing your back flush with his—a move he realises, painstakingly, he’s done before.

Softening his palm anchored on your hip, lips pressing to your jaw—the other hand busy feeling, enjoying, basking in how you swallow against his palm on your neck.

“You like that, princesa?”

You moan as his hips snap, taking him so well, so perfectly—a thing he tells you, a rush of good girl, good princesa taking me like this. And he expects a bite, a flurry of insults—an exchange that would mean this would shift from stress relief to hate fucking.

But it never arrives. Instead, it’s a barrage of chants, all yes, please, yes, painting the shitty room—giving the crumbling paint something to be disgusted at, other than its own despair. The metal legs of the bed squeal against the floor, the headboard hammering, and cluttering, leaving a mess of years of repainting along the cheap flooring.

“Take me so well. Y’know that?”

Fingers just above your collarbone, pressing, feeling your head resting on his shoulder, eyes seeking his, determined to locate them and take something from him for it. He lets you. Briefly, just enough.

“Harder, Peña,” you hiss, shoving it out through clenched teeth, blinking, breaking the eye line.

“Javi,” he hisses deep into your ear, hand sliding down between your thighs—above where the two of you are joined.

Thumb expertly swirling, tracing the letters of his name against your throbbing clit—the sound of his cock fucking into you growing louder, sloppier. Arm thrown around your waist, feeling the way your skin is sheened in sweat, practically a mess from head to fucking toe, all because of him. Crown slid, shattered in a thousand parts across the floor, because of him.

A realisation that almost nears him to the edge, to bursting, to emptying inside your perfect fucking pussy and stuffing you full of him.

Teeth gritted together, jaw tight as he peers at the place your bodies join—watching, in admiration, as you take him, suck him in, barely let him able to leave your tight pussy as your heart hammers against his forearm.

“When I’m doing this to you,” he grunts, teeth pinching at your ear, your hand gripping his wrist—thumb still swirling, the A and V being a favourite from the way you clench around him tighter, and tighter, “You call me Javi.”

It undoes you. It ripples and then bursts through you—clenching all around him, tightening, squeezing him until his vision blurs and your name curls somewhere on his tongue, all set to be spat, spoken, even fucking whispered. Somehow able to swallow it when it unfurls through him, when it shoots up his spine and surges through every nerve and muscle.

The two of you collapsing against the shitty mattress, the squealing bed, as you turn in his grasp—lips finding his, burying words against him, only soft murmurs finding his ears.

He’s hard to avoid.

More so, when a part of you wishes to be a puzzle—a thing he cannot crack. Something that would take time to understand and figure out. Because then you’d be interesting, layered, something that could matter.

All of which, you suspect he knows when he kisses you after having his face buried before your thighs, tongue saturated in you, now licking into your mouth.

There’s something truthful in it, in the way his palm cups your entire jaw and chin, holding you, keeping you rooted for a few moments before you taste yourself on his tongue and can take note of what he’s done to you. For you.

Except, you don’t meet his eyes. Somehow fearful the space between your thighs has spilled all your secrets to him. Because he’s a connoisseur, likely gifted in being able to decipher the text on your inner walls. Hooked nose dragging along your slick core before coming up for air and seeing how ordinary you were, how boring, how average. He’s likely traced the pads of his fingers over the etchings of all the things that haunt your mind, the things that thrum and go bump in the fucking night.

But he comes back. Again, and again.

And you can't understand why.

You don’t ask either. Instead, you bury any of that against his tongue, and when it’s desperate to come out, a wish to ask him, you instead choose with fluttering lashes and parted lips if you can suck his cock. If he can fuck your throat, if he can stuff you full in one end before the other—

Words can’t escape if your tongue is occupied.

A thing harder to do in the day-to-day. As things around the place return to normal—other priorities sweep over and make people forget their sadness.

It’s why you’re not avoiding him, but you haven’t sought him out.

Too afraid of what you’ll confess when you’re not on your knees. A simple softening of his brown eyes almost forces words to rip up your throat and colour the air.

It won’t do any good. No words will. Not after waking again entangled in an empty sheet. All evidence of his presence gone except the littering of bruises on your hips and thighs and the mess between your legs.

It’s easier, less complicated to keep it like this—a thing you tell yourself as you brush your teeth and wash the leftover tang of him from your mouth.

Stress release, an undoing, an antidote to sadness and a bandage that allows you a moment to heal. You don’t judge him, because he doesn’t judge you either—not the first time, the second or the tenth. Because like recognises like—eyes deciphering how you’re not that different from him.

On the surface, you may pretend to be. Layer secrets and annoyances on top of the other, until it slips into something perfect—a mask, one that any of them can’t peer through and see that you see them all. Because working here is more than hard, it’s more than difficult and often rough.

It’s mornings with your forehead resting on your door wondering if you have it in you and moments alone in dark corners silently wiping away tears.

Most people don’t see your brain, your skills all too quickly forgotten, discarded on the same bit of paper the rest of your history lived when you approached for the role.

You reckon he sees you.

Not because you hoped for it—or because of some teenage fantasy. But, because of the way he looked that night at his desk. Not surprised, but confused as to why you were mainly pushing paper, why you weren’t based where he was, doing what he does. All questions you’ve asked yourself late at night, when your mind doesn’t stop ticking, stop whirring.

You suspect he ticks too. Another thing in common.

While he may have begun his dalliances to gain words, secrets, and stories, you have come to recognise it’s more than that. You know he knows all the names of them—likely lingers in their room. Offering them more than a good time and some money, but something he seeks from them too—companionship, a moment where he’s not DEA and rather something akin to a lover.

From the way he holds himself, Javi doesn’t think he shares that information. But it rolls from him in constant waves when he lights another smoke and drowns his throat in whatever is in his mug. He likes to think he’s effortless and austere, all too weighed down, while being complex, brilliant and wonderful.

It’s why you had wanted to fuck him. Why you had fucked him.

Because, objectively, he is beautiful. All soft in places and firm in others; he has scorching eyes and can offer searing touches. But, under all of that is what made heat blossom up your spine and commanded your thighs to press together for relief.

The way he thinks. The way he shifts his jaw from side to side and traces his finger down the length of his nose. It’s the way he holds himself when he doesn’t have to hold himself at all that makes you want him.

As it makes you feel less alone.

Less like an oddity in how you need to carve your nails into something. Your palm, other people’s flesh; wood, your sheets. All of it just so you become grounded, so there was pain, so there were feelings, so you didn’t float off or drown in a sea of mistakes, regrets and guilt.

It was a combination of both that floating and drowning as to why it happened that first time.

It had been a simultaneous tangling of limbs, a battle, a war both of you attempted to claim—a fight with your mouths, thighs, hands, tongues and bodies. Only stopped when you were both slick with sweat, the tops of your thighs coated with him and your breaths laboured. Your ear to his chest, hearing it—the way he beats, the way he lives. How blood rushes through him, all alive, real, not a fabrication.

Now, though, it’s different.

The grief is lessoned, yet you still find yourself pretending it's as rife as that first night.

A compromise, an opportunity to pretend that’s the reason the two of you do this. When in truth, the reason you don’t judge him, is because you too use sex to feel something. Needed it to claim something, prove something to yourself—that you’re desirable, attractive and fucking wanted. That you’re more than a sharp tongue and a brilliant mind, more than compliments through your way that never land—

That you’re worthy of being fucked to the point you cannot walk straight.

And, he does that so well, twists you, bends you—makes your ears ring with how attractive you are, how good you are, how perfect. A sin that rages a storm in his dreams and a thought he can’t silence.

So you avoid him. Fearful that you no longer wish to feel worthy of being fucked, but be worthy of being fucked by him.

And then he finds you instead.

Palm shoving open the file room door, all loud, like an announcement, before he lets it click into place. Allowing the air to tighten, to squeeze—all so thickening—before he’s charging, so much so the breath is knocked from your lungs with far too much ease when he flattens your back to the wall. The dust blowing from the shelves next to you from the sudden movement, the room quaking, shaking and fucking trembling as his brown eyes flick from one eye to the next.

As though he’s seeking something out.

Some truth, perhaps? A reason, a rhyme.

He splays his fingers across your hip, a hiss trying to escape from your pursed lips as your body threatens to betray you—wishing to curl into him, feel him flush, all warm and easy to escape to. Then, the other finds a home on the wall beside your head, no place to move to, to go—not that you fucking want to.

“I don’t fuck in file rooms, Peña.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. All well-versed, practically a library of quick retorts. “Where do you fuck then? Just your room?”

Surrounded by him, in all the ways that could torture. Nose smothered in the scent that is unabashedly him; eyes unable to look anywhere but him. Slowly, bothersomely, he begins to easily unpick the carefully placed resolve, practically cracking through like it was made of paper and not woven each night as you attempt to stop thinking about him.

Sometimes, it’s easier to think about him.

To snake your hand inside your underwear and ride your fingers with how much you loathe how good he feels. His name is both a curse and a fucking blessing on the tip of your tongue when you come—heat licking up your spine, washing you in something you suspect should be a shame.

But it never is.

Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.

Instead, you leave that, fold it up, and make it as small as it can be, before you undress for him. Then you fixate on his eyes, on the darkness, the way his pupils swallow the colour you know all the flecks off. You stare, because you hope to see yourself in them—an outline, a shadow, evidence of living, remaining, not chipped away until you’re just stiff work attire and coffee. Something, anything—

Especially when you’re bare. When he stares at you like you’ve been carved for him, by him. When he makes you feel weightless and also like you are never allowed to be anywhere but right here.

It’s an illusion though. A trick of your mind—a delusion where want, need and hope all blend into a concoction that is sold in pink bottles and smells like fruit.

Lifting your chin, you want to chill your eyes and harden your expression. Neither happens.

You’re thrown from your axis, deep brown managing to shroud you, make your mind empty, clear.

“We don’t have to fuck,” he continues, letting it slide from his tongue—slither out, practically hissing. “There’s plenty of ways I can make you moan.”

“I’m sure there is. You’ve paid for the practice, after all.”

His chuckle does nothing to stem the fire—the one out of control somewhere in the pit of your stomach. Clothes suddenly uncomfortable on your skin, your earlier standpoint waning, thinning to the point of transparency.

“Yeah, but I bet you’ve been getting off to thoughts of me—us. How fucking good we are,” he retorts.

Your face blanks, and you hope it’s unreadable.

Because you already have witnessed how skilful he is. Had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing him hold his desk phone since, how he grips his gun, marvelling at the memory of how his fingers feel inside of you, both long and thick. How they engulf yours, practically able to grasp both your wrists in his one hand if he wishes.

But, from the glint in his eye, he’s seen you. Already solved you—cracked you.

“You only had to ask, princesa. Would never leave you wanting.”

You snarl. And it’s that which forces your lips to crash against his, steal more lines from his tongue and tease his mind. Ridding him for once, shaking him empty as your hands clutch the sides of his cheeks. Thankful, more than you care to fucking admit, that his tongue slides past your lips, moves past the back of your teeth—accompanied, and wrapped with it, a groan that vibrates down to your oesophagus.

Bodies pressed together, his mouth slanting over yours as though he’s been wishing to do this for as long as you have. Dizzying, heart-stopping—that’s what kissing him feels like. That’s what indulging feels like.

“I don’t like you.”

Smirking, he runs it over your swollen lips, traces his confidence over your mouth. “Your pussy does though.”

His hand moves, snakes between the two of you—fingers proficient, unwavering from their mission—undoing your trousers, zip sliding down, cutting between the silence as your mouths part, lips ghosting, breaths twisting together in the small gap.

The space is filled with a moan when his hand slides inside your underwear, fingers brushing the delicate nerves that make his name illuminate in your head like it’s been spelt out in light—in candles.

“See? Soaked. Drenched, aren’t you, princesa?”

Your head spins, legs weaken. Body betraying you as it rocks against his movements, curling, craving—desperate and hungry. Because you knew it would be good, that he’d be good. There’s no smoke without fire, and there’d be no discussion over shitty baked cake and decent coffee about his skills if he weren’t best-in-class.

“So fuckin’ needy for me, aren’t you?”

It’s there, ebbing on your tongue, yes, yes yes.

And fuck, you didn’t have him down to be like this. To have you at his mercy, practically dumbfounded, his name and a yes the only things you know, think or say. It falls, rolling from your tongue before his lips busy yours. Kissing you as if he’s starved, as if he wishes to coat his tongue in the way you moan against him—his hand getting slicker, coated in your faux hatred and practised indifference that holds no weight now.

Because you want him. Would gladly let him spin you around and, press your face against a case file box and kick your legs apart. You’d beg for it, want him to hold your hands behind your back as he spears his cock in and out of you, not giving a single fuck that someone could come in—

“Stop thinkin’ about what I could do to you, and more what I am doing to you.”

His eyes on you, blown, full of lust and shimmering with a desire that embeds into your skin until it reaches a whole new temperature. Your tongue is heavy and thick, as your throat struggles to swallow.

If anything, it proves he can listen—just to what he wants. And apparently, that is you. Making it flicker, it suddenly impending, slamming itself onto the track with a focus on its station.

“Think y'like being naughty and letting me do this here.”

Your nerves ablaze, legs quaking as your trousers slide a little further past your knee, pooling at your ankles—his breath dancing across your neck and little hairs.

In vengeance, you nip at his lips, charming kisses that leave him chasing—breaths tangling, teeth biting your bottom lip as you tilt your head. But, he’s resilient, unwavering, hand all but burning inside your underwear, fingers rough, middle and trigger finger calloused and pressed against your swollen nerves as you dig your toes into your shoes so you don’t unravel.

So he doesn’t get to have this so easily.

He knows.

You know he does. Likely knows your brain is firing, tension building, muscles all but quaking in faux-determination. Just barely present to hear what he whispers, but you know it pushes you over.

Gently guides you over the edge as your hips still, throat hoarse as it whispers moans, falling, descending from you as you quickly lose control. He makes you feel alive, full of electricity—blood pumping in your ears as he tastes the way you moan his name. Waves hammering against you, suddenly needing to crash, and they do, they do—

“Fuck, I love making you come.”

His chest rising and falling, pebbled sweat on his brow as he retracts his hand, offers a finger to you—finding you wrap your mouth around it, basking in how he says you’re his good girl.

You suppose that’s why he ends up at your base door past midnight—a silent exchange, a non-verbal promise.

Him and you. You and him.

A brown bag in hand; corruption and a need to not sleep present in his eyes. Drinking you in, lingering his eyes up and down your frame—a sheet clutched against your chest.

You suspect he knows that under this thin fabric, its lace, all ready to be snapped, thrown into some corner, the places they sat covering replaced by the wet expanse of his mouth.

It’s why you let him in, mouth conjoining to his, hearing the door slam behind him as you ruck the leather from his shoulders, down his arms, floor.

“He estado pensando en ti toda la noche.”

A part of you knew he’d come—sensing it. Dressing for the occasion, sliding the lace into place.

Because you know him as much as he understands you.

It’s why you smile, if only to yourself, when he spreads your thighs, coats his cock in your want, and sinks deep into you, rectifying all that is wrong, groaning into your neck as you feel thankful for being full again.

He shouldn’t think you’re a vision, but he does.

Javi learned it quickly, but ignored it at a speed faster than that. Not wanting to be in awe, not wanting to allow himself the chance to think of himself worthy of it.

Except, he’s forever salivating for more of you—desperate for another chance to taste, to hear how your whimpers sound, feel the way your fingers card through his hair, gripping, twisting, pulling.

If someone asked him, he’d confess it on his knees that it’s all he’s thought about. The way your nails feel, how your skin feels. The noises—fuck, the noises you make—and the way your eyes glisten, shimmer, bloom and explode with fucking desire.

“Javier…”

I know, he soothes. The sheet ripped from between the of you, discarded, removed from play as your fingers work his buttons open—more and more skin appearing until he can feel the warmth of your body, your tits against him, nipples peaked as the back of your legs meets the bed.

He’s surprised at the ease you fold for him. Dragging him down, and then you’re under him. Obedient, waiting, needy. He knows it. You know it.

Just like it’s probably obvious that you make him want. That he’s ticking, watching you, unable to tear his eyes away, more so since the other night. Your face close, eyes on the file, cogs turning, brain firing on all cylinders—and when you’d slid your eyes over, he hadn’t been able to not drop his sight to your lips.

The same way he suspects you hadn’t been able to fight doing the same yourself.

It’s why he fucks you with an increased pace, skin slapping, moans more deranged than usual. The drenched fabric between your legs pushed to the side as he drags moan from your lips, wringing them out, stuffing them into some cabinet in his mind that he only opens when he can’t have this, you, writhing, squirming as he fills you to the brim, stuffs you.

“Gotta taste you.” His tongue slides a line down your breastbone, eyes on you, fixated, waiting. “Can I?”

He’s fucking grateful that you nod. Moving, sinking to his knees on the hard floor of your base room—cock hard, dripping, all but throbbing and practically fucking angry. Fingers teasing the fabric, his mouth latching, lace and the taste of him and your desire singeing on his tongue.

And you’re heavenly—a rolling thought which appears as he licks, hearing you react, capturing it all, pocketing it.

Waiting, and waiting, until he feels it—you carding your nails through his hair, tracing lines you likely already suspect others have walked themselves. He wonders if you’re thinking it must be nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary for him, except it was, is.

Because it’s you, they were your fingers—your nails. The ones that type up his reports these days because he can’t type for shit, now typing a story into his scalp, leaving a tale for him to decipher when he tried to sleep later.

He doesn’t look up, too fearful of the sight that he’ll find and never be able to rid of. He keeps his head buried between your thighs, focused, panties still hooked on one thigh, hanging there, pointless and occasionally catching on his palm as he grasps and squeezes your leg. All focused, moving his tongue, working it on you, in you, as though attempting to sort out a kink in the chain—attempting to unravel you in the same way he has done others.

Except, Javi learns, you’re not like them. You’re not something linear, you’re not easy to understand, and there’s no transaction at the end. You’re more than a concept, more than a thing he can undo and figure out just with his tongue, but fuck, he’s sure you would let him try—or at least, he hoped you would.

Right now, he’s enamoured with a task that he finds more rewarding than asking: making you come.

Tongue sinking in, tasting you, coating all of his mouth that he can with you as your hips buck into his face. Nails all perfectly manicured and in a lighter shade than when it was wrapped around his cock last week, drag through his hair. The air punctured with his name—all Javi and Javier’s, not Peña’s and Putas.

He wonders as he spells it on your bundle of nerves, whether you feel it too. This thing—this pulsating, breathing, existing thing that is there all on its own.

A click of his jaw when you laugh at someone else; a flex of his fingers when he finds you in the heart of danger.

Javi reflects—thinks.

But then it goes, fades from mind like dust when you tug on him to move closer, so close your thighs are trembling—likely dangling on the edge of release.

“Need your cock, Javi.”

He doesn’t think about feelings, emotions or the flame he carries for you again—not until you’ve left, leaving him alone, sated, the memory and scent of you being all he has.

The base of his palm presses against his forehead, kneading, cigarette billowing in his other hand because it’s all a fucking mess. From the fact that the fantasy has turned into a reality; the dream has coloured itself until it has become true.

He knew this was real, not concocted by some blackened part of his imagination looking for an escape because you say his name more sweetly than you do in his reverie.

It’s a secret—not known, a thing kept unseen. His walls and sheets know, but not a living soul. And he suddenly wants to change that. Says so much as he moans that you’re mine.

Eyes widening as they stare down at him, hands poised on his chest, hips steadying as you remain seated—filled with him, tits slowly not bouncing.

So he repeats it, “You’re mine.”

No question, no ask.

Watching you swallow, painted in yellow-light which makes the sweat shimmer like glitter.

Rolling your hips, you hold his gaze, consider it, likely question your own goddamn sanity. But then you say it:

“Yours, Peña. I’m yours.”

And he knows he liked it. More than he’ll ever admit. Coming so hard and so quick inside of you once your mouth has twisted into an O and your nails have branded lines into his chest. Hearing it, over and over as he spills into you, relishes in it.

It’s only after, when Javi runs his knuckles along the underside of his jaw, thoughts populating, appearing and popping like balloons, he realises he doesn’t just like it.

It’s more than that.

And that’s why, more than he likely should, he wished he’d asked you to stay. To remain beside him. Let him hold you and make your morning a little better.

Javi could ask. Could half-dress and hammer his fist on your door.

But he doesn’t.

There’s always next time, though.

an: grins wickedly, thought i'd try something new.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña x reader smut #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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verlovestaylor13 · 1 year

Text

Dear Reader...

Hi @taylorswift and @taylornation. The twins are back to give you The Story of Us ... updated 2023 edition❤️✨

What a journey these 16 years have been with you. You don’t know me, but hi my name’s Veronica! I’m 28 (turning 29 on 8/11!) and my IDENTICAL twin Victoria (@viclovestaylor13) and I have loved you for years. Your music has quite literally been the soundtrack of our lives.

Vic and I haven’t had the easiest past, to sum it up. We wouldn’t be the people we are today If it wasn’t for your love, strength, music and radiating happiness. Although you don’t know it, we’ve grown up together and experienced impressive milestones with you being a constant along the way. I’m not good at this whole tumblr thing, let alone getting you to see my post amidst the millions I’m sure you’re exposed to. But hey, we can’t ever give up hope! So that’s what I’m doing, here’s to never giving up. And here’s to always hoping that my twin sister and I will one day have the chance to tell you EVERYTHING and most importantly, thank you for everything that you’ve truly done for us. Fun fact is that we’re from Rhode Island so all of our experiences at your tours have been at our favorite place….GILLETTE STADIUM!!!

✨✨Okay lets start from the first tour we were able to attend! As you scroll down you’ll see us through the years until we reach 2023 at the bottom ❤️

——————————————————————————-

🌈🌈🌈☂️Speak Now Tour 6/26/11 ✨

This was the first time we saw you!! Trust me when I say we wanted to see you MANY times before this but we were young and had no $$$. This show was a combination birthday and Christmas present.

Seeing you live for the first time changed us, to say it was magical is a complete understatement.

——————————————————————————-

🌹Red Tour 7/26/13 & 7/27/13 ✨

These shows were OF COURSE at Gillette Stadium! Vic and I saved up our money so that we could be at BOTH nights!! After the speak now tour we knew we never wanted to miss a single night. We picked up extra shifts at work and didn’t splurge on anything so that we could be there, buy merch and have the time of our lives. It was incredible and yes it did rain. We happily danced in ponchos.

———————————————————————————

🎀1989 World Tour 7/24/15 & 7/25/15✨

Of course my sister Vic and I once again picked up extra shifts at work, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and saved our money to be at both nights! I can still picture those nights as if it was yesterday…it’s crazy how much fun we had. This was during a tough year and having your shows to look forward to really helped us more than you could ever know.

———————————————————————————

🐍REPUTATION TOUR 7/26/18, 7/27/18 & 7/28/18✨

As it has been with all your prior tours, my sister Vic and I saved up our money and gave up on certain things to afford to be there for ALL THREE (3) NIGHTS!! This time we were able to save enough money to afford our outfits! We dressed up and made friends with Gillette staff because of it!!! See the pics below 😇 The rep tour forever lives in our hearts and we’re constantly watching videos and crying lol.

————————————————————

Lover Fest 🌈🌻💐🌸

Vic and I spent over TWELVE (12!!) hours to get tickets for lover fest east! Luckily between using our phones at work and carrying portable chargers, we secured dates to BOTH of the shows at gillette!

...March 2020

We know what this month and honestly the whole year brought into the world. Vic and I started as REGISTERED NURSES on March 2, 2020...and the federal shutdown in the United States quickly followed suit. Here we were, 2 brand new nurses working amidst a pandemic with no vaccine at the time and people passing away at an astronomical rate. Significant sacrifices were made this year and with that we know that Lover Fest was canceled. Being FRONTLINE WORKERS, Vic and I thought it was the best decision to cancel lover fest given the critical nature of the world. We were of course extremely sad, but it was the best for everyones safety. You continued to be our guidance while the nature of hospital systems turned into crisis scenarios. There were countless nights of physical as well as emotional breakdowns as we tried to navigate this unfamiliar world of nursing during a global pandemic. It was a long few months that turned into years - and now writing this in 2023 the pandemic is not over, but there is a newfound hope. We even wore the “I’m Feeling 2022″ headband to work our NYE night shift in 2021! That was until it had to be removed to go into covid isolation rooms, but it was still present! I attached the picture below.

————————————————————

Fast forward to us now... and somehow it’s 2023?!

We have come out stronger than ever and now we are ready for The Eras Tour in our home aka Gillette Stadium!!! Like the tours in the past, we knew we had to be at ALL THREE (3) NIGHTS! We saved up and through all the rough shifts in the hospital, we knew a tour would be in the horizon as a reward. We couldn’t be more excited to be happy, free, confused and NOT lonely with the best people...Taylor Swift fans.

✨✨✨

❤️ The Eras Tour 5/19/23, 5/20/23, 5/21/23 ✨

Let’s do this!!!!!

✨✨✨

Here’s where you can find us having the best days💃🏻

🪩FRIDAY MAY 19: Section A5, row 1, seats 11&12

🌟 SATURDAY MAY 20: Section A9, row 3, seats 3&4

💎SUNDAY MAY 21: Section A12, row 19, seats 7&8

———————————————————————————

And then later in 2023...

Vic is getting MARRIED👰❤️ this October!!! I’m hosting her Bridal Shower on July 9th 2023 (I think we all know the significance of that date!) I’m also throwing her a LOVER THEMED BACHELORETTE in August! There will be references to the other eras as well just for fun! Then of course we have lyrics from your songs referenced EVERYWHERE for Vic’s wedding. Beautiful and meaningful lyrics selected to help tell Vic’s love story with Brandon. See the pictures I attached below!

Also, let us know if you guys @taylornation @taylorswift want to come because “...at every table, I’ll save you a seat” 🦋

There’s a standing invite to any and all festivities, always❤️

———————————————————————————————————

It has always been and will always be you, @taylorswift. Thank you for every. single. thing. We owe a lot of our success to you and one day we hope to tell you all about it✨❤️

Until then, thank you for being you and being a constant all these years. Your Rhode Island twin nurses love you more than can ever be explained. Eternally grateful.

Long live🦋❤️🐱

- Veronica (Twitter: @va13x) & Victoria (Twitter: @viclynn24)

@taylorswift @taylornation

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lackadaisycats · 4 months

Note

Hello, the Honorable Tracy. I have a question, is it true that the new episode of "Slacker" will be released only by the end of 2024? Suddenly, at such a time, people will forget about the project, and even a mini-series will not help.. after all, views drop with every video, and it's sad D:

Slacker? lol, okay.

I am not going to squander this amazing, great fortune I have to make a whole cartoon by half-assing it, nor by crunching incessantly, burning through artists like tinder wood, and risking the whole studio collapsing in on itself just so we can rush deliver something unto an algorithm that's already innately unfriendly to less-than-daily upload rates.

Animation of this nature simply takes a physically long time to produce. Full 2D animated episodes of things you see coming out now from other studios have most likely been in production in one form or another for 1 - 2.5 years before you see them manifest. Sometimes more. What that means for viewership in the future, I don't know. I'll just have to hope the results speak for themselves. If it's any good, maybe people will show up for it.

-------------------------------- EDIT: @rorkimba clarified this was just a translation issue. I should have realized. Apologies for my snark up top! The rest still stands. I could talk at length about why our production schedule is what it is, but this encapsulates much of that reasoning.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

Text

✧ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 || quinn hughes ♔

album & song: evermore ; willow

summary: y/n loves quinn and quinn loves her. they would do everything and anything for each other or some moments in y/n and quinn's relationship that really make them, them

pairings: quinn hughes x best friend!reader (minor luke and jack x platonic!reader)

warnings: parents fighting, crying, fighting, i don't think anything else

notes: hey y'all, a promise is a promise so here is willow! i've really wanted to write this one for a while so i'm happy it's finally done. this is kind of best friends to lovers but really the only time they're best friends is like two parts of the fic but there are references to it. i haven't done a nhl x ts one in a while and i also haven't written a quinn fic in a while so, here's both. i love quinn and i love how this turned out. i'm sorry the last three are kinda of short and i cut out some lyrics but i was getting kinda tired and everything i wrote i hated so this is the best out of all of them. weird side note, i was at one point in the story where it said 'the one' while editing and i was listening to my taylor swift playlist on shuffle (because it gets me in the mood to write) and 'the 1' came on. i swear, stuff like this has been happening so much recently and i don't know why. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

evermore masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

‘I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife’

Senior Year of High School

She was having a tough time, school, finals, graduation, work, everything and anything that she did seemed like it was ganging up on her. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for her stress, but there were many things she could blame it on. On top of it, her parents had been fighting nonstop for the past month. It wasn’t like they hadn’t before but this time it was worse, she felt like she was the cause for it.

Quinn had invited her over for some dinner, hoping to at least relieve some of the stress from his best friend’s shoulders. When she arrived he could see the stress in her face, she looked as if she didn’t really want to come in the first place.

He stepped aside and let the girl in, “Hey, y/n/n.”

“Hi, Quinn.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She ran a hand through her hair before following Quinn to his room, saying hi to Ellen on the way. Ellen looked at the girl strangely, “Hi, y/n.”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ellen, hon.” She pressed a kiss to her head, “Are you okay? You look-”

Bad? Drained? Streseed? Annoyed? Tired? All of the above? Is what she wanted to say, but didn’t, “I’m just a little tired right now.” Ellen nodded but looked unconvinced, shooting her oldest a look who also nodded his head.

He lightly took the girl’s arm and took her to his room, offering her to sit on his bed which she took gratefully. She looked around his room and at the posters on his wall before looking over at where he now sat at his desk. He was already looking at her with a small smile on his face, concern still lingering in his eyes.

The two stared at each other for a moment before a knock was heard on the door, “Hi.”

The two looked over to see his brothers standing there, “Hi Jack, Luke.”

Quinn didn’t reciprocate his best friend’s kindness, “What do you two want?”

“We just wanted to give y/n this.” Luke pulled out one of his bear stuffed animals from behind his back, “You looked sad.” Jack stood there, slightly out of place, mostly because this was Luke’s idea instead of his, but he liked y/n enough to go with him.

“Awe, thanks, you guys.” Tears made their way to the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall in front of the two.

Noticing her expression, Jack waved goodbye and dragged the eighth grader behind him. Y/n held the bear in her lap, arms wrapping around it tightly as she tried not to think of the events that happened before she got here.

“Y/n/n? Are you sure you're okay, because if not-” Quinn’s overwhelming concern for her made the tears bubble over in her eyes and a sob ripped from her throat, “I can’t do it anymore, Quinny.”

Quinn was quick to get up from his desk chair and stumble over to his bed to wrap the girl in a hug. He knew he didn’t have to do anything but hold her tight as she dug her head into his chest, the stuffed animal still clutched tightly to her chest.

It took her about ten minutes to calm down, tear after tear, and for her it felt like it would never stop. Quinn did what he always did and waited for her to stop so he, or she, could talk about it. He knew if he tried to talk to her while she was crying, she wouldn’t listen, nothing got through to her when she was crying this hard.

When she pulled away to wipe away her tear-stained face, Quinn opened his mouth to talk, “You know you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you can, I’ll always listen.” He reached his hand out to wipe away one tear that she missed, one blackened by her mascara, leaving a trail of the makeup it held behind it.

She held a weak smile on her face at the warmth his hand brought to her cheek and looked at him, “Just finals and other shit like that, the usual. Plus, my parents were fighting again, I think that was my final straw.”

Quinn nodded his head, recognizing the tone in her voice that said she didn’t want to talk. Her face looked more tired after crying and he sighed, scooting back to rest his back against the headboard. Y/n looked at him confusedly but smiled when he opened his arms. She was quick to lay against his front, laying her head on his chest once more, still holding the bear in her grasp.

Ellen walked by twenty minutes later to tell them that dinner was ready, but when she peaked into her son’s room and saw both of them with their eyes closed she smiled, closed the door, and walked away telling the rest of the family to be quiet as they slept.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine’

End of Senior Year/Summer of ‘17

The both of them knew the feelings that they harbored for each other, but were both unsure of how the other felt. Neither one of them wanted to mess up their current friendship, they had been best friends since freshman year.

It had never been that simple between them, their friends saying how they looked like a couple everywhere they went. She would always wear his jerseys to his games or one of his shirts and he would always show up to her events with unwavering support.

Whenever someone saw Quinn, y/n wasn’t too far behind and vice versa, whenever y/n was asked what she was doing that night, she would say hanging out with Quinn and vice versa. They would always be caught holding hands or leaning up against one another or literally any other way that looked like they were dating.

They never said anything though, and they wouldn’t until graduation. Quinn and y/n stood side by side taking a picture with each other as they waited for their parents to find them. Y/n knew Quinn was good at hockey, good enough to get drafted, good enough to make the NHL, it was no secret. But because of Quinn’s birthday that wouldn’t happen for at least another year.

She was worried, she didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want him to become this big-shot hockey player and forget about her, she didn’t want him to become a self-absorbed player with an ego bigger than himself. Though deep down she knew he would never let his ego get that big, but the forgetting part? As much as she told herself he wouldn’t and knew that he wouldn’t she couldn’t get past the ‘what if?’

Quinn waved a hand in front of her face, snapping a couple of times to gain her attention, “Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.” He dragged out the last syllable of her name.

She looked at him, her eyes getting rid of the glassed-over look by blinking, “What?”

“I’ve been talking for the past couple of minutes and you, my dear sweet y/n, have not responded. You have just been-” Quinn looked over to where her focus had landed when she spaced out, “staring at that tree.”

“Oh sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“What’s going to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re going to go to school for one year and then you’re going to get drafted. You’re going to go away somewhere and play professional hockey for a living and you’re going to forget about me.”

“Who said I was going to forget about you?”

“No one, just me and my thoughts.”

“Well, you and your thoughts are wrong, because I could never forget about you.” He tilted her head down to kiss the top of her head.

“That’s what you say now.”

“I’ll you fly out to wherever I’m playing, Nashville, Toronto, Vancouver, anywhere, and I’ll let you punch me if I forget about you because you are the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me. Since freshman orientation, I knew you were the one.”

“Are you just saying that because I was the only one who would talk about hockey with you?”

Quinn being bold, slid his hands underneath y/n’s graduation gown, grabbing onto her waist through the fabric of her dress and pulling her close to him. She stumbled because it was unexpected and she was in heels, causing the boy to apologize before placing his index finger underneath her chin and lifting it so her eyes would meet his, “Look at me.”

She sighed when the two made contact. Quinn noticed the fear in her eyes, she truly didn’t want to lose him and he didn’t either, “I know you’re worried and so am I, but I promise you this-”

She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, the whole bullshit of the promises not to forget about her, she’s read it plenty of times in books, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Quinn.” She diverted her eyes away again, directing them to the other families around them.

“Hey.” Quinn once again moved her head so her eyes had no choice but to look into his own, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Quinn but that doesn’t really change-”

“Just shut up for one minute, will you? I love you, y/n. And I don’t mean the typical I love you that you give to Taylor. I love you and I was too afraid to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I didn’t know how you felt but I thought if there was a time to tell you this, it would be now.”

Y/n looked at him in shock, the words she had been waiting for since she walked into the auditorium for orientation. This wasn’t real life, was it?

Quinn stared at her blank face as she opened and closed her mount a couple of times, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

The boy went to walk away but she placed a hand on his arm, “No! No, I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. I love you too, Quinn.”

“You do?”

She nodded and Quinn wasted no time placing his lips onto hers.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in’

Fall of ‘21

She loved Quinn, she truly did, but not that much that she was willing to stay up into the early hours of the morning/late hours of the night for him after a game. She texted him saying that she was going to bed and that she was proud of him for his game.

It was the first time since they moved in together that Quinn had a night home game. Getting used to the rhythm that was going to be for the rest of Quinn’s hockey career was starting slow. She wasn’t used to him coming home at late hours of the night or leaving in the early hours of the morning before the sun was up to go to practice.

She didn’t mind it that much though, just knowing that he was coming home to her was good enough for the both of them. She laid in bed, hoping that she would be able to stay awake until he got home but she fell asleep within moments of her laying on the bed.

When Quinn got the text, he had just finished putting on his suit jacket and he wanted nothing more than to go home to his girl and lay next to her in their newly shared bed. But, his teammates were not going to let that happen.

They dragged him to a bar to have one or two drinks before heading home. He thinks he’s never detested his teammates this much before this moment. When he finished his first drink, he said goodbye, practically running out of the doors of the bar.

He unlocked the car and practically sped home and crept into the apartment, just in case y/n was already sleeping. He set his things down and walked into the bedroom and smiled when he saw her curled up in the sheets, a shirt of his adorning her body much like in college when he’d go to away games.

He took a quick shower, not wanting to prolong the duration of not having her in his arms. He put a pair of sweatpants on before carefully lifting the covers and sliding into bed. Y/n, who had been awake since he walked in the apartment doors, turned over, “Hi Quinner.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped to his girlfriend’s, “Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was just a little cold and then I heard the front door click open.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?”

“Because then I would’ve had to wait even longer for you to come to bed.”

Quinn smiled, giving her a kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind They count me out time and time again’

2022

_quinnhughes

liked by yourusername, jackhughes, lhughes_06, and 50,161, others

_quinnhughes one of my annual appreciation posts for this girl right here

thank you for nine years of knowing you, they have been the best i've ever known. happy anniversary, my love

tagged yourusername

view 556 comments

yourusername awe quinn, i love you so much! happy anniversary, love ❤️

jackhughes i guess i love you too, happy anniversary to my second favorite couple

⤷ lhughes_06 who's your first favorite?

⤷ jackhughes mom and dad, who else

lhughes_06 happy anniversary yourusername and quinn! y/n you have been like a sister to me

⤷ yourusername see jack, this is what nice siblings do for their siblings partner, thank you lukey!

⤷ jackhughes hey, i said i love you, does that not count for something

⤷ yourusername oh it does, i love you too jack, you too luke

⤷ user01 so fucking ungrateful, she just comes and gets to be an ass to his family 🙄

user02 who the fuck is this?

⤷ user03 i know, she's literally not that special

user04 she's not even that pretty

user05 she has to hide her face because she's so ugly 😂, that's the reason why quinn picked these photos

user06 congratulations you two!

liked by yourusername and _quinnhughes

bboeser happy anniversary y/n and huggy

⤷ yourusername thanks brock!

user07 she's literally so annoying

⤷ user08 ikr, quinn deserves so much better

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind But I come back stronger than a 90's trend’

2022

nhlwags

liked by yourusername, _quinnhughes, and 3,043 others

nhlwags a little birdie told us one of our younger wags made gifts for the whole entire canucks team and staff, what a sweetheart.

happy belated anniversary to quinn hughes and y/n y/l/n!

following, please stop spreading hate about y/n she hasn't done anything to deserve this

tagged yourusername, _quinnhughes

view 218 comments

yourusername it was the least i could do! everyone has been so nice to me and they love quinn so i just reciprocated the love through my own way 💙💚

j.tmiller9 coming from all the canucks and the staff, please be kind to y/n, she has done nothing wrong to any of you and all of us, especially quinn and y/n, would greatly appreciate it. the two of them don't deserve slander for anything. (btw thanks for the bag, y/n!)

liked by _quinnhughes, yourusername, and 200 others

bboeser loved the gift, y/n is truly one of a kind

liked by yourusername

_eliaspettersson y/n is like the wag if i ever saw one

⤷ yourusername i'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not, but thanks anyways petey

⤷ _eliaspettersson definetely a compliment

tdemko30 she really got us all surprised... can we get more cookies by the way?

⤷ yourusername of course!!

user05 she really clapped back at the haters. we stan y/n!

⤷ user09 i know! she is the best ever, did it in the most respectful way ever tbh

user10 the canucks team coming to y/n's defense is the cutest thing ever

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars’

Summer of ‘19

“Meet me at the dock after everyone goes to bed” was the text y/n got at ten o’clock. She smiled to herself when she read it and patiently waited for everyone to go to bed before sneaking out of the house and running down to the dock. Quinn sat with his feet dangling over the wood into the water waiting for his girlfriend. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned around and grinned when he saw her running towards him.

They hadn’t had a moment alone together in almost three months. When Quinn had to fly to Vancouver to make his debut, she couldn’t come with him, having to finish her classes. Then she was staying with her parents for the majority of May and into June and she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Quinn had been finishing up some things with the team and he ended up spending some much-needed time with his family.

Ever since y/n had gotten to the lake house, she had been helping Ellen with things and spending time with Luke and Jack because they wanted her to. They played Mario Kart and other video games, and the two made her go out on the boat with them and made her watch as they did tricks and flipped into the water.

Quinn patted the space next to him but instead, y/n took her spot right on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes widened at the sudden contact but happily wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling into one another.

Y/n looked at him, “So, I guess I’m dating a big-shot NHL player now, huh?”

Quinn merely shrugged, “I guess you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, unfortunately, because he’s living in a totally different country than me and in the opposite direction.”

“Aw, that sucks. I’m sorry to hear that. He must feel terrible.”

“Oh I don’t know, he gets to be a free man.”

“I wouldn’t say free, more sad.”

That comment made her perk up, “What’s wrong?”

“I just, miss you.” His voice ever so slightly cracked and she could see the tears starting to form in his eyes, “Honey. Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

At the nickname, Quinn immediately started crying, he had missed her so much, much more than he ever imagined he would. He never really thought about the fact that his best friend, his girlfriend, his everything would be in Michigan while he was in Vancouver.

“No, it’s not okay. I get to live out my dream but my dream isn’t complete without you there. We’re going to be 2,368.82 miles (3,812.25 km) apart for at least the next two years. I don’t think I can do it.”

Y/n hated it when he cried, it broke her heart into a million pieces when she saw the tears trickling down his face. Much like he always did with her, she reached up and cupped his face, wiping his tears off his face, “Listen to me. We are Quinn and y/n, y/n and Quinn, when has anything ever stopped us from being apart? Where’s the Quinn from when we graduated, huh? The Quinn who promised me that he would never forget me and that everything was going to be okay? Just because we’re however many miles/kilometers you said apart doesn’t mean anything. Now it’s my turn to promise you something. I promise you that we are going to find a way to make this work.”

Quinn nodded his head, still a little unconvinced about her words. In a way to distract him from the thoughts that he never thought he would be able to escape, she looked at the scars on his body and started asking him questions about them.

Some were from his childhood when he, Jack, and Luke would be playing a game or messing around and one of them would throw something at him or he was pushed over. Some were from when he played hockey when he was younger, getting shoved into the boards or shoving someone else into the boards. Some were from the games he played in the spring, his first games in the NHL. Those were y/n’s favorites and least favorites. Favorites because it was from his dream, and the stories behind them would last forever, least favorites because they reminded her of how much he could get hurt doing this. But that wasn’t something she wanted to worry about right now.

All she wanted to do was think about this moment, the moment they were living in as the stars illuminated where they sat on the dock, in each other’s arms, talking about random stories from each other’s childhood.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Now this is an open-shut case Guess I should've known from the look on your face Every bait and switch was a work of art’

Fall/Winter of ‘23

“You guys would never guess what I found when I was cleaning the other day.” Y/n came walking in from the room she had been in.

Jack and Luke sat at the table with Quinn and Ellen and Jim sat near their sons, one of the days leading up to the Hughes v Hughes game. They all smiled as the girl came bounding in, Quinn had just placed down his tiles when she spoke and he raised his eyebrows, “What’d you find, hon?”

Y/n placed a fluffy object down on the wood surface, “Luke’s bear that he and Jack gave me when we were in high school.”

“Paulie?”

“You still remember its name?” Jack laughed loudly and Ellen got up to hit the middle child on the back of his head, “Don’t make fun of you brother.”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit, it's a little funny.”

Luke blushed heavily and Quinn quirked an eyebrow, “Why do you still have that is my question.” He took the bear into his grasp and started fiddling with its arms, “Because.”

She shrugged and all five of the Hughes’ looked intrigued, “Y/n, you have to tell us.” Jack insisted as he leaned forward, messing up the game that had previously been going on. Quinn and Luke groaned at their brother’s actions.

“Because,” She ripped the bear from her boyfriend’s grasp and held it to her chest, “Because it reminds me of that day when I was sad and you guys cheered me up. It was the first day I felt a part of the family.”

“I remember that day.” Luke spoke up, looking between everyone in the room, “Jack and I were sitting on the couch when Quinn opened the door for you and you came in and you looked all…”

“Dead?”

“I was gonna say sad but I guess that works too. Anyway, when you two went up I told Jack my plan and he hesitated about it but I knew he had a soft spot for you so he caved in easily. I ran to my room to get the bear and give it to you.”

“It was a stupid, plan.” Jack laughed again but he knew how much it meant to y/n.

The girl shrugged and hugged Luke from behind, resting her arms on his shoulders as they wrapped around him, classping her hands together, “It’s okay, Luke. I loved it.”

Ellen smiled, “And following, you’ve always been a part of the family. Ever since Quinn came back from freshman orientation just bragging about the girl he met.”

“Mom.” Quinn threw his head back in annoyance and y/n giggled, “You talked to your mom about me? From freshman orientation? Ew, I was just a dork back then.”

“If I remember correctly, Quinn couldn’t stop talking about the girl that wore a Patrick Sharp Blackhawks jersey one or two sizes too big, with her hair in braids who talked about hockey with him for the duration of orientation.” Jim patted his son on his shoulder as Quinn continued to clench his eyes in embarrassment.

“Do we really have to relive this moment?”

“Maybe not now but Ellen and I are definitely going to talk about this when you aren’t around.”

“Hey look at that, she called me Ellen! It only took her ten years.” The woman teased as she wrapped her “daughter” in a hug.

“Hey! I thought I was being respectful, and it’s a force of habit.” Y/n blushed as she smiled and gasped when all of a sudden an armed wrap around her and Quinn pulled her into his lap.

“Quinn!” Quinn hid his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, “I’m never going to live this down.

“Probably not.” Looking at her watch, y/n realized the time, placing a kiss on Quinn’s forehead.

“I should be going to bed, I got work in the morning. Night everyone!”

The four let out their goodnights and Quinn whispered an ‘I love you’ and y/n repeated the words to him before heading into their shared bedroom. The five Hughes’ sat in the kitchen for a couple of minutes in silence until Jack spoke, “So, when are you asking her?”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘The more that you say The less I know’

Freshman Year of College (17-18)

Sitting at one of the tables in the student center, y/n sat across from Quinn as he talked about whatever was going on in the hockey world. She understood hockey, enough to be able to watch the game when it was happening and she knew some of the stats, but anything past that, not a clue in the world.

She loved it when Quinn talked about hockey though. His eyes lit up and held this glint in them, he talked really fast, just spewing out nonsense. It was the highlight of her day when it happened, it was at least once a day if not more. He would always show up outside her dorm room or offer to take her to dinner.

Every time he did, it always took Quinn a while to notice that his girlfriend wasn’t responding and this was the same. Quinn was rambling about Ohio State’s hockey team and the upcoming game against them and she just sat there, amused by his voice and his facial expressions.

Quinn was halfway through his ramble when he finally made eye contact with her, “You’re not paying any attention to this are you?”

“I’m sorry, babe, but it’s really hard to when you look like that when you talk.”

“Look like what? An idiot for not knowing my girlfriend is not listening to any word I say?”

“No, hot.” Quinn’s cheeks reddened as he looked at her, “You never fail to make me blush do you/”

“Absolutely not, and anyway, you know I never understand hockey. I try but it’s all in one ear and out the other.”

“I think one time we need to set up something so you can learn everything you need to know. Get you a book or make you a slide show or something.”

“Sure, Quinny. Whatever you say.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Wherever you stray I follow’

September of ‘21

“You can just put that box over there.”

Jack placed down the box where y/n said, “How much stuff do you have?”

“Wow, Jack. Can’t believe you’d be so mean to me. This is why Luke is my favorite.” Y/n placed her arm around Luke as he walked into the apartment, “What?”

“Nothing, you poor innocent little man.” Y/n walked away to start unpacking the box Jack had placed down not too long ago.

“Do you guys need any help?” Luke asked politely following after his brother’s girlfriend.

“Nah, I’m okay. Thanks you guys, just chill out for a little bit before we go out for dinner.” The two nodded sitting on Quinn’s, and now y/n’s, couch.

Just at that moment, Ellen walked in from the hallway and Quinn followed her, “It would be nice of you two to actually help y/n instead of just sitting there.”

Jack threw his arms up, “We offered to help her and she said no!”

“Actually, I offered but yes, she said it was okay.”

Y/n nodded her head, “I did.”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Later that night, y/n and Quinn were standing in the living room, looking out the window. Quinn was standing behind the girl with his arms wrapped around the waist, “I can’t believe this is real.”

“I know, the lights are beautiful.”

“Not that.”

“Then what?” She looked up at him to see a lovesick expression on his face.

“You here, in Vancouver.”

“Hey, you didn’t want me to be here in the first place.”

“Yeah well, I wanted you to do what was best for you. I didn’t want you to move all the way out here just because I was here.”

“How dumb are you?”

“Very, apparently.”

She smiled again and rocked the two of them side to side, “Whatcha wanna do?”

Quinn just winked at her eliciting a giggle from her.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man’

July/August of ‘21 + November 7, 2021

“Quinn please!”

“Y/n, I’m not letting you do this. You had it all planned out since the moment we both got our acceptance letters.”

“I know that Quinn, but things change, plans change. I want to be with you, forever. I want to be wherever you are, please just let me come to Vancouver with you.”

The two stared at each other, eyes locked. They had been arguing for the past hour, ever since y/n brought it up. She had just graduated college and with Quinn having been in the NHL for the past two years she got a taste of what it would be like to do long distance, and it was horrible for both of them.

“You know what is like. These past two years have been horrible, Quinn, and not just for me and you know it.” Her voice cracked, “I would rather wreck everything I have planned for my future just to move to Vancouver for you. I can find a job there.”

“Are you sure, like 100% sure about this?” Y/n placed her hands on his cheeks, “Of course, I’m sure.”

Quinn nodded his head, “When do you want to move in?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

It was November when y/n was able to go to Quinn’s first home game. It was a Sunday and they were playing the Stars. She was extremely excited as she threw on her jersey and drove to Rogers Arena. She met up with some of the wags that were going to the game as well and they sat in the suite waiting for their husbands to start playing.

When they all came out, they cheered in unison watching them skate. They conversed slightly, giving y/n teasing comments and glances every time the announces would mention Quinn or he had done something even remotely good for the team. It was worse when he got sent to the penalty box for cross-checking in the first period.

Most of them gave her cheeky grins when they showed him in the box, some giving her nudges. She blushed deeply as they made their comments. She didn’t know what was up with him tonight, he got three primary assists and a penalty.

After the game, the wags excitedly took the girl down to the tunnel to wait for Quinn, “Hey, there’s your man.”

Y/n looked up and smiled, “That is my man.”

Quinn smiled brightly, picking the girl up and spinning her around, “I can’t believe you’re here! You’re actually here!”

“Alrighty, Quinny, calm down. You’re causing a scene.”

“Sorry, babe. I’m just really excited that you’re here.” He smiled down at her, his hands on her lower biceps, just above her elbow, “I can tell.”

“What do you say, you guys want to go out for dinner?”

“Quinn I got work in the morning. I need some sleep. Maybe another time though?” The girls nodded their heads at y/n and let the young couple wander off out of the arena and to their car.

“I’m really glad you’re here. I don’t know if I would’ve survived another minute without knowing you weren’t waiting at home for me.”

“Well, you never have to survive another minute without me again. Unless you’re on a road trip then, yes, but you know what I mean.”

Quinn and y/n were so in love it was actually kind of annoying to some people, but they had to admit that they were absolutely adorable.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #sunnylunenhlxts #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #taylor swift #evermore #willow #Spotify

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fadingdaggerr · 2 months

Note

hey! I just wanted to see if I could request a Melissa x Reader fic where basically r is a teacher at the school and her best friend is ava, and r has the fattest crush on melissa ever but the only ones who know are ava, barbra, and mr johnson (bc dude knows everything)

and ava and barbra are trying to be wingman because melissa likes r. so just a bunch of mutual pining and fluff. and when they confess it’s snowing.

if you can’t do that that’s totally fine! but if you do thanks in advance and take your time

as you ever were

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above | 8k

includes: mutual pining, ava and barb meddling, kinda dialogue heavy oops, these bitches Oblivious, author is a classics nerd

warnings: (minimal) they/them pronoun use for R, sexual innuendos, (brief) alcohol consumption, kissing/light making out

note: sorry i took so long getting to this req. school started up and work is genuinely insane. plus i got a little too into writing this so editing too a little while. i actually really like how this turned out :)

Unforecasted frozen rain forced recess to be inside, everyone was to just stick to their classroom since there was no time to prepare the gymnasium for indoor recess on such short notice. The kids spent the first five minutes of recess begging you to go outside, to which you open the window, to which Sean says oh, hell no, resulting in a scolding from you.

Within five more minutes, your teacher-senses begin to tingle. Something is wrong. Looking up from your record book, you glance around the classroom until your eyes land on Karam. The seven year old had just moved to Philly with his parents a few weeks ago, and with this being his first week at a new school, he has been understandably frazzled. The boy is facing towards your desk, away from his classmates, sitting on a beanbag chair and crying to himself.

Immediately, you rise out of your chair and approach him gently, lowering yourself to sit criss-cross in front of him. “Hey, Karam. What’s going on?” you ask calmly, not trying to draw attention to his state nor baby him. The only response you get is a shake of the head, so you ask, “would you like some alone time right here?” Another shake of the head, another question, “do you want to talk alone, just you and me? You can bring Pickle.”

This offer seems to appease him, he instantly stands and goes to his backpack to grab his beloved stuffed sea lion. You get to the doorway and keep your hand on his shoulder where he stands just out of sight of the other kids, hoping no one will see him and decide to get nosy.

“Okay, chickens. I’m going to run across the hall very quickly, keep doing what you’re doing. Ashante, honey, you’re in charge,” you say with a little grin, it becomes a full smile when the girl salutes you.

Once you’re in the hall, Karam grabs your hand tightly with big tears ready to fall, and stays close as you cross diagonally to some of your students' previous second grade classroom. You lean into the doorway, still keeping Karam out of sight of others, and knock to gain a certain redhead’s attention. She’s quick to get to you, seeing a sort of urgency on your face.

“What’s up?”

“Can you watch my class, please? I’ve got a situation here,” you tip your head to the side to gesture to Karam, still gripping your hand and sniffling. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow, lunch, lunch duty, recess duty, whatever. Just, please?”

Melissa takes one look at you pleading eyes and knows she can’t say no to you, especially not with a sad little friend by your side. “You owe me nothing. I’ll bring the kids to my room and you can come get ‘em after,” she says with a tone she hopes shows she’s being genuine.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you rush out, immediately your attention falling back to the tears rolling down Karam’s cheeks. Melissa scoots over to your room, corralling the kids across the hall with an excited tone to keep their eyes on her and not you and their classmate.

With the extra bodies in the room, Melissa finds that the doorway was a good place to observe all the kids in her room. Though she tries to keep her eagle eyes on the students, they slowly slide to your form in the hall, crouched down below the boy’s eye level with his hand in yours. Her ears feel like a radio, tuning into the hushed volume you keep.

“It’s okay to be sad, buddy. Everything and everyone is so new, you’re allowed to be scared,” you say as you wipe his cheeks with a tissue, “and you and I both know that baba and daddy would never bring you somewhere that wasn’t safe. And Pickle, he’s here for you, and so am I.”

The boy leans into you for a hug, and your arms wrap tightly around him. Melissa tries not to stare, but she’s unable to take her eyes off the interaction. The way you rock him gently side to side, it was clear you weren’t letting go until he did. She vaguely remembers you mentioning that being a rule of yours when you first started at Abbott, when you took over her third grade class and her entire field of vision.

Melissa averts her eyes back to the kids as the hug ends, but she still listens discreetly. You wipe Karam’s face as you speak, “let’s go get you some water, okay? And maybe, if you use those puppy eyes, nurse Makiah will let you pick out a lollipop. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Do we have to come back to recess?” The shyness in his voice makes you pout.

“Yes, because Miss Schemmenti was super nice to watch all our friends for me while we’re talking, and I’m sure she’d like her room back,” you peek up to Melissa quickly, “and when we get back, we’re gonna say a big ‘thank you,’ alright?”

“Yeah,” Karam answers quietly, but his next words are so quiet you barely hear them, “thank you.”

“Of course, chicken. Let’s go.” Melissa pretends she’s not watching you walk down the hall with a hand still in Karam’s, her eyes switch back to her class when you disappear around the corner.

When you return to get the kids from Melissa, she instead insists that you just sit out the rest of recess in her room since the students were already playing together. That’s the only reason, nothing else. You keep a cautious eye on Karam as he sits down to draw with one of Melissa’s students, and once you see him start to arrange his colors, you drift your attention to the woman next to you.

“Thank you, seriously. And I will be paying you back for this,” you say, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“I said you ain’t gotta do anyth-”

You cut her off, “I said. I’m. Paying. You. Back. Just accept it, I’m not budging.”

All she gives as an answer is a huff through her nose, but the smile that stretches her lips makes you feel fluttery. Her smile is not a rare sight, but it’s rare that you get to see it this close. When she faces away for only a couple seconds, you take the time to just take her in. Beautiful.

In the hall, a conversation between Barbara and Ava about clearing an extra bulletin board for the kindergarteners art projects was halted when they caught Melissa watching you with Karam. Both women looked at her, unseen even by Melissa’s typically sensitive attention, and all they saw was a soft putty of a woman. When you returned to the classroom, they slowly got closer to see what was going on, curiosity drawing them in.

All they could see were gentle, shy smiles and hidden glances of adoration for each other. It clicked in their minds at the same moment. Their best friends had it bad for each other.

Their plan was formed in a single glance.

—☽—

“So… What are you gonna do about Red?” Ava asks as she reaches the midpoint of her braid.

You’re sitting behind her on a cushion, parting a section in the back of her head to start on a braid yourself. Your focus makes your response time slower and quieter than usual, “what d’ya mean?”

Ava’s chuckles, “how you’ve got the hots for Schemmenti.”

Her obvious tone makes you stall, too long, but you try to deflect anyway, “I’ve got no clue what you mean.”

She laughs. Ava laughs and it would be in your face if she weren’t so busy with her hair. She doesn’t need to turn to know you’ve got that shocked expression on your face, the one where your eyes are wide and blank, face otherwise neutral, but she knows the expression well. The first time she’d seen it was the day she met you in seventh grade, and she proclaimed you her best friend to everyone in the cafeteria, just a mere three hours after meeting each other.

“Don’t lie to me, Gremlin,” she jokes, using her nickname for you she adopted from your favorite movie as a kid, “I know when you like someone, and you want that Italian sub to Italian dom you.”

“I hate you,” you groan, “if you mention even a single thing to her Ava, I will buy out all the caramel hair from the beauty supply and you’ll never see it again.” She gasps, as if it were a real threat you could carry out on your budget, but she knows how serious you are. With a roll of her eyes, Ava decides to hold off until you’re not braiding her hair to annoy you more.

Much later into the night and all there is really left to do is trim, seal, and add products to her roots, Ava knows she can’t let the topic of the previous conversation go. She decides to speak up while she trims the last few front pieces and you pick up the hair packaging and combs from around the room.

“Just saying though, if you stopped making ‘I wanna have your babies’ eyes, you could ask her out,” Ava tries to explain. She almost adds a what’s the worst that could happen? but she knows exactly where your mind will go.

“I don’t wanna ‘have her babies,’ you freak,” you sigh as you get some hot water, “I just… I dunno. I don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with her when she inevitably rejects me.”

She’s obsessed with you, she won’t reject you, Ava wants to say. Even if others, and even herself, would label her selfish, the one thing she doesn’t ever let slide is you letting your insecurity get the best of you. She likes her extra job as your personal hype-woman when you get in your head. Ava weighs her option, “well… you could put out some feelers. Invite her somewhere or, I don’t know, look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

“You’re right,” you say with a gruffness that she knows is defeat. If she can just get you and Melissa talking, interacting more, then maybe she and Barb can figure out a way to worm you two together.

“You do like her, don’t you?” She knows the answer, she wants you to say it though.

There’s a deep inhale before you answer, “of course I do. She- she’s so- I do like her, so much. Like, I want to bite a chunk out of the table when she looks at me.”

“Yeah, don’t do that, we don’t know where they’ve been,” Ava says with a touch of disgust, “and she’ll think you’re more of a freak than you already are.” She rightfully earns a smack on the shoulder at that one.

Dipping the ends of her hair into the hot water, you think silently. Ava has a point, if you spent even a tenth of the time you spend thinking about Melissa, when she was right in front of you, talking to her instead, you’d probably not be so nervous at the thought of making eye contact with her. Sometimes it was nice though, just getting to look at her, seeing her easy smile when she speaks to Barbara and the playful glint in her eye when she lovingly picks on Jacob. Whenever her attention falls on you, you shy away. Maybe Ava has a point.

At Barbara and Melissa’s weekly brunch that same Saturday morning, their conversation falls down a similar path.

Ever the professional deterrer, Melissa manages to push the conversation away from the topic of you, trying to keep Barb on Gerald or bible club. Usually her friend catches the hint to stay away from the topic, but there’s no way she was getting out of this one.

“So… are we gonna keep beating around the bush or are we going to talk about it?”

Melissa just sips her mimosa, suddenly interested in the painting across the room.

“Melissa.”

What… interesting brush strokes.

“Melissa Ann, so help me.”

She turns back, “yes, Barb?”

“Don’t ‘yes, Barb’ me. Spill,” there is no room for argument.

“There’s nothing to spill, Barb,” Melissa says, and she means it. It’s clear Barbara had picked up on her feelings for you, but nothing had been done to go past acknowledging she cared for you.

Barb tilts her head to the side, “oh, really? So, we’re just going to pretend that you’re not utterly infatuated with everyone’s new favorite third grade teacher?” Melissa stares at Barbara with wide eyes, thrown off by the blunt nature of her inquiry. Her friend only shakes her head, “for the good Lord’s sake, Melissa. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got feelings for them, and I know you know that too.”

Green eyes shift away from brown, and they instead stare at the drink in front of her, nervous hands coming up to play with the umbrella to keep them busy instead of shaking in her lap. What Barb said wasn’t untrue, she knows it. Barbara Howard is always right in the end. But that isn’t where the apprehension in her gut stems from.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Melissa mumbles, insecurity from her mind reaching her throat.

Barbara can sense it and tries a softer approach, “I think I can say on good authority that the feelings are probably mutual. You could give it a shot, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“And what’s that good authority?”

“My eyes,” Barbara deadpans, her face reading are you serious?

The conversation stops there, more of a self preservation move for the kindergarten teacher. Underneath the silence from Melissa, it’s obvious her mind is going in circles trying to weigh her options. Did she have feelings for you? Yes. But would she do anything if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d return her feelings? No. She was almost certain you didn’t, you rarely ever looked her in the eye and you got all quiet and mumbly when she spoke.

Conclusion: Barb’s nuts.

—☽—

When Monday comes back around, you feel like the air in the lounge, or at least around your table, is different. Barbara’s eyes keep shifting between you and Melissa in what she thinks are subtle glances, but the constant eyes on you start making you nervous. Shifting uncomfortably for a moment, you rise from your chair to go to the coffee pot to get away from the prying. While your back is to them, a different form of attention falls on you. Olive eyes scan over you with a soft glint, taking the opportunity to admire you when you’re not looking. Her attention feels different from Barb’s, you can feel it without seeing it. It’s warm, all consuming.

When you turn back around, you can see a section of Melissa’s hair swinging slightly from motion. She was looking at you, and she was hiding it horribly. Instead of mentioning it, you just sit and check your school email. In the weekly scheduling, you see that the recess duty that you typically had with Mrs. Benning from sixth grade, was now with Melissa for the entire week.

Your eyebrows jump slightly at the find, before you have to fight an eye roll at Ava’s obvious meddling. Seeing this, Melissa speaks up, “something interesting?”

“No, no,” you barely get out at a normal cadence, “just switches in the schedule, wasn’t expecting it.”

She nods slowly, “are you… not okay with that?” You try not to pout at the insecurity that bleeds just the smallest amount in her question.

“Of course I’m okay with it, no reason not to be,” you hope your genuineness was showing, “just different is all.” A muted smirk crosses her lips before she takes a sip of her coffee to cover her face, you pretend not to notice the move, as well as the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You turn your attention to your phone in your lap.

To AVA ♔ : you’re not slick

From AVA ♔ : good thing i wasn’t trying to be

From AVA ♔ : get up in that cannoli

To AVA ♔ : speaking privileges revoked until further notice

You try to not think about the prospect of an extra half hour with Melissa today, and for the rest of the week, but the thought of her crosses your mind and brings a smile to your face. When you are walking your kids back from music, you selfishly take the extra second you’re in the hall to glance towards Melissa’s classroom. Cursive letters on the board in her loopy handwriting being narrated by her expressive face and fast-moving hands. Another grin crosses your lips before you spin on your heel back to your room.

As lunch rolls around, there’s a giddy feeling in your chest that grows with every passing second. Was she even going to talk to you? Maybe not, but time with Melissa is time with Melissa. Just when you’re sliding your gloves on, there’s a tap at your door. Red hair tucked under an Eagles hat and thick black jacket, she’s never been more beautiful.

Winter at Abbott meant beautifully crafted snowmen that had just a touch of dirt on it, but the kids just decided it was freckles. Most of them were working together on their snowmen, while others were trying to see how long they could hang upside down on the monkey bars in their snow clothes. Melissa, after five minutes of churning the idea over in her mind, moves closer to you, the nylon of your jackets making a fssh sound as they brush together gently. The red on her cheeks was likely from the cold, but the darker shade that blossoms at you smiling and turning to her, that’s all you.

The silence between you is easy, for once it doesn’t make Melissa skeptical. It’s comforting, no nervous rambling or awkward attempts to fill the silence, just peaceful silence as your shoulder moves closer to hers.

Tuesday is just the same, with Melissa coming to your classroom to pick you up for recess duty. Wednesday you meet her in your doorway. The peaceful silence is broken when you check your phone to see copious texts in the teacher group chat, most of which are Janine and Jacob and only two are Gregory. All you let out is a little hum.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asks from beside you, her eyes staying on Marcus attempting to climb on top of the monkey bars.

“Groupchat’s going crazy. Janine and Jacob want a ‘teacher’s night out plus Ava,’ and they’re asking if everyone’s good to go next Friday at seven,” your tone suggests a bit of disinterest, but if Melissa goes, you could be easily persuaded.

Her brows scrunch for only a half second before asking, “what bar?”

“The Penman’s Alcove? Guess Jacob suggested it,” you say after scrolling through the nearly forty messages.

“Sounds like Jacob suggested it,” she says with a sputtered laugh. To her delight, you chuckle from beside her, and she brings her full attention to you, “you going?”

You bite your inner lip and flick your eyes to the side, “maybe. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

—☽—

Ava, who always demands you pick her up when you go out, insists on driving to the bar. When she gets to your apartment and does a once over of your jeans and loose-fitting sweater, she gives you a face of disapproval.

“That is not club attire. What ladies are you going to pick up if you’re dressed like a grandma?”

You roll your eyes as you move to let her in, “it’s not a club, it’s a bar. That Jacob picked out. And I’m not trying to ‘pick up’ ladies?”

“Aw, you’re already committed to Schemmenti. Cute,” her laugh at her own comment is cut off by the pillow you whip at her head, another ready if she pipes up again, “no need to get violent, I’ll stop.”

Her only reply is a huff as you grab your boots and shove in your fluffy-socked feet. Ava rises off the couch, leaving the pillow-turned-missile behind. When she’d asked you earlier in the day if ‘your woman’ was coming to the bar, you’d only shrugged, but with a quick text to Barbara, Ava knew the redhead would be there.

Barbara and Ava had made a pact, that despite their differing reasons for not wanting to go, would only attend the outing to insure that you and Melissa would both go as well. It had taken some convincing on Melissa’s end, but the moment her best friend said your name, her tune changed. She agreed to go as long as she drove herself there, so that when she wanted to inevitably leave early, she could.

As Ava pulls into the parking lot of the bar, neither of you hold back the rolling of your eyes. It was very Jacob. You share a look with your best friend, silently asking what did we agree to?

The Penman’s Alcove is tiny, shoved into one of the smallest brick buildings either of you had ever seen. One window was completely blocked off by a decorative book display, the other gave view to the wooden bar top and wooden support beam that was turned into a cylindrical bookcase with lights weaving around it. What is lacking in space, it clearly made up for in atmosphere.

“You both came!” Jacob’s voice echoes from the door to where you and Ava stand as you evaluate the building. You immediately elbow Ava to stop the joke that you could feel on the tip of her tongue.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” you asked as you got closer, appreciating how Jacob switched his arms from the instinctive hug he wanted to give to giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Well, Janine, Gregory, me, duh, Barbara, and Melissa just got here, so,” his voice becomes a little sheepish, “you’re the last ones here.”

“Fashionably late,” you and Ava say at the same time, though your tone is more flat since you only said it because you knew she would.

Walking into the bar, the small space didn’t feel bigger, just smaller as you realized just how many shelves of countless books there were. The twenty person capacity limit was starting to make sense as you quickly side stepped around other people to keep up with Jacob. Everyone comes into view, but as green eyes meet yours, cameo light surrounds her and she’s all you can see. The stutter in your step is noticed by no one but Ava, who subtly grabs your arm to pull you closer to everyone, closer to Melissa.

Greetings and small talk fill the space, but all of it is background noise. When Janine finally releases you from her energetic retelling of the four hours it’s been since she last saw you, your attention is finally able to rest on the woman who it had been dying to be on. Melissa sees your eyes flick around until they find her, and she curses how her heart flutters at the way you move towards her in an instant.

Leaning your arms on the bartop, you lean over slightly to order a rum and coke before turning entirely towards the redhead. Even though it had been barely four hours since you’d seen her, you felt yourself missing her. Her eyes, her hair, her laugh, especially the one she barks out when she can’t control herself and laughs suddenly. Something in the navy shirt she wore instead of her bright greens and pinks told you she wanted to fit into the environment, like she didn’t want anyone to see her in such a… Jacob place. Her attempt to keep attention away, yet for you it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Just like every other time you saw her, your eyes quickly dipped to her neck, a tiny smile passing your lips at her Saint Dominic pendant she had received from her Nana before she’d passed. When you met her eyes, the small smile on your lips grew, and hers did to match.

“Thought you’d never show up,” Melissa says playfully, but with a quiet tone, her words only for you.

“Surprised you even showed,” you mimicked her tone.

Melissa weighs her options before replying, “Barbara told me I should, told me I can count it as my good act of the year.” She relishes in your silent laugh, little puffed breaths leaving you as you turn your face away from her just for a moment to hide. Melissa had realized three days into knowing you that this was her favorite thing, this quiet laugh of yours, she knew that when you turned away, it meant it was genuine.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” you say with earnest, “if that's any consolation.”

A smile plays on glossy, pink lips, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Two drinks later, and you found yourself meandering through the shelves of books, naturally being drawn to the fantasy section that was oddly close to the classics you also enjoyed. The small bar had reached capacity only a half hour after you’d arrived, and the bustling conversation was starting to pierce your eardrums. The cushions on the floor had become your new seat, in this almost-quiet corner.

The light vibrations of footsteps approaching brings your mind out of the dragon story you were falling into. Your eyes look up to see red hair contrasting against the shadows from the shelves. Melissa lowers herself carefully onto the cushion beside you, taking utmost care in not getting too far into your space. Her finger pokes the book in your hands, pushing it closer to you to read the cover, only a low hum leaving her throat.

She bumps her knee with yours, a silent you alright? She’s seen you get overwhelmed at assemblies and work parties before, often keeping an eye on you as you stuck to a corner, too polite to leave the room. You bump her knee back, a little smile on your lips, a quiet I’m okay. Melissa plays with the creases in her jeans as she tries to think of what to say, but you beat her to it.

“You know what’s fucked? You can’t even check out the books here,” you state with exasperation. “What’s the point of having all these books if you can only read them if you come here?”

Melissa warms with affection at your word, “No one would bring them back, hon.”

“I would,” you mumble with an incredulous tone in your voice, “but no, not even a checkout fee or, I don’t know, collateral.”

“Collateral!” Melissa laughs out. “Gonna hand over your watch to hold onto until you bring the book back?”

“I’d give them my car for those early editions of Mary Shelley’s work,” you half-joke as you nod towards the faded green and blue books. You look at Melissa for a moment, reading her face quickly before leaning into her space, “don’t even suggest stealing them.”

“Would they even notice?”

“These IPA-enjoyers? Definitely, unfortunately.”

Melissa never cared much for the classics, especially not the ones assigned to her in school. She preferred the historical fiction and true crime novels her grandfather introduced her to, but there was something intriguing about the ones you were showing her. There is peace in the way your fingers trace over the pages, a sort of reverence in how you hold each book. Sylvia Plath and Emily Brontë, Greek tragedies and comedies, they never sounded this interesting as they did when they came from your lips.

The world outside of this hidden corner continues to disappear around the two of you, the prying eyes peeking around the corner are completely lost on the two of you. Your eyes on the books, Melissa’s eyes on you. Ava and Barbara’s eyes, on the other hand, were flicking between the two of you before finding each other's eyes. A shared nod began the next step in their plan.

Ava, in a highly out of character fashion, quietly left the bar without saying anything to anyone, and drove off towards Iggy’s apartment. Barbara, pretending not to notice, went back to her conversation with Gregory regarding what he plans on growing in the garden for springtime. It’s Janine who notices Ava’s lacking presence, she peeks out into the parking lot, and sure enough, the silver car you’d arrived in was gone.

In a child-like fashion, Janine tugs on Barbara’s sleeve to gain her attention, “Ava’s gone.”

“What?” Barbara responds with faux surprise.

“Ava, she left. Like, gone. Not here,” without having to ask Barbara to be the one to tell you, Janine was definitely hinting at not being the one to say your best friend ditched you here.

The kindergarten teacher follows the maze of shelves, steps quickening as she gets closer to hushed voices in the furthest corner. In your own little, say you and Melissa, her legs stretched out as she leaned back against her hands while you sat close to her in criss-cross. There are two piles of older books in front of you, ones you had already shown her and the ones you were going to, and Melissa seemed completely unbothered by the infodumping you laid upon her.

Barbara politely clears her throat to make you aware of her presence, watching you nearly jumping away from Melissa as you realize the closeness between you. Pretending not to notice she speaks carefully, “dear, I just wanted to tell you that Ava left a couple of minutes ago.”

The nerves you felt dissipate, annoyance and a small anger taking its place, “what do you mean? She fully just left? Did she even say anything?”

“No, she must’ve snuck out. Janine noticed before the rest of us that she’d taken off,” Barbara is impressed by her own ability to fib so easily.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, keeping yourself from exploding. You rise from your spot next to the redhead, who is quick to follow in your stride, and grab your phone to call you friend. Speedily stepping through the shelves, you step outside as you press Ava’s contact.

She picks up on the second ring, which only pisses you off further, “what’s up, boo?”

“Where the fuck are you? You did not just seriously ditch me,” you waste no time.

“That little library was not the vibe. Plus, you were too busy nerding it up with Red,” she jokes, almost mockingly.

“You were my ride, Ava,” you sigh, “this isn’t cool, especially when I’m going to have to ask Janine to drive me home since she carpooled with Jacob and Gregory.”

“I know who you can ask for a ride,” the laugh she speaks through only hammers home your aggravation, “maybe she’ll give you more than one.”

A hard groan escapes your throat, “you owe me big time, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me later,” she hangs up on you before you can respond, the beeping tone of the disconnection feels more mocking than your friend straight up laughing in your ear.

When you step back inside, your brows are furrowed, deep creases on your forehead as you practically steam with anger. Never before would Janine, Gregory, or Jacob say they were intimidated by you, but right now, they can’t deny that you are almost as frightening as Melissa’s angry walk. Barbara looks at Melissa pointedly, motioning with her head towards you to tell her to talk to you.

The redhead is already in motion, immediately in front of you, “what did she say?”

Sarcasm and irritation drop from your voice, “the ‘library’ wasn’t ‘her vibe,’ so she’s apparently ditching me to ride home with Gregory and the Chipmunks.”

She doesn’t want to laugh at your predicament, but she can’t help it. Her hand rises to rub your arm reassuringly, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t ha-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Let me get you home,” the gentleness in her voice makes the icy anger in you melt into a puddle, the hand on your arm was grounding.

“Okay,” your voice just above a whisper in the space between you.

“Okay,” her tone matching yours as she smiles.

Melissa’s car is warm, her presence beside you warmer. With only a couple blocks left before you reach your apartment, you find yourself wishing you knew how to slow, or even stop, time. Would inviting her upstairs seem forward? Is asking her if she wants coffee better? No, stupid, who wants coffee at ten at night? All you need is to be around her.

When her car parks in the lot of your building, neither of you move, not you to get out or her to tell you to. You turn your face towards her, resting your chin on your shoulder, peering through your lashes at her. She matches your position, looking back at you with a little grin.

“Thank you for listening to me,” your voice is quiet and insecure.

Melissa leans a little closer, “thank you for letting me.”

“I’ll see you Monday?” You don’t want to leave, but despite it being Friday, it has also been a school day. You’re tired, and you can see in her slightly droopy eyes that she is too.

“Bright and early,” she answers, eyes flicking to your lips shortly in a way you wish you hadn’t seen. She makes it impossible to want to leave.

Melissa stays in her parking spot until you disappear into the building, not before you glance once more at her and wave shyly. Her head rests against the steering wheel as she struggles to compose herself, before pulling out on the street.

You both fall asleep that night to dreams about the secret corner you’d found yourselves in, books stacked around while your eyes stayed on each other.

—☽—

There’s a certain pep in your step come Monday morning, but a small amount of dread knowing you’ll have to face Ava later. She knew better to keep her distance over the weekend, but though your annoyance with her was fading, it was definitely there. You push into the lounge, immediately gravitating towards the coffeemaker.

You enjoy the hum of the TV, Jim Gardener’s voice coming from the speakers as you focus on Melissa in your periphery. Clicking steps in the hallway stiffen your back, all eyes in the room shifting to you as your best friend, boss, and ditcher enters. The cocky smile on her face falls when you stand and leave the room without a word.

“Seriously? Still mad?” Ava asks with such a genuine tone that Gregory’s head drops into his hands.

Melissa speaks before Ava can even blink, feeling like she had to defend you after seeing how upset you’d been, “so selfish you couldn’t even give a heads up? Some best friend you are, ditching them.” Ava only responds by raising her hands in defeat, giving up on an argument with Melissa before it starts.

“You checking on that one or should I?” Mr. Johnson asks from the doorway where he’s collecting the trash, his eyes set on Melissa. His answer is just the second grade teacher pointing at herself in question, surprised that he would’ve thought of her to check on you. His face screws up, “duh? Who else?”

She listens. When Melissa reaches your classroom, quickly carried by fast and angry steps, she sees you at your whiteboard, writing the agenda and date on it. The unusually harsh strokes of your writing show her exactly what mood she’s walking into. She almost jumps when she knocks on the door and your head whips her way, hard face softening.

“Hey,” you breathe out, going back to writing the afternoon’s schedule.

“Hey. I just wanted to check on you,” she she says as she slides the orange marker down towards you.

“I’m fine, really. I’m mostly just pissed Ava left me like that and thinks it’s hilarious. You’d think I would be used to it by now, but apparently not,” you huff, “just like her mom always says, Ava’s gonna Ava.”

“How long you giving her the silent treatment?”

“Till she actually apologizes and doesn’t just assume it’s all good, it’s the only way. I’m not even that mad about it, if she wanted to leave she could’ve just said,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “it’s the principle of it.”

Melissa glances over your face, grateful you don’t seem to notice, and she realizes it's less anger, more disappointment. It’s so starkly different from the smile that played on your lips and the gleam in your eyes just the other night. She so badly wants that back, she craves your smile.

It took three days for Ava to finally apologize, and she only does when she comes over to your apartment, no interest in letting the other hear her grovel. She hadn’t meant to make you upset, she was just trying to get you and Melissa alone, and so far, her efforts seemed to be working. She was diligent to not let out that it was a joint plan between her and Barbara, and that Melissa was getting played just as much as you.

—☽—

A snow storm Thursday night almost takes out your power, and the chill seeps through the brick walls, forcing you to bed early in a bundle of blankets. You wake up to your phone ringing at five in the morning, only a half hour before your alarm was to go off. Seeing Ava’s contact worried you immediately.

“What?” you say through a yawn, “are you okay?”

“Aw, you love me,” she jokes through her own large yawn.

“I do. Now, what do you want?”

“It’s a snow day, bitch. The roads aren’t too bad, but apparently the buses are fucked.”

You sigh with contentment, “snow day means I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay, lazy. I’ll see you tomorrow for wine night?”

You can barely answer through another yawn, “yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

It’s not until ten that you wake up again, sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow and making your room too bright to stay asleep any longer. The air in the room is too cold for your taste, leaving you to wrap your throw blanket around yourself as you trudge out to your kitchen for the promise of warm coffee. As coffee drips into the pot, the star-printed throw is replaced by your favorite grey sweatshirt, the faded university logo still maintaining a touch of the maroon and silver it once was.

The second cup of coffee tastes of cinnamon and cream, the warmth keeping your hands from stiffening under the cold of your building. No matter how much you turned up the heat, the draft made it obsolete. As you pour a third cup, clinging to the warmth it gave, you feel your phone buzz in your Abbott sweatpants.

From Melissa: How busy are you today?

To Melissa: on a snow day? not at all. why?

From Melissa: I’ve got a surprise for you.

To Melissa: should i be worried?

From Melissa: Do you trust me?

To Melissa: you know i do

When she doesn’t answer, anticipation starts to take hold. It hits you as you nervously sip your coffee, you’re still in your pajamas and Melissa is coming. You tumble down to your room, switching the sweatpants for an old pair of jeans, the faded sweatshirt for a thick black sweater, fluffy socks into slippers. Part of you grapples if you should make coffee for the both of you, the other part tells you a fourth cup may give you a heart attack upon seeing Melissa, your heart would never be able to take it.

A quiet ping from your phone alerts you that Melissa is down in the lot as she waits for you. You don’t even take a moment to answer, just quickly throwing on your denim jacket before hurrying down the steps to the bottom floor. Peeking your head out, you see the only car with lights on, the familiar black car making you smile. The snow had slowed overnight, wisps still quickly sticking to your hair and clothes.

Melissa doesn’t notice your approach, not until you tap on her frosted window with your knuckles, making her jump. She was lost in her mind, thinking about how bad of an idea it was, startling quickly at your tap, but quickly soothed by your smile and little wave. Melissa steps out of the car, leaning against it to keep you from peeking in her window and seeing the passenger seat.

“You really shouldn’t’ve driven, what if the roads were nasty?” you say with concern, despite the fact that you couldn’t be happier with her presence.

“They weren’t, I got here just fine,” she says, placating the worry.

You can’t even hide the smile that shows itself, “what sort of surprise was worth the black ice?”

“There was no black ice,” she laughs, shifting under your gaze, “but I hope it’s a surprise you’ll like.” There’s an unusual nervousness in her, one that you can’t help but feel and want to soothe.

“If it’s from you, I definitely will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Try me,” you cock your head to the side, a sly smirk on your face. Melissa ducks her face, concealing her blush. She opens the door, leaning in to grab the bag from the seat. A deep breath leaves her lungs as she composes herself before facing you. The paper bag is stretched out towards you, green eyes begging you to relieve her of this weight.

You try to be careful, not wanting the gentle snow to touch the contents. Peering up at Melissa, she urges you to open it. You reach in and feel something, a cloth covered board you think, until you feel what you think are pages. A book? No, three.

You pull back your hand, the books coming with it. A faded green cover with black serif text reads Frankenstein, the blue reads The Short-Stories of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley: A Complete Collection, and the final red one, Mathilda. The books you had fawned over a week ago were now in your hands, the very same you said you’d give your car for. No words form, only thick tears in your eyes that you pray don’t fall. They were the exact same books, the copies from the bar, and now they’re in your hands.

You can only look at the redhead, absolutely bewildered. She gives you a weak smile, having a hard time gauging your reaction and you slide the books back into the bag to protect them. There’s no warning, not verbal or even a glint in your eye, before you fling yourself onto her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Thank you, oh my fucking God, thank you, thank you, what the fuck?” your words fall out of your mouth, barely able to contain the delight running through your veins.

Melissa doesn’t answer right away, only wrapping her arms around you and basking in the feeling of you there. You smell like coffee and cinnamon, she wishes she could find out if your lips taste the same. Neither of you move, not wanting to be the one who breaks away first.

After a minute, your face lifts from her neck, but you don’t remove yourself from her arms. She meets your gaze, watching you watch her. Melissa is the most beautiful person you’ll ever meet, you’re sure of it. But right here, right now? She’d never been more so, nothing else compared to the snow stuck to her lashes, the pink of her cheeks from the chilled air, the lack of makeup across her skin allowing you to see all her freckles and the lines around her eyes.

“You got me the books,” it's a simple sentence, but there’s a weight to it that Melissa almost can’t handle.

She smiles so softly it makes you want to cry, “you love them, you wanted them.” The look in your eyes changes, and Melissa seems to notice. She finally speaks up, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is, at least I hope not,” you answer truthfully.

“Why that look on your face then?” Her lips look so soft, you have to tell her.

You swallow your pride, pursing your lips before telling her the thought that had been on your mind since you met her, “I really want to kiss you.”

It appears she feels the same, Melissa immediately leans into you, lips pressing to yours. You knew they’d be soft, and God were they. Her hands plant themselves on your hips while yours cup her neck, pulling her as close as you possibly can. Spinning suddenly, you find yourself pressed against her car, cold metal freezing you through your layers, but warm lips make the cold feel little. For someone so abrasive, Melissa was so soft, holding you like you were the most precious thing to her. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip, asking for entry. And who are you to deny her?

Her tongue traces yours, a groan comes from deep in your chest that only spurs her on further. She presses impossibly closer to you, hands sliding up to hold you at your ribs, pressing into your jacket in an attempt to get closer. Your blunt nails dig into her neck, not enough to hurt, just to feel more of her. All you’ve wanted since you met her was to be this close, and it felt like an unreachable dream until now.

Her lips pull away, only to be chased by yours. You press gentle, chaste kisses to her lips, and it only becomes more difficult as matching dopey grins grow on your faces. Her hand rises to your cheek, caressing the chilled skin that warms under her touch.

She barely hears your words over her rapidly beating heart, “you’re so pretty.”

“Haven’t seen yourself then, huh?” she jokes, pretending your statement didn’t make her feel like a giggly teenager.

“Funny, but I mean it. You’re so pretty,” your hand shifts around her cup her jaw, “I can’t believe you got those books for me. How?”

She smirks to herself, “I just asked nicely.”

“Nicely? Did you bat your lashes and give them that award-winning smile?” The sarcasm that should have been there sounds more like adoration, the lazy smile on your lips making them look even more kissable than they’d been before.

“Exactly, they just handed them right over,” she feels like a pile of mush with you looking at her like this.

The hand on her jaw pulls her in closer, “they’d be stupid not to.” There’s no chance to reply, just your lips pressing to hers again. It feels as easy as breathing with you, like she was supposed to be doing this the whole time. When you pull away, it’s just barely, a silent request in the way you stroke her cheek.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from you to take her keys out of the ignition and grabs her purse from the floor of the car. An arm wraps around hers as you lead her towards the door to your building, the other tightly holds the books against your chest. It was too soon to say it, but you knew that right here, right now, you were utterly in love with Melissa Schemmenti. The woman who probably threatened the employees at the Penman’s Alcove for the books when they said she couldn’t buy them, the one who listened for two hours as you spoke about authors and books she’d never cared about before.

She cared now. She cared because you did.

Melissa knew the moment you saw the books, that she would do whatever it takes to see that wonder on your face again. She thinks to herself that endeavor would be a good way to spend the rest of her life.

title is from a quote from mary shelley’s frankenstein: “you are still, as you ever were, beyond beautiful expression.”

i chose the st. dominic for mel’s pendant bc hes typically worn by educators

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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buckyandgeraltsupremacy · 4 months

Text

remus x shy!reader (part 4)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; angst for remus lol; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

done with finals!! now battling the want to only read fics and not write, let me know if you want a confession from rem!!

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 5

---

it was the day of the date and remus had been up since 4 am. he couldn't stop thinking about your date. however bad he hoped it would go, he didn't want your first date experience to be horrible. he wanted you to be treated how you deserve and to have a lovely time while also never ever wanting to see the fool again. and that is why he had woken up at 4 in the morning and couldn't stop the fight in his mind.

it was 11:30am and he was laying on the couch in the common room, one foot on the ground tapping constantly. the boys had decided to stay in this morning because james was worried they'd run into you and that sirius would end up embarrassing you and ruin your date.

"moony, if you don't stop tapping your foot, i'm going to lose my mind." sirius grunted, head in his hands covering his ears from the tapping noise.

"she should be done with her date now, right? its been 2 hours. why isn't she back yet?" remus asked.

"relax you love sick dog. your precious wife will be returned soon." sirius replied dramatically, rolling his eyes at how abserd this whole situation was. "if you had only confessed your love for her when you had the chance, she wouldn't be snogging another fella while you fumed the whole time." he added. remus shot upright on the couch with a wide eyed expression and a look of dread covering his features.

"here she comes!" peter shouted, holding the marauder's map in his hands, walking into the common room where the other boys were. all of their heads turned towards the portrait hole where it swung open and you stepped through.

you were excited to tell the boys all about it, but you weren't quite expecting them to all be staring at you when you got back.

"well, hi." you said, cheeks flushing more than they already were, glancing towards the floor to not meet their eyes. you sat down on the couch next to remus like normal, not sensing the tension in his body, only feeling their eyes on you.

"WELL??? i need all the details. spill your guts flea!" sirius cried across from you.

"it was okay! it wasn't bad! but it also wasn't great. like it was pleasant but it wasn't anything to write home about. is that good? like are you supposed to know if you want to marry him already?" you rambled, entire face flushing and not meeting their eyes.

"aw, hoppers. i'm sorry it didn't go well." james consoled you.

"what do you mean?" you asked, confused why he sounded sad for you.

"well, it didn't sound like there was any chemistry, that's important if you're gonna date someone." james explained.

"flea, i know it's your first date ever, but even i thought you'd know that." sirius shrugged. at the mention of it being your first date, you tensed and shot a look a remus, hurt that he spilled a secret to the boys. remus met your gaze with a look of panic.

"that wasn't me! i swear it! i didn't tell them!" he yelled.

"oh he didn't tell us, but the way you were acting before was kind of obvious and the fact that remus would've known that you were dating someone before you were part of our group and you certainly haven't since we've been friends because of remus' behavior." sirius explained, you relaxed and reached to touch remus' leg.

"sorry for thinking that you told them when you didn't ." you apologized and remus nodded back.

"its fine bun, i'm not hurt." he said, covering your hand with his.

"so hoppers, did you snog him?" sirius asked crudely. your cheeks flushed bright red.

"that is none of your business sirius! and a lady never kisses and tells!" you exclaim, avoiding all their eyes. "i told him that it would be best if we were friends, and he agreed. i don't think dating is for me, i just got so anxious before! and the thought of having to go on another date, just makes me nauseous." you say, leaning onto remus' shoulder and resting your head.

"thats okay, bun. you don't have to date if you don't want to." remus patted your thigh, his heart soaring that he won't have to go through this again. he knew he'd have to tell you that he liked you soon, the thought of you with someone else almost killed him.

"thanks rem." you mumbled back, sinking deeper into his side.

sirius observes this going on, looking to james and mouthing, 'are they fucking idiots??'

james simply rolled his eyes in response.

#remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader fluff #marauders x reader #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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attic-club-sandwich · 1 year

Text

How they are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 2

Side Characters edition!

Okay you guys wanted more angst, so here you go! lol A part 2 with the side characters was requested, so I wrote for Diavolo, Simeon, Luke (purely platonic), and Solomon. I left Barb out because i'm very unsure of his role as of right now in Nightbringer. I hope you guys enjoy, please let me know what you think! You'll probably need some tissues again so prepare yourself! lol

Read Part 1: Brothers

Part 3: MC Returns

Genre: Angst, Hurt.

Taglist: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @sassykattery @amberrskiies @a-hidden-gem @obey-me-posts @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @flemmingbamse i'm also going to tag @yourboyhack @ihatecorns @cherrybakewelltea and @exrellian too since you liked the first part! MC's return will be next! :3

But if you want to be tagged in my future work please fill out this form!

rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

The brothers were the first to be aware of your disappearance, but the news traveled fast between all of the people who were closest and dearest to you. No one knew where you went, but they knew one thing for sure: they were doing anything possible to bring you back home. After weeks of searching every inch of the Devildom, it was becoming apparent that you were no longer in the same realm. This of course sent a new wave of panic through everyone. Where did you go, MC? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were leaving?

❤️Diavolo❤️

If anyone should feel responsible for your disappearance, it’s The Demon Prince.

He is incredibly perplexed and disturbed by the fact that his human exchange student disappeared right out from under his watchful eye.

Diavolo usually has a very outgoing and joyous attitude, but it’s not the same since you left.

Instead, he becomes numb. Sad. Determined to do everything he can to find you.

Lucifer had come running to him in a state of panic, informing him that they couldn’t find you.

He rarely saw Lucifer act that way, so he knew it had to be serious.

He joined in on the search for you too.

Barbatos tried convincing him to stay at the castle, but he couldn't just sit and do nothing. The peace between the human world and the Devildom is at risk.

After days and weeks of searching with no results, he becomes depressed.

He uses every connection, every resource he has to find you.

But he can’t.

Not even the most powerful being in all the Devildom can locate one human.

To disgrace not only the Devildom, but his Father… It's too much to bear.

I’m such a poor excuse for a demon, how could I lose them so easily?

He sits at his office desk, staring down at the paperwork he’s supposed to be finishing. He's severely behind.

But instead of picking up the pen, his hands are clutching at his auburn hair as tears stream down his cheeks.

Barbatos walks on him in this state several times.

The sight of the dark, heavy bags under the Prince’s eyes causes a pang of sadness in his heart. He longs to comfort him.

But the Prince has become distant from him.

He doesn’t understand why Barbatos doesn’t use his powers to find you in such desperate times.

He’s confused. Angry.

He orders Barbatos away, and rests his head into his folded arms, wishing you were wrapped up in them instead.

Wherever you are, MC, I promise we will find you. We’ll bring you home.

💛Simeon💛

When Simeon learns of your disappearance, he almost doesn’t believe it.

But when he’s forced to face the reality of your absence, he feels it deep within his heart.

His usual calm demeanor starts to crack, but he wants to stay brave for Luke.

He doesn’t want to scare the young angel.

At first, he’s restless, pacing through the corridors of Purgatory Hall, trying to think of any way to contribute to your search.

But it’s been weeks. And still no sign of you.

Now he sits in one of the arm chairs in his bedroom, gazing out the window.

My little lamb, where have you disappeared to?

A book that he’s given up reading rests on his lap, his fingertips ghosting over the corners of the pages.

He wishes you were here with him, sitting comfortably in his lap while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

His eyes well up with tears at the thought.

Luke checks in with him often, bringing him updates when he can and suggesting they get out of his room for a while.

He sits with Luke in a cafe for a while, nursing a cup of coffee while Luke chatters about all of the things he’s going to do with you when you return.

This should cheer him up, but instead it sends a wave of indescribable sadness washing over him.

It’s not Luke’s fault, of course.

He appears to be handling it better than he is.

Simeon, who normally thrives on the joy he brings others through conversation and gentle smiles, requests to be alone.

He shuts himself away in his room, finally letting the tears fall.

His heart burns with grief as his body trembles.

As a writer, he figures the only thing he can do is compose a letter of his feelings for you.

MC, My love, please return home as soon as you can. Are you safe? I think of you constantly. Your absence brings a great sadness over me that I haven’t felt in quite some time. Even as a well known author, my words alone cannot express how deeply I miss and care for you. I love you, MC. I long to feel the warmth of you by my side once more. -Simeon

💙Luke💙

They try to go easy on telling Luke the news of your disappearance.

The young angel knew something was wrong when Simeon sat him down, a serious expression painted across his face.

“W-What?! MC is gone?!”

His heart is full of sadness and confusion, worried about where you could have possibly ran off to.

You wouldn’t just leave him without telling him where you were going, right?

He tries not to think about that.

So he puts all his energy into baking.

Desserts and pastries of all kinds line the kitchen tables and counters of Purgatory Hall.

Barbatos walks into the kitchen to see flour and a variety of different colored icing all over.

But there is Luke, frosting on his nose and tears in his eyes, baking away.

“I-I have to make sure there’s plenty of desserts for them to eat when they return!”

Luke offers several pastries for Barbatos to take to the brothers.

He doesn’t usually take kindly to them, but he knows they are working hard to find you.

He eventually slows down, growing tired from his baking frenzy.

Simeon goes to check on him, and finds the little angel asleep at the table, his head cradled in his arms and surrounded by a mountain of cookies he just got done baking.

He stirs a little when Simeon carries him to bed.

“M-MC…” he whimpers. “They’ll come back, right?”

He’s half awake now, aware of Simeon tucking him into bed.

The older angel gives him a sad smile. “Of course Luke, they love you so much. I know they’ll return home soon.”

Luke sniffs, a tear falling down his cheek as he begins to drift back to sleep.

“I-I miss them…I want them to try all of my desserts…”

Simeon wipes away his tears, attempting to hold back his own.

Luke begins to snore softly, dreaming of baked goods and picnics where you are there to share them with.

🖤Solomon🖤

When you first go missing, Solomon is confused.

You were just with him, where did you go? Is this some sort of joke?

His worry causes the demon brothers to panic.

Solomon is never too bothered by anything. He’s seen a lot of things in his lifetime.

But when you go missing suddenly with no explanation?

That’s something that terrifies him.

He hears the news from the brothers that your pact is no longer active with them.

That worries him even more.

He immediately jumps into action.

He searches the location of where you were last seen and picks up on lingering traces of magic.

That's odd, he thinks. He was proud of how far you've come with your abilities as his apprentice, but he knew this magic was way too strong to be yours.

This was the work of someone much more powerful.

Nonetheless, a flutter of hope rises in his chest. He's one step closer to finding you.

He analyzes the magic, and comes to the conclusion that you were transported through time to a past version of the Devildom.

Once he connects all the dots, he uses Barbatos' power to find you.

Of course, it takes a few tries, but he finds you.

He let's out a breath of relief as he gathers you into his arms, squeezing you tight.

You sob into his chest as he holds you.

His poor, adorable apprentice. Lost and confused.

"There there, MC. It's going to be alright. We'll get you home soon."

But now he’s stuck there too, with no way to contact the brothers or Diavolo to tell them of your location.

He could, theoretically return but he wouldn't dare go back to the present without you by his side.

Lucifer about murdered him already, and you desperately needed his help.

He secretly couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone.

But this will be interesting, he thought.

Let's see how this plays out.

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resinfish · 11 months

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Okay, dollblr, I need your help

My friend's doll collection was stolen on May 19th by his shitty landlord. Charges have been filed, but the landlord and the moving company he used to transport the dolls and other stolen property have been uncooperative in giving the information needed to trace and recover the dolls.

I'm asking that this post be shared as far and wide as possible so he has some hope of getting his most beloved and distinctive dolls back.

If anyone sees a massive dump of Ringdolls and Dollfie Dreams on Mercari, eBay, or Facebook, especially in/around/from the Louisville, KY area, please contact me so I can let him know.

I will update as we assess the full extent of the loss, but the dolls we're asking people to keep an eye out for at the moment are

Ringdoll K fullset edition with attached hair, NS. No outfit. Distinctive features: One magnet fell out and was put back in back upside down, so his headcap doesn't stay closed.

DIM Minimee Ruki head, NS. Distinctive features: Vampire mod.

Custom House Mina (both Saint Mina and LE Sad Mina), NS

Ringdoll Quiz, GS, fullset

Bobobie Pixie. Distinctive features: sky blue skin that yellowed to a minty color. Probably wearing green pajamas with brown airplanes made by me.

ResinSoul Yao, WS. His first doll, probably yellowed a fair bit by now. Distinctive features: a small chip on one of her horns.

DIM Minimee heads of all Gazette and Dir En Grey members. If these turn up as a lot, contact us, it's probably them.

Soom Dain

Soom Dawn

2 60cm Sweetdolls, NS

HZ WangYe head

This ResinSoul Dai and 1st gen Bobobie Apollo, probably still in these outfits

Any dolls that appear in a large group with these should be reported.

I will update tomorrow with more specifics on the missing Ringdolls and DD/DD mods when we've had a chance to sit down and assess the extent of the theft.

@okamikodomo @fullyfunctionalminiaturebeehive @buffdolls @laptopcoffee @lupusdarkmoon @lordhigheverythingelse @nyxypixie @freakstylebjd @literally anyone and everyone we've ever met in this community

Thank y'all in advance for any help, he's gutted over this and I am on his behalf. Still in shock that there are people this vile in the world.

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maximotts · 1 year

Note

i feel like cowboy wanda would be so gentle the first few times she has sex with you bc she’s worried she’ll hurt you and scare you off but eventually she loses control a bit and manhandles you into position and when she pins you down, you moan and then the most DEVILISH smile spreads across her face

Ooo okay okay it's interesting you brought this up because I've been thinking about their first encounter a bit lately! We'll ignore that this turned into a whole fic, okay? I love them sm Also this isn't really edited because it was supposed to be a short answer and now it's uhm.. not short, so forgive any typos

18+ only please . wc: 2.7k . cw: first meeting hookup, drinking, dirty talk, oral, fingering, v light spanking, lap sits, possessiveness, Wanda being smitten, the pickup truck sex a lot of y'all have been asking me about that I said was coming, morning after with Wanda because she's as proper as she is filthy

Basically right now I have their first time more as a hookup where bunny is new to town and goes out to a bar one night to maybe make friends and see the environment, but then she meets Wanda and her group of friends who are all more than welcoming and you're having a great time hanging out with them.

But your eyes keep drifting to Wanda. Of course Wanda notices and, being the smooth talker she is, starts flirting with the new girl. She buys you as many drinks as you want which, end up being stronger than you're used to, but your nerves keep you ordering more. When she finally slips an arm around you, cornering you in the booth you'd only just plopped yourself into, you're more than ready for Wanda to kiss you— and kiss you she does.

You're shy by nature, never having made out with anyone in a bar, much less with a girl you'd only known for a few hours, but Wanda's thumb brushing over your cheek while she bites down on your bottom lip has you forgetting everything you're used to which admittedly, isn't much. Somehow she's pulled your thighs over her own, toying with the stretchy hem of the form-fitting skirt you'd decided to wear last minute. When she touches a particularly sensitive spot, you shiver and Wanda chuckles, "You cold, darlin'? Pretty as your arms are, I'll let you borrow my jacket if it'd help."

And so the night goes on with Wanda's thick denim jacket slung over your shoulders, her arm around your waist wherever the two of you walk. Normally you'd hate the presumptive way the cowgirl was handling you, as if she owned you already, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit you wanted her to stake her claim. So, in your slightly inebriated state, you took a leap, "Wands, I'm sleepy..."

Which catches her attention immediately. "Well now," Wanda pulls you close then, fingers carefully treading the line between caressing your hip and groping your ass; it would be the first time she whispers in your ear, but it'll never stop being insanely hot. "I hope you're telling me because you're going to let me take you home. I'd be real sad leaving tonight without you."

You wish your giggle of a reply didn't sound so girlish and naïve, but in hindsight, you had no idea the sheer intensity you were in for. "Only if you promise to behave yourself."

—

She's driven about halfway back to her house before she has to pull over; technically it was her land, pulled over to the side of the winding road and turning her truck engine off. "I know I promised to take you home, I still will, but I can't take another second not having my hands on you."

It takes you back a little; all you'd been doing was scratching over her jeans while you stared at the woman driving, but you weren't going to argue with her. "I don't really-"

"I've wanted you on my lap since I laid eyes on you. Get over here." Thankfully she doesn't have to convince you any farther, holding back a groan as you straddled her legs, skirt riding up inch by inch. It was a tight squeeze with you between her and the steering wheel, but Wanda hardly noticed once you started kissing her. This time was impossibly hotter, Wanda's tongue taking control of the kiss before moving on to shamelessly leave marks along your jaw and neck.

And Wanda is too good at getting your clothes out of the way, leaving you topless with record speed, squeezing at your breasts roughly while you struggled just to keep up with her mouth. "What if someone sees..."

The brunette only starts toying with your nipples, relishing in the way it got you rolling your hips. "It's pitch dark, silly girl. I can barely see you out here, don't worry your pretty little head."

You lost the last bit of your restraint the moment Wanda passed her fingertips over your underwear. They were thin lace, chosen by design so as not to show under your skirt, but they drove Wanda wild. She pushed them aside to slide her fingers along where you were already warm and sensitive, hips stuttering as she stroked over your clit. "O-Oh.."

"Look at you, already wet and needy. Were you like this all night? That why I caught you squeezing your thighs together so often?" You shook your head, trying to deny it, but you weren't even fooling yourself.

Wanda's had you rocking in place for hours by this point; you thought sure you'd been subtle and being called out for your behavior found your head ducking into the crook of Wanda's shoulder to avoid her knowing gaze. "Aww, it's okay! It'll be our little secret, promise..."

Wanda discovered night one what a responsive person you were, delighting in the vice grip you held on the back of her seat while she rolled your nipple in time with her other hand on your sensitive bud. You rocked against her hands as best you could, fighting to keep pace, but hopefully not finish so easily— it'd just been so long and you needed this much more than expected.

The next morning, you'd blame the alcohol. "Wanda please, I- I need.."

"What do you need, sweetheart, wanna cum? Make a mess in my truck after I barely got started with you?" You were nodding so hard your neck hurt, moaning quietly as you felt your body reach its peak; the first of many that night. Ears ringing and thoughts so pleasantly fuzzy, you couldn't recall a time you'd felt more free, in an old pickup truck or otherwise.

"Ooh, aren't you just a masterpiece..." The brunette took her time letting you down, pointer and middle fingers wandering until they just barely pushed into you: less than an inch, but unendingly torturous. "Sounds like I was able to make you feel better, least a little bit."

Tired hips tried every which way to sink onto Wanda's long fingers, the same ones you'd felt on you over your clothes back in the bar and had lists of naughty places you wanted her to put them. But each time, your lover avoids delving anywhere past shallow. "You're being mean, just fuck me."

"Mean? After I let you cum as early as you wanted? You don't know what mean looks like on me. Don't think you want to," A succession of wet slaps echoed in the truck's cabin, the silence of everything around you both amplifying the sound of Wanda lightly hitting your sensitive cunt and your resulting whimpers.

"Told you so. Now, bend over and stay still while I get a proper look like the obedient girl I know you are," Manhandling you over the length of her seats shouldn't have been as easy as it was after the long night out, but Wanda was strong and you never fought her while she pushed your arms to the passenger car door and spread your bent knees apart.

If you were begging her to fuck you out loud, you wouldn't be surprised, wishing so hard that if Wanda still refused to give you exactly what you wanted, she'd at least use her fingers, tongue, anything to fill where you currently felt so empty. "Please- I need more-"

Your thighs shake as she licks over your puffy folds, mumbling the most depraved things about you, your taste, your warmth, leaving you with the most intoxicating combination of feeling both used and adored. "You just keep dripping into my mouth, baby, it's impossible to keep you clean..."

"Can't help it, sorry," But your words aren't matching your actions, not when you kept searching out Wanda's tongue each time she flicked at your clit, pitifully rolling over the rough surface whenever she flattened it out.

You'd long since fogged up the windows, smudging the fog as your overheated cheek met the cold glass; each time you managed to open your eyes you remember exactly where you are, woods rustling in the middle of the night. "W-Wanda! 'm close again, please please...!"

"Mean girls wouldn't let you have two orgasms back to back, no matter how pretty." Wanda likes to believe she actually thought about whether or not to give you what you wanted, but in reality she knew she would leave you wanting the second you turned bratty. Sure it was a risk, not knowing how you'd react, but it was well worth the test to see if you had a chance of handling her past a quick night's distraction. "Straighten up, we're only a few minutes from home."

"That's not fair—"

But Wanda was already pushing you upright again, haphazardly fixing your dress, going so far as to buckle your seatbelt as if it'd keep you from your uncomfortable wiggling. "My car my rules! Like I said, we're not far."

Wanda expected you to pout and huff the whole way, worried in the back of her mind you wouldn't let her lay another hand on you after her denial, but she was pleasantly surprised. Somewhere shortly after she pulled back onto the road, you'd taken her hand; first just to play with her fingers, innocent fidgeting at best, but before she knew it, her digits were engulfed in sinfully wet warmth.

Her fingers in your mouth made the pair of you dizzy, hands holding her wrist as you pumped her digits in and out, tongue swirling over the tips and grinning once Wanda's neutral expression cracked, lips parting in a low groan. "Do mean girls let the good ones suck the strap they've been feeling near them all night or do they only get to play with their hands?"

"Depends on if they show them how bad they want it." Wanda could only look your way for seconds at a time, the visual of your half-lidded gaze trained on her jeans while you so obviously used your imagination to envision some other scenario, muffling your own needy sounds as you forced her fingers to the back of your throat... she'd underestimated the new girl.

Whether it was any lingering alcohol talking or whatever boldness Wanda unlocked that night, something urged you to continue goading her, making a show of spreading your legs and slipping her wet fingers to your sex before closing them once more, slowly grinding her shaking digits to sate yourself for that last tiny stretch of road to the farmhouse. "Bad enough to turn your hand into a toy for as long as you let me."

Wanda made that final turn up her driveway, parking her truck fast as she could with only one hand, "You're lucky I didn't crash just now, you little devil, can't wait to get you inside."

"Lead the way, since we're playing by your rules and all." As soon as she got her hand back, Wanda practically dragged you from her vehicle and for as many hours as you spent awake in her home, you couldn't remember a single detail of any room she brought you through that night.

—

When you wake up, it's to a dimly lit bedroom, curtains drawn so only a sliver of late morning sun peeked through. Your body ached, but it wasn't from the drinking, taut muscles and lethargic thoughts bringing back bits and pieces of everything you got up to the second Wanda got you past the front door.

The same Wanda whose bed you assumed you were currently sprawled out in. Doubt crept in as you realized you're alone, fretting over if you should've fallen asleep there or not. You were deciding whether it'd be more awkward to sneak out and go back to town on foot or to search out Wanda and ask if she'd mind driving you back to your place when you heard a single knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

Your brow furrowed, "It's your room, of course you can come in." Wanda cracked the door slowly, the back of her loose flannel shirt greeting you first before she turned around, a small tray in her hands. "Sorry for crashing."

"Never said you were unwelcome, I'm sorry for letting you wake up in a strange place by yourself... and for not leaving you at least a shirt, my bad." Your arms hastily bundled the blankets to cover your chest, your nakedness pointed out to you, but Wanda laughed, setting the tray down before heading for her dresser. "Don't worry, darlin, I love the view just as much in the daylight."

"What a reassuring hostess I have," Pulling the t-shirt she tossed you over your head, the delightful scents coming from the tray down the bed now catching your attention. On it was a short stack of pancakes, bacon, orange juice, strawberries... the biggest breakfast you'd seen since you'd come to town. "Did you make that?"

Wanda nodded and slid the food closer to you before sitting on the edge of her mattress, "I don't typically make this much food, but I had to get up early to make some rounds in the barn and I figured I owed you a hearty breakfast after such a nice night."

There was something so endearing to how she explained her actions, rambling on to offset her nerves, No one had even gone to such lengths to make your morning so comfortable after a single hookup, but this set the bar high for anyone else who tried. Not that you'd ever have to worry about another first night, but neither of you knew that yet.

For now Wanda scrambled to find the right way to show genuine interest in the girl she'd brought home and fucked every which way until they passed out and you amusedly ate your special pancakes while watching Wanda try, her fumbling charming you more than she'd ever imagine.

Eventually you put her out of her misery, putting down your utensils to sit up on your knees and stretch over to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. "I really appreciate it and I'm not even a bit mad with how I woke up, but it's very sweet of you to care, Wands."

"Oh good because I'd really like to see you again sometime, if you're up for it." It would be a rare thing to see Wanda so continuously shy, but she was uncharacteristically smitten and she wanted to get to know you before the rest of the small town came for their changes too.

You hummed as you popped a strawberry into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that painfully reminded Wanda of the previous night, "How's today?"

"Today?" The farmgirl ran a hand through her long hair, cocking her head to the side much like a lost puppy.

"Yeah, today. If you wouldn't mind me following along." With each minute that ticked past, the less you wanted to leave, much preferring a Sunday spent with Wanda than in your flat full of moving boxes.

Her eyes lit up, smile brighter than the sun, “Can’t complain about a beautiful girl all to myself all day!" Wanda was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to show you, from the chicken coops to the haylofts, but she forced herself to keep her cool.. on the surface at least. "Finish up breakfast and I'll find you some kind of pants."

"But I'm so cozy right here without them." Maneuvering over the last bits of food on your plate meant you more fell into Wanda's lap than sat on it, but she caught you nonetheless, tugging you down for the proper kiss she'd been waiting to share with you since early morning light. "Come back to bed with me?"

After the long sleep your energy was renewed, finally able to take Wanda into all your senses again, the taste of her lips, the subtle earthy smell from the work she'd already done that day, her strong hands settling confidently on your upper thighs... getting dressed was the last thing on either of your minds. "Wouldn't be much of a hostess if I didn't let my guest do as she pleased."

In the end, the pair of you might've set the world record for longest date from Sunday morning to when Wanda finally dropped a reluctant you back into town Wednesday afternoon.

#lets ignore that I have yet to make the au post #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #cowgirl!wanda #maximotts #motts writes.

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hyunfilms · 8 months

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this time around (lee felix) | one shot.

—summary: life decides it's finally the right time.

—pairing: lee felix x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers | fluff, smut

—word count: 3.9k

—content/warnings: blue haired felix 😮‍💨, cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex - but not super descriptive!!, lots of kisses and intimate/sweet moments, use of pet names: baby/angel/love, oc’s friend also uses ‘baby’ in a platonic way, quickly edited so pls excuse any mistakes!!

—INSPIRED BY: LOVE ME AGAIN - V

It’s funny how life works.

Especially when you’re sitting at this wedding, sipping on another glass of rosé— staring at the one man who, at one point, meant the entire universe to you.

Then, it’s also funny how life works; when life decides that this is your person, just not the right time.

“Girl, can you go and do something? He keeps looking at you. And don’t tell me he isn’t because I can see that blue head from miles away.” One of your bestfriends since college said. He nudges your arm, making you almost choke on the sip you just took.

“No, Reggie!” You almost whine, turning towards him. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’d say to him.”

“Okay, but baby, he looks like he’s dying to talk to you. Poor Felix. Y/N always playing her goddamn games.”

“Quit it.” You nudge him back and he snorts.

“I’m kidding. But seriously, he looks like he wants to talk to you. Who cares if it’s been so long? I’m sure the conversation will flow perfectly. Give it a chance.” He takes a sip of his own cocktail. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you were head over heels for that man just as he was for you.” You sigh, setting your glass down— quickly reminiscing about the past.

You might have been young, and you may not have experienced everything life had to offer yet; but to say Felix was the love of your life would be an understatement.

He was everything to you.

Love, adoration, fun.

Sweetness.

He was also sadness, anger, hurt.

Pain.

Everything that entails love; being so, so in love.

And it’s just unfortunate that it wasn’t the right time because Felix was someone you pictured your life with. Everything about the relationship was right, and equally balanced. He showed you just how much he loved you and how much he adored you. You had more good times than bad with him. He taught you how to communicate better, to express your needs and wants, to enjoy life and live in the present moment.

He taught you so much that he really is part of the reason why you’re the person you are today.

After the three years of dating, Felix was graduating college and you were going into your senior year. Understandably, you felt like you needed to experience your last year by yourself, and you felt like Felix needed to figure out his plans moving forward. As much as you loved the way he factored you into every decision, you felt like it was wrong for him to do so— for him to feel like his life revolved solely around you. And of course, you loved him. This would’ve worked. But, it wouldn’t have felt right.

You needed to find yourself without Felix, and vice versa.

Breaking up with Felix was probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, but he understood. And because he loved you, he let you go. There was no bad blood, no hint of hate or anger; Felix had only left with more love and hope, praying that you’ll be okay.

Maybe one day, you’ll find your way back to each other.

It’s funny how life works.

“I’m not going to force it. I’ll let it happen if it happens.” You look at Reggie, taking another big sip of your rosé; eyes quickly glancing over to Felix from over the glass. He’s still conversing with a few mutual friends, eyes meeting yours from a distance. His eyes are soft, facial expression slightly unreadable.

Pressed, crisp black button down with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Silver watch adorning the left wrist, slacks sitting nicely on his frame.

You’re sure of the butterflies you feel. It’s crazy how Felix still has this effect on you.

You clear your throat and revert your attention back to Reggie with a: “Can we go dance?”

“Now you’re talking.” Reggie laughs, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor for a dance with other friends. The majority of the time you’re on the dance floor, you’ve temporarily pushed your thoughts and feelings away to enjoy being around friends you haven’t been able to hang out with or see in quite some time. You’re enjoying yourself, singing and dancing along to the music blasting in the venue. At one point, you don’t realize that Felix and his friends have joined in, creating one huge crowd in the middle of the dance floor that’s become the life of the party.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and get some air. I’ll be back in a few.” You say in Reggie’s ear. He nods, throwing up the ‘okay’ sign to acknowledge that he understood you through the loud music.

“You need me to come babysit your ass?” He leans near your ear to quickly ask.

“I’ll be fine!” You laugh, rushing off to the bathroom to relieve yourself from all that rosé. You take a couple of moments to freshen up and pat away at your makeup, hoping to keep it together for the remainder of the night. You fluff your hair a bit before giving yourself one last look before walking out and heading towards the back end of the hotel.

It’s a beautiful night tonight— one where the stars are twinkling brightly above, dotted throughout the night sky and circling around the full moon. There’s a faint breeze that feels awfully good on your skin right now, the waves crashing against the surface just right below the hill where the hotel sits.

“Hey.” A familiar, deep voice comes from behind you. You fiddle with your fingers a bit, bottom lip tucked underneath your teeth as you turn and come face to face with Felix— eyes completely fixed on the one man whom you’ve always loved; the one man who, at one point, meant the entire universe to you. “I’m sorry, I just came outside to make sure you were okay. But, I guess I should’ve figured it was since Reggie was still—” Felix shakes his head and lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for checking. I—” You lazily point at the sky. “I just needed some air. Was getting really hot in there.”

“Yeah it was.” He laughs a bit. “You sure you’re doing okay? Do you need me to get you water or anything?” Typical Felix, you think. He’s still the same. Everything about him has remained unchanged.

“I’m okay, Felix. Thank you.” You respond softly. “It’s nice to see you.” He digs his hands into his pockets, head tilting to the side.

“It’s nice to see you, too. It’s been so long.” He smiles. He’s the first to step forward and envelope you in a hug, taking in his scent as you hug him back. Oddly enough, everything feels the same. Felix’s hugs have always been the best, and part of you hates having to part once the moment is over. “You look amazing, Y/N.”

“You do, too.” You point at his hair. “Though, I have to say the blue hair was a surprise?” He laughs and nods.

“Uh yeah, was kinda a bet with some of my friends.”

“It looks good though, you pull it off well.”

“Thank you.” He licks his lips before nodding towards the bench further down the path. “Do you wanna catch up?” He pauses. “I-I mean it’s fine if you wanna get back to the party, totally understand. I just thought we could kill two birds with one stone and–”

“I’d love to.” You cut him off with a sweet smile, letting Felix lead the way to the bench.

And so here you are, sitting side by side with Felix— enjoying the night while the music continues to play in the background. You start by telling Felix what you’ve been up to all these years, how your parents have been, living life in the city. Felix says he’s been in and out of the city, traveling back and forth between Australia to hang out with family in between work. You share lots of laughs when you update each other about family and their whereabouts, reminiscing about the times when your families would have lots of fun together. The both of you also talk about how it’s been awhile since everyone’s been under the same roof, but it’s a nice occasion to be together. Then, somehow, the conversation shifts to love and dating. You awkwardly tell Felix that you haven’t really been in a serious relationship since graduation. You’ve dated around, but nothing felt right.

Nothing felt equally balanced, or like it was meant to be.

But, it’s okay. You reassure him you’ve been okay focusing on you and doing your own thing. In time, you’ll welcome whatever is meant to be in your life. And Felix tells you he’s glad to hear that— that he’s also dated around but things just didn’t feel right, either.

“Y/N.” He calls for you as he looks out, then shifts his attention back to you. “Are you happy?” He looks at you, really looks at you, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Almost like he’s doing his best to read you, to find the answer deep within your orbs, your body language.

“I guess so, yeah.” You softly smile at him before looking at the view. “Are you?” He shrugs a bit.

“Yeah. Think so.” He licks his lips and lets out a small breath. “As long as you’re happy, then that’s all that matters to me.”

“Thanks, Lix.” There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you two after that conversation. But, something shifts in the air; shifts enough to the point where you feel Felix’s eyes rest back on you from your peripherals. The sudden tension could be felt from miles away, but you’re not sure how to act on it. The simplest thing you could do is—

“I’m sorry, is there something on my face?” You break the silence and ask, a bit confused as to why Felix just keeps looking at you, staring; fixed. He lets out a small laugh before shaking his head.

“No, there isn’t. I just—” He pauses. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Always been. I can’t help it.” He says, eyes softening again as he settles on your features. He gently brushes the hair away from your face, thumb trailing down to your cheek to caress the surface. You lean into his touch a little more, having to pull away when you realize the reality of this all.

It’s funny how life works.

“You know.. I think I’m gonna call it a night.” You shyly chuckle and look down at your lap, hands awkwardly rubbing away at the fabric of your dress as you let the excuse linger in the air for a second. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was after all that dancing and singing.” Felix chuckles. He feels a little embarrassed, but he also dug himself into this one. He shouldn’t have reached out so quickly. He couldn’t help it.

“Do you need me to drive you anywhere?”

“No, I rented out a room for the night solely for this reason.” You stand with Felix following suit.

“Let me walk you to your room then?”

“Oh, you really don’t have to Lix. I’ll be okay.” He smiles hearing the nickname roll off your tongue.

“I want to.” You look at him with a small smile and nod.

“Okay. I just need to grab my things.” He follows behind, keeping a safe distance just to keep you comfortable– not knowing that you’d rather have him close than far away.

Inside, everyone is still keeping up the energy except for a few that have either left, or decided to sit down for the remainder of the night. Reggie is drinking water at your table, and he can’t help but throw a certain look your way when he sees you walking in with Felix following right behind you. You catch on though, and you simply shrug while Felix returns to his friends to let them know he’s heading out.

“Okay so.. what exactly is happening here? Miss ‘It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’d say to him.’” You roll your eyes and grab your things.

“I’m heading up to my room. Felix is just walking me there.”

“Walking you all the way up to the second floor? Goodness me.” You laugh and shake your head.

“You should get to yours soon, too.”

“Mhm, I want a progress report tomorrow morning.” He puckers his lips before eyeing you up and down.

“Stop it.” You glare at him. “I love you, goodnight.” You simply tell him before turning on your heel to bid your other friends goodbye, along with the bride and groom.

“Get it girl, I love you too!” You hear him respond just as you continue your goodbye’s until you’re near the entrance, with Felix waiting right outside the doors in the hallway.

“Hope you’re ready for a good long trip up to the second floor.” Felix laughs.

“Yeah, sounds pretty exhausting, honestly. It’s been a night.”

“It has, but I had lots of fun.”

“I did too.” He steps inside the elevator after you, leaning back against the railing. He eyes your figure, the way the dress hugs your curves nicely, heels strapped around your ankles. You’ve always been so beautiful; everything about you, inside and out. You can see the way Felix is focused on you through his reflection on the elevator doors in front of you, and it makes your heart do flips.

Because he does that thing he always does— when he tilts his head at a certain angle just to see you, read you, perfectly. Knowing you’ll meet his eyes at some point just for him to pull you in closer.

To plant a kiss on your lips,

Down to your jaw,

Collarbone—

“Y/N, is this not your floor?” Felix asks, breaking you out of your thoughts when you realize he’s holding the elevator doors open.

“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a bit.” He lets out a tiny laugh as he watches you walk down the hallway, turning right at the end to get to the second door. You tap your hotel key against the reader, hand twisting the handle to unlock the door. Before you can open it fully, you turn back to Felix— seeing him quietly standing there with his hands dug into his pockets. “This is me. Thanks for walking me to my room, Lix.”

“Course. I guess I’ll let you be.” He smiles toothlessly at you. Your inner dialogue is conflicted right now, wondering if you should just let him be and let this end right where it is—

While the other half is yearning to keep him around, to have his company, to just be with him even after all these years.

“Have a good night, pretty girl.” He continues, hoping that he really doesn’t have to part with you right now. He’s not gonna force it though, and he’s not gonna say anything else— even though he feels like he has a lot more to say to you tonight. Maybe this is how it was meant to be after all, which Felix will have to learn to put to rest if it truly ends this way.

But, before he can turn on his heel to walk away, you follow up with:

“Actually, do you wanna just stay and hang out a bit more?”

“If it’s not a bother.”

“Never. Sorry, I should’ve asked earlier. I just didn’t want to make it awkward or whatever.”

“Could never be that way with you, Y/N.” You chuckle, stepping in and letting Felix follow you in. You set your clutchbag onto the side table at the corner of the room, undoing your heels and setting them aside.

“God, that feels amazing.” Felix laughs as he sits on the edge of your bed, watching as you get comfortable. “I can’t wait to get comfortable. You have a room here, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna change and just come back here? I feel bad that I’ll be the only one getting comfortable.” He laughs a bit and shakes his head.

“I’m good for now. I promise.” He watches as you undo your necklace. “Need help with your dress?” You look at him through the mirror as you set your necklace down onto the drawer and silently nod. “I got you.” He says, getting behind you to help you unzip your dress. It’s something small, but so intimate and sweet.

And with Felix, it feels perfectly right. Even if years have passed. You never feel out of place with him, and he only feels like home to you.

He slowly unzips your dress, eyes trailing down as his hand falls down to the small of your back. You feel his breath tickle the back of your neck, body only inches away from yours as he keeps his position there.

“Felix.” You softly call his name, and he can tell. He just knows. He looks at you through the mirror, hand slowly wrapping around your waist.

“Is it weird to say that I’ve really missed you?” He says lowly as his eyes trail down your neck this time, fixed on the weak spot that he remembers so, so well.

“No. I’ve missed you, too.”

“I mean it.” His fingers are fiddling with the strap of your dress. “When I saw you tonight, you were all I could think about. Not that anything’s changed, but—“ He lazily slips the strap down, letting it fall to the side as his finger traces a line up your arm; to the curve of your shoulder. “I just couldn’t believe that I was finally seeing you again.”

“Lix.” The way you breathily release his name from your lips tells him everything he needs to know. You’ve missed him too, you’ve really, really missed him, too. And of course he feels the same way you do— absolutely. If it wasn’t for shit falling into place at the wrong time, Felix was sure that he’d still be loving you the way he was before.

No question.

Nothing has changed. The love he’s had for you will always mean more to him than anything in this world.

Felix still feels like love, adoration, fun.

Sweetness.

And if you let him, he would also feel like sadness, anger, hurt.

Pain.

Because Felix is love, and everything that love entails.

“Missed everything about you.” He says, planting a feathery kiss on your shoulders. “Missed the way you laugh.” Another kiss on your shoulder. “The way you smile.” Another near the base of your neck. “Just you.” He says near your ear, reading your expression. You bite onto your bottom lip and finally turn to face him, his hand coming back up to rest on your cheek. “Always been you, love.” His thumb is caressing the surface, giving you leverage to plant a kiss on the palm of his hand.

“Always been.” You mutter back, allowing Felix to fully take you—all of you— in this moment.

Sooner or later, your dress is on the floor while you continue to keep your lips pressed against Felix’s in the heat of the moment; afraid to break the kiss and create distance. You don’t ever want Felix away from you again, no. You want him close— with you, for you, by you.

Just you.

He takes his time with you, letting his hands roam across every inch of your body while he takes you in and settles in between your thighs; pressing his pink, plump lips across your body like he’s soothing you, making up for the years that you’ve lost.

You’re tangled up in him, but you find that there’s no other place that you’d rather be than here; giving Felix the freedom to love you, love on you, however he chooses to tonight. You trust him to take care of you because he always has, and he always will.

It’s not long before your hands are gripping the sheets, repeatedly calling Felix’s name like a mantra. He praises you as he picks up the pace, pounding relentlessly to show his need for you. His lips graze the surface of your neck, collarbone, chest, whispering sweet nothings into your skin:

Missed everything about you.

So perfect for me, love.

So beautiful, so pretty.

Always been you.

All about you.

He continues, and continues— holding you close to his body while he tries to go slower, deeper; hitting all the right places that you like so much just to hear you, see you, writhe underneath him.

You.

Let me be yours.

“Fuck, Lix. I’m close—“ Is the only thing that you’re able to say as you feel the coil within you threatening to unravel. And he must feel it too with the way that his hips begin to stutter, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tries to hold on. He feels your walls completely tighten around him, pulsating as your face contorts in pleasure and a silent moan leaves your lips.

“Baby, where do you want me— fuck— I’m—“ Felix barely lets out. You reassure him that he’s okay to let go inside of you, and not a second passes before he’s painting your walls. His forehead falls onto yours just as the both of you come back down from your highs, focusing on regulating your breathing after the intense pleasure that washed over you. “Are you okay, angel? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, close to a whisper. He kisses you lightly on the tip of your nose, before he seals one off on your lips. He holds it there for awhile before pulling back, realizing you still have yet to respond to him.

“I’m okay. Not hurt.” He nods.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Felix takes his time cleaning you up and soothing you, helping you get washed up and ready for bed just before he leaves to do the same.

For a moment, you feel like everything is over. That maybe, that was the closure you needed to finally close off that chapter in your book. That maybe, that was it to Felix and you’d return to being [somewhat] strangers again. It makes you a little scared, a little anxious.

But, it all blows away when Felix comes back, dressed for bed just as he had said. He shuts off your lights and slips into the bed next to you, pulling the sheets up so that you’re comfortable.

“For a second, I didn’t think you were actually going to come back.” He lets out a small, breathy laugh as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush to his body.

“What, why not? I’m here to stay, love. Not going anywhere.”

“Even when tomorrow comes?”

“Even when tomorrow comes.” He kisses the back of your head. “Unless, you have other plans already?”

“No. Just you.” He chuckles.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You snuggle closer to him, allowing his warmth to completely envelope your body. Before you know it, you’ve fallen into a deep sleep in Felix’s arms, and he does too. Even when the morning comes, you still find yourself wrapped around Felix and snuggled against his body, light kisses being pressed against your head when you wiggle in his arms.

It’s funny how life works.

Because this time around, Felix is here, lying beside you; making things feel right, connected. Balanced. You shift in your position to look at him because this time around, you’re staring at the one man who, up until now, still means the entire universe to you.

Then, it’s also funny how life works; when life decides that this is your person, and this is finally the right time.

This time around.

—perm taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hanji-cafe

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