#and there was a booth and they were trying to remember the around about above across stuff and then I went to the woods

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

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

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind if I sit here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

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

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

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

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

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

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

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

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

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

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

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

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

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

He hums, smirk broadening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You heart is in your throat all over again.

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

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

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

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

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.  

thank you for reading!! x

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

[crueisummer]

𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Hello everyone! Please be patient as this will be my first fanfic/au. Anyway, this would be part of a series, and each song from the playlist above would be the title of a chapter. I still don't know what to call the series, so if you have any suggestions, please send them my way. Anyway, thanks for reading, and enjoy the story! ✧･ﾟ:૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა✧･ﾟ:

chapter warnings: a lot of swearing.

word count: 1.7k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

                𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

01:58 ━━━━●───── 03:29 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

Your car pulled up in front of the restaurant’s door. Your security guard got out of the shotgun seat and opened your car door. Everyone started to go crazy when they saw you. The lights of the paparazzi’s camera flicking every millisecond, trying to get a photo of every move you make. There’s security on your left and right, protecting you.

The door to the restaurant opened and there was a receptionist holding a clipboard.

"Y/F/N Y/L/N." You smile as you look at her. Their eyes widen and mouth gaped before gesturing for you to go follow the usher. You took an elevator and got off on the rooftop. You walked in and looked around, amazed at the beauty of the place. There were a lot of tables and booths, some afloat on water. There's a lot of people and caterers walking around with food and drinks.

Everyone is dressed in semi-formal attire which made you sigh in relief for your outfit. You are wearing a sparkly sleeveless jumpsuit that showed off your curves and just a bit of your skin.

As you made your way into the party, there were a lot of familiar faces. Celebrities, actors, athletes. You saw Kika and Pierre in a booth in the middle.

"Show me the ring!" You scream as soon as you see your best friend. She turns around and laughs at you.

"Well, hello to you too!" She giggles as the two of you hug. You pull away quickly to see her left hand. A big diamond rock sitting on her ring finger.

"Wow. You sure have taste, Gasly, I'll give you that." You smirked at Pierre and hugged him too.

"Congratulations, you guys! So, am I a bridesmaid?" You joke at Kika, fluttering your eyelashes. You have been best friends for 3 years now, having met at a Louis Vuitton fashion show during Paris Fashion Week. Since then, you and Kika were inseparable. You both understood and supported each other.

"Cut the crap. You know you're maid of honor." She says smirking.

"Oh my god! I love you so much!" You scream and wrap your arms around her. You’ve never been a maid of honor and somewhere in the back of your mind, a memory clicked. You remembered that you and Kika promised to be each other’s maid of honor.

The couple laughs at your reaction and Kika tells you she’ll set up a meeting soon about the wedding, she’s going to be needing help. You nod right away. The grooms are always no help when planning a wedding. Just then, a guy comes up from behind you and greets them.

"Speaking of, here's the best man!" Pierre walks closer to him and does that guy hug thing. The mysterious man was slightly taller than Pierre and was wearing a white unbuttoned shirt and some khaki shorts. He looked good.

"Charles!” Kika greeted. Charl? Is he French? It's the French that don't pronounce the "s" at the end of their names, right?

He kisses Kika's cheeks while he and Pierre talk a bit in French and laugh. You didn't realize you were staring until Kika introduced you to him.

"Y/N, this is Charles, he'll be Pierre's best man." Kika says and you turn to face him. He kind of has a boyish face but his piercing green eyes and stubble that ran from chin to jaw makes him look mature. He looked gorgeous.

"Hi, I’m Charles." He says while extending his hand. He looks into your eyes while talking to you and you almost melted. You shyly look at your hands and look back again at his eyes, to see that he didn’t remove his gaze. Those eyes. How wonderful it would be to get lost in them.

"I’m Y/N." You smile shyly. You were getting shy. You never get shy. You always had the upper hand and was very confident in yourself when meeting new people. But somehow, someway, you can’t say anything.

You take his hand and shake it. You felt like you were drugged when your hands met. It put you on a high, one you want to be in for the rest of your life.

“So happy to finally meet you. You know, they always talk about you and sing your songs, especially Pierre.” Charles says, to make small talk and show that he is friendly and approachable.

“Oh, does he know? He always says my songs are cheesy.” You say while smirking at Pierre, Kika laughing her ass off. “Although I do have a video of him dancing to You Belong With Me.”

Kika’s eyes widen immediately, and the couple looks at each other. Pierre’s face is red from embarrassment. He exclaims, “You told me you didn’t send her the video!”

While the two bickered, you didn’t notice Charles was now standing closer to you. “You know, I would love to have a copy of that video,” He whispers. He was so close that you could smell his perfume.

Before you could reply, Kika is shoo-ing the guys. “Anyway, me and Y/N are gonna do some girl talk now.”

“Look for me later if you want the video.” You whisper to Charles, and he smirks before leaving with Pierre. Charles turns around and winks at you. It caught you off guard, but you smiled. When he looks away and turns back around, you look at Kika and see she was on her phone. Oh my god. The greatest thing that has ever happened to you and your best friend was on her fucking phone.

Kika looks up on her phone and was about to talk to you when she gets dragged into another booth. She looks at you and mouths, “Later.” But you wave her off, you know you can’t hog the host of the party.

You roamed around the party talking to everyone but Charles. You caught up with Kika’s friends; some you met before, some you haven’t. You got along with the other bridesmaids which erased the worry from the back of your mind that you might not get along.

One group of girls were calling themselves “WAGS” and laughing. It seemed like an inside joke, so you whispered to Kika, “What the fuck is a WAG?” and she laughs.

“Wives and girlfriends of professional athletes.” Your face scrunched up in disgust and she nodded her head. “I know, right?”

Good thing Kika was there to tell you that the girls who were calling themselves WAGS are in a relationship with F1 drivers. Kelly and Max, Carmen and George, Heidi and Daniel, Sara and Lance, Lily and Alex, Louise and Kevin, and Egle and Nico.

Some of Pierre’s single friends did try to hit on you, though. But you brushed them off and established being friends with them when they tried to ask you out.

While talking to everyone, you forgot to count how many shots and drinks you’ve been taking. You realized that you were drunk when as you were going to the bathroom, you didn’t take time to adjust to the dimmed lighting and you missed a step and almost fell. Thankfully, a pair of arms came out of nowhere and caught you.

“Est-ce que ça va, mon amour?" Are you okay, love? Charles. You talked to everyone in this party, and this voice you only heard for five minutes but instantly recognize it. He picks you up and you both try to steady yourself.

“Oui, merci.” Yes, thank you. Based on the context of you falling, you assumed that he asked if you were alright. You giggled as you tried your hardest to copy his accent, even though you were flat out drunk.

You lost your balance again and Charles gently set you down to sit on one of the steps. One of his hands going to the small of your back, careful not to hit your back.

Once you were settled, he squats in front of you, a shocked look on his face. He asks, “Tu parles français?" You speak French?

With the dimmed lighting and how close your faces are, you can see just how perfect his face is. He looks like a god.

“What?” You gave up. Your knowledge of the French language only limited to “yes”, “thank you” and “I love you.”

“You understand?” His Monegasque French accent lingering when he talks in English. His grammar is fucking adorable.

“No, I just know a few phrases from travelling to France.” You smile sheepishly. Leaning your head on the wall, “Is it good, though?”

“Yes, yes. Your accent almost fooled me.” He smiles at you. Your stomach is feeling crazy. Is this what it feels like when they say they “have butterflies in their stomach?” Because this feels like a fucking zoo.

“So, I haven’t seen you all night. Have you been ignoring me?” He asks you. You can’t tell if he’s flirting or if it’s a genuine question.

“Hmmm, maybe?” You took a chance and flirted with him. Pretending like you were ignoring his eyes and then looking at him and laughing.

“Why? What did I do?” He pouts. I think he knows that he’s beautiful. Otherwise, he would not have any confidence in pouting in front of a girl, right?

“Hmm, didn’t I tell you to look for me? And not the other way around?” You reminded him.

“Ahh, yes. My apologies, cheri.” He apologizes. His metallic rings startling your warm skin as he takes your right hand and kisses it. You were shocked, eyes wide.

“Can you forgive me, mon amour?” He takes your left hand and kisses it too. With his puppy eyes, he leans closer, still holding both of your hands near his lips.

“I- I-” He looked so gorgeous; you couldn’t say anything. He caught you off guard and your tongue couldn’t form any word. Your brain having a hard time comprehending what was happening.

You nodded your head and he smiled at you. You knew that he was thinking that he had the upper hand, but right now, while he is holding your hands and his face so close to yours, you didn’t mind.

"Apology accepted, mon amour." You try to copy him. His eyes shine when he hears you talk in his mother tongue.

"I have to ask, do you really want Pierre's video, or do you just want my number?" You smirk at him. You try to catch him off guard but he chuckles and smirks back at you.

"Can't a man have both?"

...

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #formula 1 #ferrari #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fic #cl16 #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #pierre gasly #francisca kika gomes #gorgeous #taylor swift #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #⋆｡°✩ #crueisummer works

[jjksblackgf]

too daring for you? | knj (m)

pairing — kim namjoon x reader summary — Namjoon can't keep your roleplaying idea off his head, so he'll make sure to surprise you with it when you least expect it. genre — smut, pwp rate — 18+ word count — 1.9k warnings — explicit sexual content, role playing, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, teabagging, manhandling, light degradation, cum eating.

Perfume, check.

Leather jacket, check.

Favorite watch, check.

Tonight, Namjoon was a different man. His night would not be the same as the others. No more boring date nights inside his apartment. Today he’ll go to a nice bar, where you’ll be expecting him. But what you’re not accounting for is his intentions.

Today he’s fulfilling a fantasy. One he’s been intrigued by since you’ve mentioned it. But to pull it off, he has to be his best confident self. Be in his A game and catch you by surprise.

Checking himself in the mirror and everything looks fine, appropriate. Except his expression. He’s not ready for this. He can only think of your request to spice things up. He didn’t know they needed spicing up in the first place.

“I’m living my greatest fantasy right now,” he remembered saying. You two were cuddling in his bed after sex. You were cozied up to his chest, and he ran the tip of his fingers through your naked spine. He was almost purring.

“Cuddling?” you asked, sounding surprised.

“Intimacy,” he answered, giggling at your amazed expression.

“Really?” you checked. “But I can’t say I’m that surprised. You’re always so… intense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really think we have sex per se, I see it as passionate love making. You’re fully committed to it.”

“And you’re not?” he asked. Your last sentence had his alarm bells turned on.

“Of course I am, love. Don’t get me wrong.” you shifted in bed, supporting your weight in one elbow to look at his face. “And I love that you’re passionate, and that you’re into all sorts of intimacy.”

“But?” he pressed, trying to stay calm.

“But… I, personally, wouldn’t categorize intimacy as a fantasy. I swear I’m not judging you.”

“Okay…”

“Are you mad?” you asked, and he watched as your brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you consider a fantasy?” he asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him. You just stayed in silence and studied his face, your brows still furrowed. “I’m not mad,” he clarified, making sure his voice sounded calm enough. 

He was telling the truth. Mad was not the correct word to describe his feelings. He was a little worried that he wasn’t satisfying you, so he was worried. He wanted you all to himself — soul and body, especially body — and he wanted you to moan how much you belonged to him, so he was possessive. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of another man finding the weak spots he worked so hard to build, so he was jealous. But mad wasn’t one of them.

You sighed, taking him out of his musings, and you answered sheepishly. “I like roleplaying,” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment and changed the subject.

But that night still ran through his mind every time you had sex, and in the ride to that bar he replayed that scene over and over again. He had to know what you were like, who you were, when you didn’t want to be yourself.

That was enough to give him back his confidence in his idea. His curiosity got him into this mess, and it was that same itch that would get him through it. 

The slick wood arches over the bar were the first thing to catch his eyes when he entered. The low light above the tables and booths complimented nicely with the black leather chairs. The live band wasn’t half bad with the smooth jazz. 

The atmosphere was sexy. He picked right.

He sat on a bar stool and asked for his favorite drink.

“A manhattan for me, please,” he heard a familiar voice say, and he turned around to fall in love with you all over again. 

Your smile was big when you looked at his face, and you opened your mouth to start talking, but Namjoon was set on making this night special from beginning to end. After all, he didn’t let you in on his plans for a reason. He wanted to see the desire and lust in your eyes when you realized his idea. Another thing he was curious about. 

“Hello, stranger,” he started, offering his hand. When you accepted it, he took it to his lips, planting a sweet kiss there. “I must be pretty lucky to have such a beautiful face sit right next to me.” 

“Thank you…” you said. Your tone of voice gave away your confusion, bending at the end, making it sound like a question. Namjoon guessed you were trying to understand his strange behavior.

“Does your pretty face come with a name?” he continued. He was amused by the many emotions running through your face, but he hadn’t quite reached the one he wanted to see the most yet.

“What?” you asked.

“Oh, no worries. I don’t mind a little mystery.” he leaned towards you and took a sip of his drink. “My name is Namjoon by the way. I hope I get to know you better this evening, angel.”

Jackpot. 

Your face lit up with understanding, and a sly smile adorned your face.

“You sound intriguing, Namjoon.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” he winked and was pleased when you bit your bottom lip. He made sure the bartender knew he’d pay for the drinks and made a move to leave. “I must leave now. But if you want to have the time of your life, here’s where to find me,” he said. 

He handed you a card with the name of a club and some cash for the Uber. “I’ll be waiting for you, angel. I know you won’t disappoint me.” he said, leaning closer to your face and inhaling the scent of your perfume. “Your name is on the list,” he whispered to your ear, before planting another kiss to your earlobe.

Arriving at the club was easy enough. The waiting for you to show up was almost a torture device. 

Did he do it right? Did you feel controlled, like he was dominating your decisions? Were you turned on by the idea? At the end, after he handed you the card, was the glint in your eyes just residue from the surprise? Or did you feel your stomach flutter, much like his own heart was beating out of his chest?

The possibilities were endless.

But it was like you had a neon sign pointed directly at you. He could see your face as you looked for him in the crowd. He took a sip of his drink. Should he go after you, or should he let you find him? He twitched in his seat, his leg bouncing. He must do something. 

But alas, there you were.

Eyes still filled with fascination. Your lips parted as you two made eye contact, and Namjoon watched you in awe. Shoulders back, and hips moving side to side, inviting him to glare, to stare, to inappropriately lick his lips. He watched every second of your hands as they ran through your body, touching all the places he knew you liked to be kissed. Your neck, your navel, the curve of your hips.

Dancing for him. A show just for him. Other people get to watch and envy him. But he’s the only one that can touch.

Intimacy be damned. He liked this fantasy better.

You curled your fingers, inviting him to dance. He didn’t have to think twice. 

He didn’t recognize himself. The Namjoon of yesterday wouldn’t do such a thing. Too timid to dance like this in public. To grab his partner by the waist and ogle at his favorite body parts. But you changed him. Reached his genetic makeup and twisted it to your liking.

He liked it too.

He didn’t last more than a song underneath your touch. Your hands ran upwards through his body, but before they could reach his neck and fist his hair, Namjoon was already kissing you. It was urgent, it was inappropriate, it was too damn sexual. He was sure he’d leave the club with a boner.

His tongue unceremoniously intertwined with yours, and his hands grabbed your ass with fervor. You weren’t so cute either. Namjoon remembered you were in a public setting when your hands reached the front of his pants.

He stopped your search, holding your wrists behind your back. 

“Not here, angel,” he said, panting.

“I know where,” you offered, twisting your wrists so you’d be hauling him around the club.

You reached the bathrooms, and you shoved him inside before a line could form behind you. Before he could ask about your intentions, you pushed him against the wall, kissing him again. He allowed himself to go further, biting your neck and leveraging his position to grind his groin against your abdomen.

“Fuck, I can’t take this,” you said, dropping to your knees and opening his zipper. 

His cock was already hard when you wrapped your mouth around him. He moaned your name repeatedly as you massaged his length in synchronicity with your lips. He moaned even louder when his tip reached the back of your throat. Your gag reflex made your throat even tighter, and he wanted to scream your name.

But of course you had to surprise him, using his length to slap your face and tongue, and putting pressure around his base. And that was enough for him to be overwhelmed by his instincts. He grabbed a chunk of your hair with one hand and secured your jaw open with the other, inserting himself in and out as he pleased.

He thrusted his hips once more, as far as your mouth would allow. He wanted to feel your throat closing around his tip again. He only let you up for air after you tapped his thigh. But he wasn’t done being rough. The trail of saliva left between his dick and your tongue inspired him even further. 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice almost an octave lower, and you obliged with a smile. He spit on your tongue before placing his testicles inside your mouth. Between the warmth of your tongue and his agile hands, he was close. “Fuck,” he moaned, inserting his dick in your mouth one last time before climax overpowered him. “I want to see you swallow it,” he asserted, already adjusting his pants.

You did as he asked and opened your mouth showing your tongue to prove it. Your smile was as big as he’d ever seen. If he knew you’d be this wild, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to comply with your wishes.

“Good,” he said, taking a deep breath and helping you get to your feet.

Before you could say anything, or even better, go home to finish the night, there was a banging on the bathroom door.

When Namjoon opened it, he was met with a security guard, followed by an irritated manager.

“Oh, goody,” the manager said, taking a look around Namjoon to find you hiding behind him.

“Would you two please step aside? The bathroom is off limits from certain activities. I’m gonna have to escort you out of the premises.”

“Sure, that’s no problem.” Namjoon didn’t turn around to look at you. He just squeezed your hand as you two walked out of the club, but he knew your whole body was burning from embarrassment. “Well, there’s a story to tell our grandkids,” he joked once you two were on a cab headed home.

“If you tell them any of this, I will slowly poison you,” you threatened. “But I do need to tell them how amazing you are in all aspects,” you gushed, hugging his neck. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime, angel.”

#bts x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #bangtanbathhouse #btsafterdarknet

[froggibus]

Just The Three Of Us - Cassidy x Reader x Genji

Pairing: Genji Shimada x F!reader x Cole Cassidy

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: after finding out you’re a virgin, Cassidy and Genji set out to change that

CW: porn w plot, virgin! reader, threesome, Blackwatch! Genji, Blackwatch! Cassidy, oral (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), fingering, nipple play, multiple creampies, unprotected sex (make good choices lol), face fucking, overstimulation, cum stuffing, marking (??), slight dubcon??, alcohol use

happy 69 guys!! this was originally gonna be a dom! Widow w predator/prey vibes but i honestly couldn’t finish writing it lmao. i like this one a lot better tho and what could be better than the blackwatch sandwich? hope you guys enjoy <3

————

“Oh, c’mon,” you take a sip of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat. “You guys really think you have more game than me?”

Genji shakes his head and laughs, leaning across the bar table that the three of you are sitting at. The bar isn’t busy, but that’s to be expected of a Sunday night. Aside from a few older men and some rowdy college kids, you, Cass and Genji are the only ones in there. 

Cassidy stretches his arms across the top of the booth, his hand falling just above your shoulder. “Hey, I got game!”

“You grew up with Reyes in an Overwatch facility—you’re practically a shut in.”

The cowboy rolls his eyes, feigning offence at your comment. He adjusts his arms, fingertips brushing your arms. You shiver under his touch, electricity coursing through you. 

“And me?” Genji asks, dark eyes meeting yours. There’s a glint of mischief behind them that makes your heart beat faster. 

“You…” You narrow your eyes at him as if deep in thought, “I could see you having game back in the day.”

“But not now?”

You take another sip of your drink. “Nope.”

Cassidy laughs, “well you ain’t got much game either, y/n. I can’t remember the last time you brought someone home with you.”

You glare at the cowboy, only turning your gaze away when Genji says: “he has a point.”

“If I wanted to take someone home with me, I would.”

“I’m sensing a but,” Genji says. 

“I don’t think you sense any butts.”

Cassidy howls in laughter, slapping his hands on the table. Genji rolls his eyes at you and takes a sip of his sake. 

“I have my eyes on someone,” you shrug. 

More like someones. The truth is, you haven’t had any time to date, much less have sex. And when you were given the time, there were a few coworkers who you couldn’t stop thinking about. Specifically the ones in front of you. Still, you’d never admit it. If Cassidy found out you had never had sex, you would never hear the end of it. 

Cass leans closer, whiskey on his breath. He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Oh yeah? And who might that be?”

“None of your business,” you shrug him off. 

A waitress comes by and asks if you want another round of drinks. You order your usual, tapping your fingers on the table to the beat of an old rock song playing over the bar speakers. 

You can’t help but notice the way Cassidy’s eyes fix on the sway of her hips as she walks away. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight. 

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. “I bet you couldn’t get a girl in bed tonight if you tried.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve gotten plenty of women in my bed.”

Genji laughs, “yeah? Have you kept track?”

“Nine.”

You fake gag at the cowboy’s words. Typical men keeping track of their scores. Your eyes meet Genji’s and a burning question forms in your mind. “What about you?”

“When I was younger? Too many,” he admits. 

You try not to let the bitter taste of disappointment seep into your mouth. Of course they’ve both had sex with other people, you’re the weird one for being an adult virgin. 

“Not so snarky now, are we?” Cass teases, “are you counting them in your head right now?”

You’re no longer in a joking mood, standing up and slipping on your jacket. “I’m tired, I’m gonna head back to the hotel. I’ll talk to you guys in the morning, ‘kay?”

You don’t let them speak before grabbing your purse and heading out of the bar door. It’s cold outside, but the alcohol in your veins makes it seem much warmer. There’s a slight drizzle, the cold rain running down your cheeks and nose. 

Luckily, the hotel you’re all staying at is right across the street. It was almost tradition for the three of you to stick around one extra night after a Blackwatch mission, getting drinks and sightseeing before you have to go back to work. It’s kept you sane all these years, but it’s only fueled the feelings you’ve harboured to the other agents. 

You step into your hotel room and immediately drop your purse to the floor and slam your keycard onto the dresser. Your feet ache when you take them out of your shoes, and you’re all too happy to lay in your bed and watch television. 

You browse for something to watch, anything to take your mind off of the aching in your chest and the bitterness on your tongue. You decide on an old movie about fighter pilots, something Reyes probably would have made you watch. 

You change out of your day clothes, pulling your phone out of your pocket and setting it on your night stand. You exchange your tight pants for pyjama ones and your shirt for a baggy Overwatch shirt that got mixed up in your laundry ages ago. 

You settle into bed, watching the movie and ignoring your phone lighting up every few minutes. 

—

Genji sighs when he calls you for the fifth time, slamming his phone down on the table. “Still no answer.”

“I must’ve really struck a nerve,” Cass says bitterly. “I don't even know why.”

“We’re thinking about this all wrong. Y/n got upset when we brought up past partners so…she’s either ashamed of hers or—“

Cassidy finishes his thought with wide eyes, “or she’s never had any.”

Suddenly everything clicks into place. The overcompensating, the snark to your tone as soon as the subject was brought up. You’d never introduced a partner to them, you’ve never even brought someone to the Overwatch holiday party. 

Genji feels stupid for never realising it before. 

But with their realisation of your lack of partners came another one.  The way you subtly glanced at Genji when you said you had your eyes on someone. Was he the reason? 

“I-I need to go talk to her,” Genji is on his feet before he’s finished speaking, pulling his hoodie over his shoulders. 

“Woah, slow down there. Don’t you mean we need to go talk to her?”

“I think,” he takes a deep breath, “I think she was talking about me when she said she has her eyes on someone.”

Cassidy laughs. “That saké of yours must have really gone to your head. She clearly meant me when she said it.”

It’s the ninja’s turn to stare in disbelief. Classic Cassidy, he thinks, to assume every woman in the world loves him. Still, he can’t help but wonder if he’s imagining it all. If the alcohol really has gone to his head and amplified the feelings he harbours for you, turning it into something it’s not. 

“Okay,” Genji keeps his tone even. “We’ll both go.”

“Okay.”

Despite their words agreeing, their views don’t, and everyone in the bar can feel the tension between them. Even while they walk across the street, frustration radiates around them. 

Cassidy is the one who knocks on your door, gently shoving Genji out of the way so that he’s centred in the doorframe. Genji sighs at his colleague’s antics, nudging him ever so slightly so that he’s standing by his side. 

You open the door in your pyjamas, raising an eyebrow at the pair. “Can I help you?”

“Y/n—,” Genji’s voice is gentle. 

“We know you’re a virgin.”

Genji steps on the cowboys steel toes, punishing him for his brazenness. Your eyes widen at his words and you find yourself taking a step back from them. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, y/n,” Genji steps into your hotel room, shoving past Cassidy. 

“I-I’m not ashamed,” your face is burning. 

Cassidy steps in next to Genji, letting the door close behind him. “Then why’s your face so red, hm?”

“It’s just—really hot here and I’m tired and you guys should go!”

Genji places a hand on your waist. “Y/n, it’s just us, you don’t have to be afraid.”

“That’s exactly why I’m afraid.”

They speak at the same time, “because you like me?”

You’re practically on fire now. Your head is spinning so fast you can’t tell what way is up, and you’re sure your knees will buckle at any moment. You blink a few times, shrinking under their gazes. Your heart speeds up and suddenly you’re pitching forwards. 

“Woah, cowgirl!” 

Genji, quick as always, moves his arm around your waist and catches you before you can even fall. He snakes his other arm under your legs and carries you to the bed, sitting you at the edge. 

You put your head in your hands. “I never wanted you guys to find out.”

“It’s okay to feel this way,” Genji pulls a hand from your face. 

Cassidy copies the cyborg but his touch is far less gentle. “We’re not gonna judge you.”

“It’s not!” You take a deep breath, almost choking on your words, “it’s not right for me to want both of you.”

Silence falls over the room. You sit there and wallow in your shame, too scared to breathe too deeply or move your hands out of theirs. You just want them to forget you’re there for a while. 

Genji glances at Cassidy over your head. The cowboy cocks an eyebrow and smirks slightly, and the cyborg blushes at what he knows he’s thinking. 

Cassidy’s metal hand moves from your hand to your jaw, tilting your head so that you’re forced to look at him. 

“What are you—,”

You’re cut off when his warm lips smash against yours. His touch immediately rekindles the fire inside of you, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He pulls away with a smirk, leaving you breathless. 

You don’t have time to properly process the kiss before Genji’s hand is on the back of your neck, turning your head to him and guiding your face towards his. He leans in, pressing his soft lips to yours. You melt into his touch, burning up beneath his fingers. 

You’re left wide eyed and gasping for air when he pulls away. “I don’t…I don’t understand…”

“Sh,” Cassidy places a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down, “let us take care of you, okay?”

“But—,”

Genji shuts you up by pressing his lips to yours again, slipping his tongue into yours this time. You don’t fight back, desperate to have him. You can taste the alcohol on his breath but it only makes you want more. His hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, pushing you closer to him. 

Cassidy moves his hand farther up your thigh, brushing his knuckles against your throbbing core. You clench your legs around his hand, desperate for any sort of friction. 

“So needy,” he teases, moving his hand beneath the hem of your shirt. “Be patient, darling.”

You whine against Genji’s mouth, making the cyborg pull away. He gives you a lopsided grin, his cheeks just as pink as yours surely are. 

Cassidy tugs your shirt over your head, grinning when he sees you’re not in a bra. You expect him to make a comment, but he’s too busy staring at your bare chest. You glance at Genji only to realize he’s doing the same. Their eyes on you makes you self conscious and you find yourself moving to cover up. 

Cassidy catches your wrists in his hands. “Not so fast,” he tuts, and moves in to kiss you. 

You relax against him but only for a second before you feel Genji’s lips on your neck. His touch is gentle but with just enough pressure to make you whine and sent electricity down to your core. His teeth graze your collarbone and you moan into Cassidy’s mouth. 

The cyborg smiles against your skin, dead set on making you moan again. He kisses down your chest, kissing around your nipple before finally attaching his lips to it. 

You squirm, arching your back and moaning against Cassidy’s mouth. “G-genji,” a trail of saliva leaks from the side of your mouth as Cass pulls away. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles into your tit, teeth grazing your nipple as he speaks. 

You whimper, grinding your hips against the bed. Cassidy knows just what you need, and slips his knee between your legs before moving his lips to your other tit. 

You cry out at his added touch, grinding your wet pussy against Cassidy’s thigh. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “She’s so wet I can feel it through my jeans.”

Genji looks up at you, letting your nipple fall from his mouth. “You like this, baby?”

You can only nod, both boys chuckling at your dishevelled state. They can’t help but admire how cute you look with your rosy cheeks and messy hair and the drool around your mouth. 

Genji moves up to kiss you again while Cass slips down your pants. He’s pleased when he sees how soaked your panties are and quickly tugs them off of your legs. Your bare, glistening pussy greets him and he moans at the sight. 

So tight, it’s not hard to remember that no one’s ever touched you before. He rubs one of his fingers up your slit, poking your clit ever so slightly. You immediately react to his touch, whining and thrusting your hips forwards. More juices gush from you. 

“God, she’s so wet Gen,” he moans. “You gotta take a look at this.”

The ninja pulls back, staring at your perfect little pussy with his jaw dropped. His jeans suddenly feel too tight and all he wants is to bury his length inside of you.

Cassidy rubs his thumb across your clit. “Does that feel good, darling?”

You bite your lip and throw your head back, nodding furiously. Genji lays next to you, wrapping an arm around your thigh to pull it apart from your other one and open them up for the cowboy. His lips connect with your neck once more. 

Cassidy dips a finger into your dripping pussy, sinking right in. He groans at how well you take him, and slowly moves it in and out of you. He moves his other hand to play with your clit, pinching and twisting it in tune with your whines. 

He slips another finger in, stretching you out around him. He pushes them all the way up to the hilt, curling them inside of you. You whine, arching your back and trying to close your legs around his hand to get more, but Genji’s grip is too tight. 

“Patience,” he mumbles into your neck. 

You can feel his hard cock rubbing against your hip, the cyborg desperate for more friction. You rub your hand up his thigh and over the bulge, shuddering at how hard it feels. 

Genji shivers under your touch, opening his mouth to ask what you’re doing and closing it as soon as you unzip his pants. He helps you tug them down until they pool around his ankles. 

Your mouth practically waters at the outline of his cock through his boxers and you reach up to trace your fingers across it. Genji whines, propping himself up on his knees to give you better access. 

You slip your hand into his waistband and grip his length, slowly dragging your hand up and down his dick. He thrusts against your hand, desperate for more. You tug his boxers all of the way down, letting his cock spring free. It looks a lot bigger than it did in his pants, and the sight makes you clench your thighs. 

You spit into your hand and rub your saliva up his shaft, getting him nice and wet so you can rub your hand up and down it. Genji is mesmerised by you jerking him off, and he wants more. 

You wet your lips, getting ready to take him into your mouth. Before you can, you feel Cass start to suck on your clit while he adds an extra finger. You moan loudly, Genji taking this as an opportunity to push his cock into your mouth. 

His salty taste overwhelms you and you find yourself pushing your head down to take more. He wraps his fingers in your hair and holds it back, using it to guide you up and down. 

Cass continues his assault on your pussy, lapping the juices that gush from your hole with every thrust of his fingers. Your poor, swollen clit being sucked and licked at with no end in sight. 

You moan around Genji’s length, forcing yourself to take more of him. The cyborg can’t help but thrust into your mouth, forcing even more of his cock into your throat. You gag around it and the sounds make him moan even more. 

There’s a knot building in your stomach and you know you won’t last much longer. You grind your pussy against Cassidy’s face, desperate for more. The cowboy gladly gives it to you—fucking his fingers into you even faster than before. 

Your whines grow more and more desperate, drool leaking out at the space between Genji’s cock and your mouth. The cyborg watches as it drips down your chin and onto the peaks of your tits and wishes it was his cum coating you instead. 

Cassidy curls his fingers inside of you and you come undone. Your body tenses, your eyes roll back. Genji let’s his cock fall from your mouth, watching you with loving eyes as you cum on Cassidy’s face. 

Cassidy takes every drop of cum that you give him, lapping up your juices as they coat his chin and lips. He pulls back with a smirk, moving in to kiss you. You whine at the taste of yourself on his lips. 

“Now that you’re nice and stretched out,” he says, “why don’t you let Genji fuck that sweet pussy?”

You nod vigorously, your pussy already drenched at the thought. Genji shifts so he’s kneeling between your thighs, the head of his cock rubbing against your clit. His length is already glistening with your spit, but he collects your juices on his cock just in case. 

Genji locks eyes with you. “Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He sinks the head of his cock inside of you, and the stretch makes you whine. It’s slightly painful but the fullness it brings is the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

You tug Cassidy in for another kiss, using his lips to distract yourself from the sting of Genji’s cock bottoming out inside of you. He stays still once he’s all the way inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. 

You pull away from Cass to whimper a quick, “move, please.”

Genji can do nothing but oblige. He slowly pulls out before pushing back into you slowly, trying to keep his pace gentle and even while you get used to it. You can feel the throbbing of his cock inside of you and it only makes you whine and thrust your hips against him. 

You’re so distracted with Genji that you don’t even notice that Cass has discarded his pants and has his hard cock in your face.

 He rubs his cock head across your lips, “how’s about putting that pretty little mouth of yours to good use?”

His cock is thicker than Genji’s, and you’re worried that you won’t be able to take it all. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, letting him slowly push his cock into your mouth. He has more of a taste than Genji and you find yourself savouring it. 

Genji picks up the pace as if to remind you that he’s still there, smashing his hips against yours with every thrust. You suck harder on Cassidy’s cock, your moans catching in your throat and vibrating against his length. You can tell he’s holding back, but you don’t know why. 

Genji flicks his thumb across your clit, and your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy clenches around his cock and he’s sent over the edge with you, your tight pussy milking his cock for all its worth. You can’t help but whine at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you, filling you up all the way. 

He pulls out at the same time as Cassidy, forcing a gasp from your lips. Cum pools between your legs, dripping down your thighs and Genji’s cock. 

“How was that?” Genji asks. 

“S-so good.”

You can barely speak, the overstimulation washing over you in waves and practically drowning you. Genji laughs at the fucked out expression on your face, laying down next to you and pulling you so your back is on his chest. 

You don’t realize what’s happening until Cassidy is between your legs. “Think you can do one more?” 

You nod, the idea of being fucked full of both of their cum too good to pass up. 

Genji kisses your cheek, “that’s our girl.”

Cassidy pushes inside of you slowly, your saliva and Genji’s cum acting as a lubricant. The stretch stings slightly, but it goes away quickly. Cassidy bottoms out inside of you quickly, making you cry out when the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix. 

“C-Cass!”

He pulls out and slams back inside of you, making you squeal at the friction. Genji plants kisses up your neck and shoulders to calm you down, his fingers working at your nipples. 

Cassidy leans against you, pushing your thighs up against your tummy in a mating press. He’s desperate, fucking into you so fast and so hard you can barely keep track. Your head is dizzy from your orgasms and everything is so hot and so sensitive. 

With the way the cowboy is fucking you like you’re his last and the way Genji is toying with your nipples, you know you won’t last much longer. Based on the way Cassidy’s cock is twitching instead of you, you know he won’t either. 

Genji pinches your nipples and Cassidy slams his hips against yours again and you come undone. Tears leak from your eyes as your pussy gushes out around his cock, your whole body spasming. Genji holds you tightly through your orgasm, rubbing your shoulders and whispering reassurance in your ear. 

Cassidy cums right after you do, thrusting into you one last time to get his cock as deep as possible. Hot cum floods inside of you, mixing with Genji’s and filling you up completely. He continues fucking into you through your orgasm, waiting to pull out until all of his cum has been fucked into you. 

When he pulls out, their cum gushes out of you, dripping down your thighs. He gathers it on his finger and pushing it back inside of you, laughing at the way you squirm from his touch. 

He pulls his finger out and slips it into your mouth, letting you suck off the mixture of your cum, his cum and Genji’s cum. The taste barely registers, your senses dull in your fucked out state. 

Cassidy plants a kiss to your forehead, smoothing your sweaty hair back. “Such a good girl.”

“Our good girl,” Genji adds. 

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #overwatch smut #cole cassidy x you #cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader #genji shimada #genji shimada x reader #genji shimada x You #cassidy smut #genji smut #genji shimada smut #cole cassidy smut #blackwatch

[ellaa-writes]

Do you mind making a fanfic where König slowly falls in love with the reader that's the team medic. And can it be smut towards the end that's more vanilla than rough?

Hiii! Thank you for the request. Also sent back in November. I always get carried away with these. CW; alcohol consumption but over all its very tame and a little fluffy :)

Working for Kortac wasn't always easy but it sure was awarding. Being the team medic/doctor had its perks. You mostly worked on base, or different outposts. You rarely experienced field work, but you weren't completely useless. The rest of the team wouldn't allow it, specially the Colonel.

You train with them, eat with them, shower with them, cause you are one of them.

As well as going out after a successful mission, when everyone is preparing for there leave. A nice hooray before a break.

You've been with Kortac for little over a year now, you made friendships with almost everyone. The Lifesaver they call you, out of respect and also taking the piss. Getting a nickname meant you were really family.

You don't talk about your personal life, no one does and no one asks questions. But it's not like you want to talk about your failures and joining the military was you lose ditch effort to pursue your dreams. Working in the hospital wasn't ideal anymore, the mundane day after day was draining you. And your tremors destroyed your opportunity to your goal as a board certified surgeon.

Wearing your civvy clothes, nothing special. Your favorite pair of jeans, a simple top and chunky boots. It's a tad chilly so you threw a warm leather jacket over it to tie it all in. Taking a cab with Roze to the local bar. Chatting about plans and wants. Roze using her leave to go climb a mountain. Telling her you wish you had her ambition and discipline. And her telling you that she could teach you some time.

The cab stopped in front of the bar, a fairly busy night. A small group of people were gathered around chatting and smoking cigarettes. Some of them you recognize as your teammates, and the Colonel. He made you dizzy, every time your eyes find him every cell in your body buzzes. Like flies to a street lamp.

Like a million butterflies in your tummy, beating against the inside tying to break out. You waving back to the ones that waved to you, making your way into the bustling bar. Leading the way to the bar, Roze close behind.

"We should find a both, I'm not being stuck at a fucking table." Roze gritted into your ear, remembering the last time you two went out with the boys. "Go find one I'll order our drinks. The usual?" you offered. She gave you a big smile and squeeze to your upper arm. "You are a doll, do you know that?" she yelled as she made her way through the crowd.

You finally flagged down the busy bartender, ordering Roze her vodka soda and your old fashion. Looking out into the crowd trying to find the others. Spotting them at a big booth in the back, a big screen rght above playing some sort of football game.

With a loud clink the bartender dropped the drinks in front, snatching the change out of your hand before turning away to help another. Carefully making your way through the crowd to the others, watching has Roze and Hutch lively convo. Setting the drink down before sliding it over to Roze who mouthed a silent thank you to you.

You slid into the other end of the both the faced out towards the bar, right up to a very tired looking Oni who looked unintereseted in whatever Horangi was saying. "What's up cool cat." he cooed to you, his big arm snaking around to give you a tight hug. "Getting drunk." you cheered raising your drink, the two cheering in agreement as they clinked their glass against eachother.

"Room for one more?" his thick deep accent purred for behind you. Colonel König sliding in beside you, taking up the rest of the both. Causing you to shift over to Oni to your right. "You smell like shit." Horangi exclaimed, raising his glass towards König. Causing the giant to bark with laughter, raising his pint towards the Korean. Causing some to slosh to the side and drip in front of you.

Indistinctively making you jump back to not get any of the stinky lager to get on you. "Sorry about the doll." his rumbling voice reached your ears. Making you blush and say "It's all good sir." taking a big gulp of your drink. Shrinking back as the others talked, stopping once in a while to include you.

König's leg brushing up against yours every now and than. If you were any the wiser you'd think he was doing it on purpose. Downing the last of your drink you plopped it on the solid table with a clank. König eyeing the empty glass while he finished his own. Kindly taking it with him as he went to get another fill.

Roze gave you an odd look from across the table, you just shrugged it off. She's been trying to convince you that the Austrian has been pinning for you. You brush it off as him being kind, but he's never that kind. Small things like bringing you things he found that reminded you of him. Small like trinkets and tchotchkes, either hand delivering them himself or leaving at your door.

Always being the first on the team, even before the muscle. Having first pick over any new recruits, a small luxury. Like you said, he's just kind. And very straight forward and to the point. A confident and cocky man, that knows what he wants and always gets it. And it's definitely not you.

It wasn't long until the Colonel returned with his drink and yours, setting down a colorful fruity drink in front of you. Causing a laugh from the others, but you just blinked at it. "I think this is yours." as you shifted it across the table to Hutch. Who gladly took the free drink cause booze is booze baby. "Aw Koni pal, you shouldn't have." he nearly had it to his lips before König thick hand grabbing Hutch's wrist, giving it a light squeeze before saying "It's not yours." in his husky accent. Bringing it back to you, holding it out. "Do you not like?" he asked curiously.

You weren't sure what was happening, was this some joke that you just didn't understand. "No." you said flatly, eyeing Roze for some help but she just eagerly gulped down her own ignoring you. "Can you excuse me." as you brushed passed the giant now looking at the drink in confusion.

Going to the bar you ordered two shots of the strongest liquor they had. Taking them down like a champ you asked for another old fashion. Feeling a warm hard body brush up next to you, seeing the Colonel standing beside you with that stupid drink still in his hand.

"I'm sorry Katze, I thought you would like." he started to explain. The bartender interrupting to give you your whiskey, taking a quick sip before König moved the drink so it was next to you. "It reminds me of you, that's all." he finished. You snorted into your glass and nearly choked on the smooth amber. Huffing out a coughing laugh.

"I'm sorry sir, but how does that remind you of me?" you giggled, finally feeling the alcohol settle into your worn bones.

"It's colorful like you." he said confidently and also confused at how you dont see it. "I'm colorful?" you asked, taking the drink from his hand. Your fingers lightly brushing against his, bringing the liquid to your nose before downing the whole thing in one try. And setting it back into his hand that remained in place.

König eyes widened at your bold display, a fire burning into them as he watched you lips grip the rim of the curved glass. The way your necked bobbed as you swallowed the sweet liquid. The fire burning a path straight to his pants. Feeling himself grow to life and strain against the front zipper.

"It's nice to see you like this sir." you blurted out and immediately regretting it. Ok, last drink and your leaving, you scolded yourself. "What do you mean?" his curosity peeked. You waved his answer away, getting embarssed by your loose lips. "Dont get shy on me now." he pushed. Moving hs big body into yours more, pining you to the bar stool.

"It's just, your so human." you whispered. A little nervous to his reacton, but instead he leaned his head back and barked out a laugh. Causing people around to jump at the sudden loud sound. A few moving away from the big man.

"That was a good one Katze." he leaned further down to your face. "I like seeing you like this." his hand slowly running from your wrist to your neck, holding it in place. "Like what sir?" you mummured, eyeing his lips as they moved closer to your own. "Flustered." he breathed into your mouth, closing the gap and kissing you deeply. His hand moving to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your lungs seizing to produce air as you felt his soft lips move against yours.

He pulled away slowly, moving his hand to your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your lungs screamed, finally sucking in a deep breath. You could feel the heat rise to your face, you must look like a tomato right now.

"So damn cute." he continued, looking away from you to your abandoned drink at the bar. "Are you done?" he questioned. You were buzzing, almost right out of your skin. So light headed all you could do his shake your head yes. König took that as his sign to make a move, so he lead you out of the bar into the cold night.

"This way doll." as he pulled you to the direction of the quiet street, you could spot the bmw shining under the moon light. "I'll drive us back." he reached the passenger door, holding it open for you as you climbed in. Closing it softly as he jogged to the drivers side, climbing in and the car roared to life.

The drive back to the base passed in a flash, König nearly dragging you through the building towards his own room. His high status warrants his own private quarters. A small living and dining area, followed by his bedroom and attached bathroom. He unlocked the door with haste and pulled you in. Spinning you around so you were pushed against the back of the door.

His strong body on yours, you heard the click of the lock slide into place. König lips once again on yours, nipping and sucking. Making a trail down your neck, pulling the zipper of your jacket down and off your arms. Tossing it towards his table, his hands finding your ass and hauling you up. You legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, tugging him into your core more. Earning a low moan, vibrating from his chest.

He yanked at the collar of your shirt, a clean tear running down the front exposing your breast to his mouth. Pulling a yelp from you as he nipped at the sensitive skin. He turned you both around and towards his room, kicking the door open and dropping you on the bed.

"Sir-" you tried to let out but König's lips swallowed your words. "Shhh, baby. Let me make you feel good. Ja." he whispered into your mouth, making you melt into the bed. All you could do was shake your head has you fully leaned back, closing your eyes.

König made good with your clothes, leaving you only in your panties. You watched has he removed his shirt and shoved his jean and brief's to the floor, kicking them away as he climbed back on and slotted himself between your thighs.

Pining your spread knees to your stomach, rubbing his face against your clothed core. His big nose carding its self along your slit, building pressure against your clit. Pulling moans from you, throwing your head back.

König took his time, running his face up and down your thighs. Kissing from your ankle to your inner thigh, over your soaking core, and down the other leg. Licking path across your skin and blowing on the wetness, goosebumps spreading across your body.

Pulling your hard buds into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and sucking. His teeth grazing on the sensitive nipple and lightly nipping. Relishing in the noises hes drawing from you. Humming in approval, slowly pulling down your panties and letting them get lost on the bed.

His fingers find your center, the thick heavy digits ghosting up and down. Gathering the wetness that pushed through, pressing his wide thumb right against your clit. Making you buck into his hand more, König's mouth still on your tits.

He worked his thick middle finger into you, slowly opening you for him. Working knuckle by knuckle, whispering praises into your ear. Pushing another finger into you, making you whimper at the stretch.

"Ko, please." you pleaded with him, feeling his low chuckle. His hot mouth against your ear, cooing "Patience love." as his fingers pump in and out of you. Feeling your slick slide down your ass and onto the sheets.

Whining at the loss of his fingers, but feeling the head of his dick running up and down. Collecting your wetness and spreading it over him before the tip catches you needy hole. Snapping his hips fowards ripped a cry from your throat. Your legs clamping around him and tightening.

"Shh, shhh. Quiet now pretty girl. I'm sorry, I'll be more carefully." and he kept true to his word. His cock slowly stretching you open, your warm folds inviting him in. Squeezing and pulsing around him, König cherished every moment.

Sensually thrusting in and out, lazily rolling his hips. Making sure he pulls orgasm after orgasm from your body.

Not stopping until your begging and pleading with him. Incoherently going on about it being too much, too sensitive.

König could lose himself in you, deeper and deeper. Holding back to not scare you. Wanting to make it all about his sweet little medic. The moment he laid eyes on you he was hooked. Those sweet eyes and kind smile, how quick and smart you were. Such a soft thing, you shouldn't be in this line of field.

Finally letting himself go, he buried himself deeper. Releasing pressed right up against your cervix, shoveling as much as he could to your core. Letting out one last guttural moan as he collapsed onto you, only rolling over when you started banging against his back. Taking you with you, you settled on his chest.

König laid out completely satisfied, head back and eyes closed. He could feel you staring at him.

"Sleep" he commanded. Hearing your giggle as you continued to stare.

#cod mw2 #könig #konig #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #cod könig #cod konig #könig x fem reader

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

Seven: Sirius

Sleeper Car

Somewhere Just Outside of Athens

“I speak ten languages.”

They hadn’t spoken much since entering their small sleeper car. Remus was wary of him. Sirius could feel the lack of trust rolling off of him in waves. He had taken a seat in the window nook and mostly watched the world go by until the sun went down. It left Sirius—not wanting to crowd him—to lay down on the bottom bunk. He figured Remus would want the better vantage point. He always had before. Some time after James had come around knocking with sandwiches, Remus had climbed up to his own top bunk and finally asked his first question.

“Ten sounds right,” Sirius replied.

“Do you, too?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. He had to clear his throat to make the words come out clearer. Remus had startled him. He’d been near asking Remus something himself so many times, but he wasn’t sure where to start. Are you okay? Were you hurt? Where were you? Did someone help you?

Sirius could feel Remus thinking. He heard the mattress shift from above him. He couldn’t see the bed’s slates or anything. No springs. Each bunk felt like a small sleigh. The wood was carved in a soft-edge curling boarder that Sirius was sure he was going to forget about and hit his head on.

“I’d say your Greek is better than mine, though,” Sirius said.

That night getting gin drunk at the café. Watching Remus converse easily with the waiter, making him laugh straight from his belly and give them two rounds for free. Sirius loved to watch Remus talk to new people, no matter what language. Charm and joy came so easy to him. Sirius had always been too busy sizing up strangers like opponents. Like a threat.

It was easier when it was just him and Remus. Him and James. Him and himself.

He could have sat by the water with Remus forever, joking about diving in.

He had already known Remus was worried about something. Them. I wonder about them. He should have tried harder to break through while they were both weakened by wine and each other. Relaxed and happy. Instead, Sirius had been distracted. Remus in the moonlight, Remus, tilting the wine bottle to his lips as they sat by the sea.

“Come on. We have all night, don’t give out on me, Black.” He’d been laughing as Sirius pushed the bottle away.

“Not if we’re going swimming.” And Sirius had really wanted to go swimming. He’d wanted Remus’ pale back in the moon and a chance—maybe there would be a chance to kiss him.

Sirius got up from the bunk, avoiding hitting his head, and went to sit in the window seat. He could feel the world’s winter air through the glass. He wasn’t going to sleep, and he couldn’t stand this silence from Remus, this wariness. He took out his knives, his guns, and began to check for rust. He couldn’t feel if Remus was watching him or not. Maybe he was sleeping, maybe he was listening. Maybe he was worrying, or even bleeding as he tried to remember something.

Sirius was trying so hard to merely focus on the gun parts in his hands that he didn’t even hear Remus until he was sliding into the booth across from him.

“Why are you the one I remember?” Remus asked.

That question was torture. Why, indeed.

Sirius’ heart thumped. “I don’t know. Your mind wants to remember your life. It’s fighting against whatever scrambled your memories—”

“Yes, but—” The breath Remus let out was frustrated and he stilled Sirius’ busy hands with his own. “Why is it you?” 

“I—I don’t know,” Sirius said, startled by the touch.

“You’re lying.”

Sirius shook his head. “Why would I lie? I…We’re—we work together, we spend lots of time together.”

“We kiss,” Remus said, and a faint buzzing started up in Sirius’ ears. “I dream about kissing you.”

That night, the last time they’d been in Greece. Sirius, we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. No, Sirius thought. They definitely did not kiss.

“We’re together,” Remus said. It was only half a question, like he was sure that Sirius would agree. He even had a brow arched, as if he was so sure Sirius was lying, as if he was so sure that they actually were together.

It took everything in Sirius to say, “No.”

What the hell was Remus doing, dreaming about kissing him like it was a memory?

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. His mouth opened and closed twice. “But…”

Sirius had nothing to say. Remus’ hand was still over his own, but it slipped away as he sat back in his seat, blinking hard down at the table.

“We work at Salazar,” he said. “Together.”

“Yes,” Sirius nodded.

“A mission went wrong—what did Leo say, six months ago.”

“Yes.”

“I was shot. And Logan.”

“Yes.”

“By Salazar?”

Sirius took a breath. Before Jack, he would have said no, by our targets in Greece. The only wrench was, they had never actually been told who exactly those targets were, and Sirius had spent most of the ride to the train station putting a possible two-and-two together:

Remus stopped trusting Salazar for some reason. Salazar found out and needed to get rid of him without suspicion.

Leo had agreed when he’d whispered it to him as they boarded a bus. What I want to know, Leo had said. Is if Logan knew what Remus knew, or if he just got caught in the crossfire.

“We thought it was a third party, but I think you…” Sirius hesitated. “Knew something. I think you, and maybe Logan, knew something that Salazar didn’t want you to know.” Sirius set the gun down and leaned forward. “What does the name Pascal mean to you?”

Remus shook his head. “Nothing.”

Sirius sighed. “Yeah.”

I dream about kissing you.

They went past a small village, close enough that Sirius could see glimpses of warm lights on in houses.

“Why take our memories? Why not just kill us?” Remus was looking at him in the reflection of the window. Their little cabin looked so perfect against the window’s foggy mirror. Soft and gentle and normal.

“They tried.” Sirius couldn’t meet his eyes when he said it, not even in the window. “Someone took your tracker out and saved you.” He put a hand on his own neck. “We had to cut ours out, too.”

“Saved me?”

“Yeah.”

“And it wasn’t you?”

Sirius shook his head, though Remus didn’t look like he entirely believed him.

“It wipes your memory, that’s the first defense mechanism. We’re thinking they could probably reverse that while the tracker was in place. Leo will be working on that, it’s his area. But…” Sirius rubbed his temple. Kissing kissing kissing. “There’s a kill switch, too. We got ours out in time, we’re thinking you and Lo got your memories wiped first. Then you wouldn’t’ve even know it was there, not to mention how to take it out of your neck. So someone else had to do it.”

“But if it’s out, how will we reverse it?” Remus asked.

For the first time, something other than that hard exterior flashed across Remus’ face. Fear. Sirius wanted to touch his hand again but he didn’t know how. Remus knew two things and one of them wasn’t even true: his own name, and Sirius’ face. A name was a name, but Sirius, apparently, was much less than he had thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said softly, looking at him directly. “I don’t know.”

Remus pressed his lips together, gaze jerking out the window again.

“We don’t know yet,” Sirius amended. “Leo is good. Leo is very good.”

“Says you,” Remus said in a cool tone. His eyes were still tight and worried, but he was trying to play it off. He looked down at Sirius’ gun. “I can put that back together in a couple seconds. Can you?”

Sirius didn’t even look down as his hands had the weapon reassembled before Remus had even drawn his next breath.

Remus nodded thoughtfully. He was still watching Sirius’ hands. The sound of laughter, a group of people, passed by their door and they both looked. Sirius couldn’t help the way his hand tightened around the gun. He’d never work that reflex out of his system.

“Just passengers,” Remus said. “Am I always this jumpy? Are we, I should say.”

“We are,” Sirius said. We, his mind caught on. “But that’s what keeps us alive.”

“Is it?”

Sirius made to point his gun and, before his wrist got more than an inch above the table, Remus’ hand was around it, vice-like. Sirius watched him stare at it. He watched the slow, half smile cross Remus’ face.

“I see.”

Remus let go slowly. Sirius wished he wouldn’t. He took up the gun. As Sirius watched, he took it apart again and then put it back together—easy.

“If only I could do that to myself,” Remus said.

“I would if I could.”

Remus nodded. He set the gun down between them. The train took a turn and they both leaned a little, looking back out the window—at each other’s reflections—as the hills turned with them.

“Are you sure we’ve never kissed?” Remus asked.

“I wouldn’t lie.” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Remus’ reflection looked at him. “Did we want to?”

That was a more complicated question. Want. There were years of history in that word. In the dormitories, shaking Remus’ hand for the first time. Helping each other in class—learning languages, picking each other’s pockets and trying to see if the other might notice. Pinning each other on the mat, catching each other with the stunning bullets in target practice. They had been named a team from the very beginning. Sirius, perhaps, had fallen in love not just with Remus, but with the idea of never having to leave his side.

Even still, it took everything in him to say, “Yes.”

#Christmas Eve Will Find Me lumosinlove #wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #spy au #we're off schedule but we're still getting there

[crappymixtape]

eyes half shut

hawkins high alumni always run the end of year carnival to help raise funds for the school and steve is always in charge of the alumni basketball game, but this year they’re trying out a kissing booth and who better to headline than steve harrington? | ( 3.9k – a little angst, a little fluff, kinda enemies to kinda lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

E Y E S H A L F S H U T 🎶 dream boy, savannah conley

“Now, please don’t be late, Steven. Jason’s done with his shift right at seven and we don’t want to keep people waiting.” Miss Click tapped on the clipboard in her hand before hanging it back up on the nail hammered into the wall of the booth, “Robin Buckley volunteered to cover the cash register for your shift too! You remember Robin.”

Steve felt his jaw tick with irritation as he tried to hide the grimace on his face, his old History teacher practically beaming at the very mention of his friend. Of course Robin volunteered to run the register. She just wanted a front row seat for what was sure to be the most humiliating night of his life.

“Great. Robin Buckley. A real grade A student,” he said with a forced smile, jamming his hands into the pockets of his Levi’s.

“I thought so too! Such an attentive pupil,” Miss Click agreed before checking her watch. “Oh dear, I need to go check on the cake walk. I’ll see you back here in a few hours, I’m sure we’ll have record donations!” and with that she was off across the football field leaving Steve alone in the small booth to freak out about what he’d just agreed to.

A kissing booth. Great. Perfect. Totally fine.

He definitely wasn’t sore about Tommy getting to run the alumni basketball game instead of him. Wasn’t stressing the fuck out about the idea of having to kiss people for an hour straight. Or worse, kiss no one at all and have to live under a rock for the rest of his life and he totally wasn't going to kill Robin for ‘graciously volunteering’ to take money at his expense.

Loosing a sigh from his chest Steve ran his hands through his hair and kicked at the frame of the wall, KISSING BOOTH written above him. All curly letters and lipstick marks and bright red paint, taunting and teasing him about what would be happening in a few short hours.

It was going to be fine. Totally fine. Steve Harrington could handle a few smooches for charity. Right?

Right?

Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you? You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two. I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you.

Joan Jett was yelling through the speakers of your stereo as you leaned over your dresser, swiping mascara through your lashes in the mirror, trying your best to hurry up and get ready for the Hawkins High Jamboree.

Did you want to go? Absolutely not.

Was your room mate and best friend making you go with her? 100%.

“So, like, are you gonna be ready this century or should I plan on arriving in a coffin? Actually. Steve’s gonna probably put me in one anyway, might be doing him a favor,” Robin mused around her toothbrush from across the hall in the bathroom.

“Hah, are you kidding? That guy came out of the womb as a fully formed show boat. He loves shit like this,” you shot back, shaking your head at the thought of Steve posted up at the kissing booth. A stupid, shit-eating grin pasted on his face. Signature hair all perfectly coiffed. A ridiculously long line of girls just waiting to fawn over him.

“Can’t argue you on the show boat bit, but he’s still totally gonna kill me,” Robin said snorting as she spat her toothpaste into the sink.

You weren’t sure what had happened between senior year and now, but somehow your best friend had also become Steve Harrington’s best friend and it made absolutely no sense.

At first you’d been extremely skeptical, even overprotective of her, and made it a point to tag along with them where ever they were going to make sure he wasn’t going to do something shitty, but much to your chagrin he proved you wrong every single time. He was even nice and somehow made Robin ugly laugh more than you did. How dare he?

“C’mon, I don’t wanna keep Nance waiting, she’s gonna be downstairs soon,” Robin popped her head in through your door and you shot her a grin.

“Ooo, eyeliner. Are you two going out after?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows at her and she frowned, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah. Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing!” you held your hands up in surrender and gave her a little smile, “Just–it’s about damn time. You two have been dancing around each other for months.”

Robin was pretty private about her love life, especially after things hadn’t worked out with Vickie, and you were one of the only ones who really got to be in the know. Well. You and Steve, but you had to hand it to him. He at least seemed pretty damn empathetic and supportive in that regard toward Robin and you were thankful to him for it.

“What, are you keeping track?” Robin grumbled, smoothing her shirt down a bit and picking at the chipped black polish on her nails.

“You’re the one with the scoreboard,” you gently teased back, shoving your feet into the Chucks next to your dresser, but then your expression softened as you looked up at her, “You know I’m not. I’d be one to talk anyway, my love life is non-existent.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you should try. It’s not all bad. Look at me, put myself out there and already have a date,” she said pointedly, scrunching up her nose at you.

“No, thanks,” it was your turn to grumble and you shouldered past her into the hallway.

“Wait. Wait a second. Yes. Yes, thanks!” she said, tone suddenly shifting into the one where you knew she was up to no good.

“Robs, whatever you’re about to say? Don’t,” you grabbed your wallet and chapstick off the kitchen table and turned to fix her with a look. The way she was grinning at you was horrifying. “Oh my god. What?”

“Kiss him,” she said simply and you looked at her blankly.

“What?”

“Put yourself out there! Kiss him!” she said again more enthusiastically and your stomach flipped over.

“Steve? Oh, wow. Let me go ahead and put a ‘hell’ in front of my no. No, Robs. No way,” you crammed your things into your pockets and shook your head, opening the fridge to try and find a beer. Booze suddenly felt very, extremely, necessary.

“Seriously! C’mon! What, are you chicken?” she make a little squawking noise as you cracked open the last beer hiding at the back of the fridge.

“Seriously?” you parroted back, “What, are you twelve? No, I’m not doing it.” You took a long drink from the can in your hand and grimaced as the carbonation fizzed in your nose. Too much.

“If you do, I’ll leave you alone for a whole week,” Robin’s tone was sing-songy, dragging out the vowels as she leaned on the open fridge door and smiled at you all sweetly. Full of mischief.

You waited, took another drink of beer and narrowed your eyes at her. She’d been begging you to go on a double date with her and Nancy and the thought of it made you want to throw up. Not only were double dates super cringy, but one: you didn’t have a boyfriend and two: Robin always suggested Steve and you’d immediately have to shut it down. He was absolutely not your type and there was no way you’d make it more than thirty minutes.

“Two weeks,” you countered, “And if you’re gonna hang out with him it can’t be here.”

“Deal!” she said much too quickly, sticking her hand out to you and you frowned, taking it and shaking it aggressively.

“Great. Deal.” It was just a kiss, right? Not stupid Seven Minutes in Heaven or Spin the Bottle, just cramming a dollar into a jar and a quick peck on the lips and you’d be free from Robin’s meddling for two whole weeks. Worth it.

Buzzzzz.

Someone was at the door, a Nancy Wheeler shaped someone, and the color drained from Robin’s face.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re fine, you look great,” you took another drink of your beer and then offered the last half of it to Robin who finished it off in one go.

“It’s not—“ Robin burped, beer was a bad choice, “—too much?”

“No, it’s not too much. The eyeliner is nice, really brings out the black in your heart. Now let’s get go,” you grabbed the empty can from her hand and tossed it in the recycling before shoving her toward the door.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna kiss Steve,” she said, grin tugging at the corners of her lips and your expression soured.

“Oh my god, just go,” and despite your grumbling, despite insisting on your irritation, all you could think about the entire ride over was a sliver of a memory from last summer.

It was smack in the middle of July. Sun beating down with the intent to fry you alive.

Robin had practically begged you to go get ice cream and it wasn’t like you were gonna say no. It was hotter than hell out, of course you were gonna get ice cream, but then Steve tagged along. Sat across from you in the booth and ordered a strawberry milkshake. Wrapped his perfectly pouted lips around the straw and sipped it slowly. Licked whipped cream from his fingers. Ate the cherry last and looked up at you when he’d pulled it from the stem with his teeth and for a split second all you could think about was him.

What it would taste like. What it would feel like.

What it would be like to kiss Steve Harrington.

“Bye now,” Jason was smiling all saccharine sweet. Pure sugar. Too much and too fake as the girl he’d just kissed slowly backed away from him. Unable to pull her eyes away as he leaned against the frame of the booth effortless and on display for the girls waiting in line, all of them disappointed they hadn’t beat the clock to seven.

And as Steve walked across the field to take Jason’s spot, he audibly groaned watching the other boy soak it all up.

Fuck this. He was not excited, he was not looking forward to this, and he did not want to stand anywhere near a damn kissing booth. Roughing his hands over his face he sucked in a deep breath. It was only an hour. Sixty minutes. It would fly by.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the King!”

Yeah, no. This was going to suck.

“Haven’t used that since Junior year, Carver,” Steve’s voice was flat, unamused, and when he walked up on the line a few of the girls huddled up and started to whisper.

“Ah, c’mon, Harrington. Return of the king! Back on top!” the grin that pulled at the corners of Jason’s mouth grew as he fed off Steve’s negative energy. “C’mon, the ladies love it,” and as he turned back to the line a couple girls toward the end started to walk away, “Oof, guess I’m a hard act to follow.”

Steve jammed his tongue into his cheek, hands balling up at his sides as he eyed the other boy, wanting nothing more than to put a fist into Jason’s face. “It’s for charity, dumbass. Not a damn competition,” Steve grumbled as the other boy pushed himself off the wall of the booth.

“Whatever you say, King Steve. Dropping like flies. Least you’ll get out of here early,” Jason sneered and gave Steve a too-hard clap on the back. Biting down on his lip, Steve struggled to keep himself in check, struggled to keep his hands at his sides until someone else chimed in.

“Carver you better get goin’, gonna be late for Bible study,” Robin walked up on the boys with you and Nancy in tow and gave Jason a too-sweet smile of her own, “Don’t wanna let Jesus down. Well. More than you already have I guess.”

Jason’s face turned beet red and Steve stifled a laugh with a very unconvincing cough, a few scattered giggles coming from the line.

“Shut up, Buckley.”

“Tsk, tsk. How’s it go? Love your neighbor or whatever? Anyway, so nice to see you!” Robin punched him a little harder than she should’ve in the shoulder and walked up behind the counter to take over for Chrissy Cunningham. “Alright, ladies! Now that we’ve taken out the trash – come give the King of Hawkins high a big ol’ smooch and help buy new basketball uniforms! Real win/win here, friends,” her voice was so loud it made people’s heads turn over at the cake walk and Steve wanted to die.

“Jesus, Robin,” he hissed, scrambling over to take up his post under the giant red sign.

Nancy turned to you shaking her head, but smiling all fond over Robin, “I kinda feel bad for him.”

“I don’t,” you said with a laugh, watching the line perk up a bit with Robin’s encouragement as Steve looked like he wanted to pass out, giving the first girl in a line a kiss.

“You know, he’s not that bad,” Nancy said, giving you a nudge with her elbow.

Glancing back over at the booth you saw the second girl walk up and give her dollar to Robin, Steve’s face still flushed and pink, but lips just as pouted and perfect as they’d been that day at the diner. Sipping down strawberry milkshake and pulling the cherry off the stem and you felt your stomach flip over.

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, but Nancy chuckled when she saw how rosy your cheeks had grown.

“Okay, well you better get in line or you’ll have Robin on your ass worse than before,” she reminded you of your deal and you groaned. “It’ll be easy,” she said giving you a grin, “And he really is a good kisser.”

Your blush only deepened with her words and you tried to hide it, throwing your eyes down to your feet and starting to walk away, “Okay, great! Can’t wait. So awesome. Just the best.”

“Relax! It’s just a kiss!” she called over her shoulder as you fell into the last place in line behind someone from your old AP English class, trying very hard to not turn and run away.

At first it was an extremely awkward and uncomfortable exchange of events for Steve.

People would give Robin their money, she’d say thank you in her silly sing-songy Robin voice, and then they’d walk up to Steve and smile. Sometimes it was shy, sometimes it was overly aggressive, and sometimes there’d be a weird pause where they’d just stare at each other. He’d clear his throat nervously or stress about whether or not he should’ve brushed his teeth two more times before he’d left the house, but eventually she’d lean in and they’d kiss and then it’d be over.

It was ridiculous because he used to kiss random girls all the time at parties and shit in high school. Used to love it. Maybe because it stroked his ego. Because he liked showing off. Maybe he didn’t get enough affection at home. Maybe Nancy Wheeler broke his heart and he just wanted to forget, but now? Things were different now. He was different now.

He didn’t sleep around, he didn’t kiss and tell, his dating life was abysmal and this kissing booth just seemed to add insult to injury.

“Steve,” Robin whisper-yelled between customers as if she could tell he was spiraling, “You’re doing great. Only two more to go and you’re done!”

“God, Robin. Please stop talking,” Steve hissed back and gave the next girl a weak, half-hearted smile.

“Just saying–”

“Hi,” Steve cut Robin off and greeted the shorter, blonde girl he recognized from Senior year science. She was second-to-last in line ahead of you and you fought back a laugh, watching the awkwardness unfold.

“Hi, Stevie,” she purred and Steve’s stomach lurched.

Stevie? Oh god. Why?

She’d clearly just applied a fresh layer of shiny, pink gloss right before her turn came up and when she leaned in toward him, Steve waited til her eyes were closed to grimace. What? He wasn’t a monster.

It was slippery and wet and not good, but Steve gave her what he hoped was a friendly enough smile as she pulled away all starry-eyed.

“Maybe see you around? When you’re done?” she asked and he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah! Ye–maybe,” he stuttered and she slipped him a piece of paper with her number on it.

“Call me,” she winked and Steve died.

“Okay, sure. Thanks,” he stumbled over his words and when she finally turned away you watched as he screwed his eyes shut, muttering under his breath.

You caught the words stupid and want to die and you almost laughed, but it fell apart in your throat as the girl walked away and left you there. Last in line and panicking as you suddenly remembered what was supposed to happen next. Why were you just as nervous as he was?

Shaking off the last kiss, Steve was ready to just be done. Only one left Robin said, but when he looked up the pained expression on his face softened.

You.

Robin’s room mate. Her best friend. Her cute best friend. The one who fought him over best friend duties. Who teased him relentlessly and gave him shit all the time. Wasn’t afraid to eat an entire pizza on her own and always ordered a chocolate shake with sprinkles at the diner. Who wasn’t afraid to call him out on things and had a mouth like a sailor. A mouth he’d wanted to kiss more and more every time he saw you, but he could never find the right time to ask or try or make a move and–

“Oh,” fell from him, quiet and surprised and your lips twisted into a little frown.

“Oh,” you said back trying to tease, but it came out sounding a lot more hurt than anything.

Steve’s brows pinched together with worry and he took a step toward you, the most he’d moved all night. “N-no, sorry. I didn’t mean it like…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, trying hard to put words to what he was trying to say, but they weren’t coming out.

“That’s okay. S’for a good cause, right?” you shrugged and forced a smile.

“Yeah. Right,” he agreed lamely as you crammed a dollar into Robin’s hand with a glare. Two weeks better be worth it.

Then turning back to Steve you took another tiny step toward him and he did the same putting you two dangerously close. Almost toe-to-toe. The scent of fresh laundry and spearmint and boy making you feel dizzy, making you feel dumb, and when you pulled your eyes off the ground to look up at him your breath caught in your throat.

Fuck he was pretty.

That pout. The twin moles on his cheek. The soft slope of his jaw. The way his hair fell messy across his forehead and into his eyes all warm honey, liquid amber, melted caramel. He was making it hard to hold your grudge and you could feel the wall you’d put up around yourself start to crumble.

“So. We just–” you didn’t finish your sentence as he looked down at you, his lips parted, waiting, anticipating.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh–” Steve’s voice was low and made your tummy twist as he shook his head a little and leaned down. Tried to do the same thing he’d been doing all night, but suddenly so damn unsure. He paused, close enough you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek, “Is this–is this okay?”

“Mmhm,” you murmured and you didn’t have to wonder anymore. You were nervous, just like he was was, and it scared the shit out of you.

“Okay, guess I’ll just–” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he closed the gap between you and finally, finally pressed his lips soft and sweet to yours.

And it was everything.

It was slow and curious and a little shy, but the feeling of him against you pushed you to be brave and you tilted your head. Deepened the kiss. Opened for him and he slipped a hand wide and warm and soft at the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair and holding you even closer.

His tongue chased along your bottom lip and you sighed into him, letting him swallow all your soft pretty sounds until you were both breathless and needing air and when he started to pull away you swore you’d give Robin every single bill in your wallet to do it again.

Steve huffed a laugh, hand still holding you gentle at your neck and you bit your lips between your teeth to fight off a grin, too caught up in each other to care about anything else until–

“Yeah, think I’m gonna need another dollar for that one,” Robin was beaming at you two like an idiot and you both fixed her with a look, all sass and attitude.

“Robin,” your voice blended with Steve’s and Robin laughed so hard she snorted.

“Oh my god, please, please make this work. Look at you two. This is ridiculous. Here, go get a drink,” and she fisted a wad of dollars from the register, counting it out and replacing it with money from her own wallet before practically shoving it at Steve.

“What–”

“No, seriously, Harrington. Leave. Get outta here. It’s eight anyway,” Robin cut Steve off and pointed at her watch. Eight on the dot. Kissing Booth closed.

“Uh,” Steve started, looking back over at you with a lopsided smile, “Wanna get a drink?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, hummingbird wings and nerves and a feeling you hadn’t had in a long time. A tiny flicker breathed into flames when Steve pressed his lips to yours and you felt your cheeks warm again at the thought of it.

“For charity?” you teased, trying hard to will your blush away as you pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“No way,” he said, too quick and suddenly his cheeks matched yours. Pink and rosy and warm and you laughed. “No,” he tried again, smile tugging into a smug grin. Just a tiny bit King Steve, but the show of confidence made you weak in the knees, made you want to kiss him again and you grinned right back.

“Okay, but you’re driving. Robs has a hot date,” turning you winked at Robin and her jaw dropped, fighting the urge to dive over the counter and kill you.

“A hot date?” Steve’s eyes grew wide and he reached up to slap at Robin’s hands, “With Nance??”

“I’m late, gotta get this to Click, told her I’d close this up by eight so she could go home,” Robin rambled, trying to pretend like there was so much to do, but failing miserably.

“Have fun!” you teased, throwing her sing-songy tone back in her face, but she ignored you, walking off across the football field still mumbling under her breath.

You looked back to make a joke to Steve, to laugh at Robin, but the sight of him had your words dying in your throat.

"Ready?" he asked, twirling his keys on his ring finger, looking the most relaxed he’d been all night and your heart leapt, hammering against your ribcage. Deep green henley snug across his chest. Dark wash Levi’s hugging all the right places. Hair still messy in his eyes. Those eyes. One hand jammed in his pocket and dirty blue Adidas shifting on the terf, ready to get outta there. Ready to get a drink with you and dammit, Nancy was right.

He was a good kisser.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve fanfic #steve x reader #steve x fem #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic

[florence-end]

Hi there! Can i request a cassian x fem reader where reader is insecure about her looks and compares herself to all the women around her like Mor, Feyre and Nesta, and cassian comforts her? ❤️

Absolutely!! I love soft Cassian, he’s such a sweetie.

The streets were already busy with Friday night revellers making their way between bars and restaurants, and spilling out of clubs to get some fresh air. You were supposed to meet your friends hours ago but had got held up at work, meaning you had to race straight here. Luckily you had a change of clothes in your office but you hadn’t had time to refresh your hair and makeup before you left.

The bouncer on the door at Rita’s of course recognised you immediately as Cassian’s mate and let you in without a fuss. You made your way to the back of the club to the booth that the inner circle preferred to occupy on nights like these, but found it empty save for a few jackets and empty glasses.

Perusing the crowd for any familiar sets of wings, you found your group of friends in the centre of the dance floor. Rhys was twirling Feyre around in circles, Azriel leading Mor in something of a jig, and Cassian laughing with Nesta as they moved to the upbeat music. They all looked so perfect and carefree, clothes immaculate and skin glowing. The three girls had obviously had some help with their hair from Nuala and Ceridwen as the intricate braids made them look almost ethereal.

Suddenly you didn’t want to be there anymore. You felt bland and dull, and couldn’t imagine yourself fitting into such a perfectly balanced group of beautiful fae. Before they could notice you, you turned and strode quickly for the door, emerging back out onto the street. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for were Azriel’s shadows. They had clocked you as soon as you entered the club, always quite attuned to you given Azriel’s love for his brother, and by extension you. As soon as you left, Azriel pulled Cassian off the dance floor and whispered the direction you had gone in as well as what his shadows had deduced about your emotions. Upset and embarrassment being the main two.

Cassian wasted no time in running down the street, searching through the crowds for sight or scent of you. As he stood a head above everyone else, it didn’t take long to spot you sitting on a bench looking out across the river.

“Was my dancing really that bad that you didn’t want to say hello?” he asked teasingly as he sat down beside you.

You didn’t look at him, although you could feel his eyes on the side of your face. “What are you doing out here? You should be at Rita’s with your friends,” you ignored his question, trying to keep your voice light in the hope that he wouldn’t ask any questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Our friends are perfectly capable of having a good time without me. Besides, I haven’t seen you all day. Why did you leave?” he reached out for your hand as he spoke, accepting that you weren’t going to look at him but you might allow his touch.

“Everyone looked so glamorous and I didn’t fit in. I didn’t want to embarrass you, and you all had dancing partners so I figured I would just head home,” you mumbled while playing with his large calloused hand.

“What do you mean you didn’t fit in? You’d be the most beautiful person in that room if you showed up in a ratty old nightgown. And you know I save all my best dancing for you. You’re not upset that I was dancing with Nesta are you?” Cassian continued to probe.

“No of course not. I love Nesta and the others. I guess I just feel a bit insecure sometimes when I remember how cauldron blessed they are with their beautiful faces and elegant bodies and perfect hair. It’s hard not to compare myself,” you finally confessed.

“I find it hard not to compare everyone to you too,” Cassian began, causing you to look up at him in alarm. “No one matches up to how kind and funny you are, how intelligent, the perfect curves of your body and every feature of your face that makes you you. Honestly sometimes I tune everyone else out altogether while I’m waiting for you to arrive and brighten my day. Yes my friends are lovely are in their own ways but it’s you that I always want to see walking through those doors.”

You’re too choked up to respond and instead lean in to meet his lips with yours in a slow, sensual kiss. You barely register Cassian picking you up underneath your thighs and shooting up into the sky towards the house of wind where he can ravish you to his hearts content.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x you

[growup-thatbeautiful]

The Alcott

Tags: Jake Seresin x reader, getting back together, short fic, break up and make up, barely a plot tbh

Summary: On a rainy night in Austin, Jake reminds you why you fell in love with him all those years ago.

Warnings: cursing, mild kissing, a lot of prose, breakups, getting back together, jake being a little bit of an ass

A/n: eh, not super happy with it but i wanted it out of my drafts. happy reading to you and 999 followers to me!

——————————————————————————

give me some tips to forget you

“Come with me,” he asks. “Come to school with me.” You both know your answer before he even asks the question. He has his path- the Navy, and you have yours- a job waiting for you in New York. He’s proud of you for getting it, of course he is, but you can’t feel that pride now while he’s asking you to leave that behind for him. Maybe you could do it if you loved him a little bit less.

“Jakey,” you sigh, “Please, let’s not do it like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it,” Jake answers, his tone cool. It’s not the voice you like hearing, especially not aimed at you. You know that Jake can be a cruel, harsh person. He’s shown time and time again from girlfriend to girlfriend. “You’re leaving.” His voice shakes and your heart brakes.

“So are you,” you defend softly. “Come on, we don’t have to do it like this.”

“Maybe,” he says. And he walks away, his blond hair glinting in the moonlight. The confidence in his stride is marred only by a shakiness in his unshakable hands.

You don’t see him again for years.

~*~

i’ll ruin it for you

At some point, you forgive him. It comes naturally, and you don’t think you’ll ever be strong enough to hold it against him.

You went different ways. It happens, you know that now, but the way it happened left scars.

Partners go by, men and women who just aren’t Jake. You love them and they leave you or you leave them- it doesn’t matter, really. They never know you like he did.

You accept that he was your person, your one, and you lost that when you let him walk away.

Some people just don’t get a fairytale ending- or any part of a fairytale. You’re lucky enough to have had a brief view of it.

It’s not like you don’t think about him. Visions of little green-eyed kids running through a manicured lawn with Jake laying out in the sun creep into your mind at weaker moments.

And it hurts to think that it could be with somebody else. That he could be with someone else.

But you forgive him. And you try to move on.

~*~

i think i’m falling back in love with you

Rain falls down around you, blocking the stars from peeking through the clouds. The smell- earthy and sweet- fills the night air, despite the city’s atmosphere. The door to the bar protests its movement when you push it open with a long, drawn out squeal. The neon sign above the door flickers from years of use, the green neon “Alcott” sign long since past it’s prime.

The inside looks the same as it did when you were last here. The dark wood paneling that lines the walls is cracked and a little more faded than it used to be, and the lights are dimmer than you remembered, but the smell of cracked leather is the same. It reminds you of blue eyes and blond hair and a signature grin accented with a toothpick between his teeth.

After all the time away, it still feels like he should be here beside you, a hand planted on your lower back, warmth radiating from his body.

You gravitate towards a booth in the back where you used to spend countless nights, a cold glass sweating rings into the sticky wooden tabletop. The cracked leather of the booth is uncomfortable and vaguely tattered, but it feels like old memories.

From your bag, you pull out a faded yellow notebook and start writing anything that comes to mind. Memories fade with ideas, and your thoughts flow onto the page seamlessly.

This place will always, always remind you of him. It’s the most memorable of your old haunts, a place where you spent countless nights pretending to care less about each other than you really did. It was the place where you lost him and the place where you find him and the place where you fell in love with him.

You’re focused on your work when a figure approaches you and a familiar voice greets you. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” That voice, the one you’ve been thinking of, tears you from your writing.

There, standing broad and strong in front of you, is Jake. For a moment you simply stare, thinking it’s a trick of the light. But the gleam in his eyes and the shine of his hair can’t be your imagination.

“Jake?” you ask dumbly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m giving a speech at the graduation,” he says. “You still live here?” he asks, no judgement in his tone. “You were supposed to do big things in a bigger city.”

“Not everyone can be a naval officer,” you respond with a grin. “And you should know that college dreams don’t work out for everyone. They didn’t for us.” You can’t help but remind him of all the things that happened between you. All those days laying on grainy, Texas clay beaches during weekend trips, sun woven through his hair and his eyes that matches the blue-green water. The late nights cram sessions and coffee runs the morning afterwards, completely enamored by his hand in yours. Laying out on the grassy lawns of campus with a blanket underneath you, iced coffees shared between you, his ball cap backwards and his fingers skimming across the skin of your stomach. “And I don’t live here, I’m just visiting. My cousin is graduating.”

“Murphey?” he asks, light in his eyes. Him and Murph always got along, although they were a strange pairing. Murphey used to visit you some weekends when her parents were busy, and if she stayed with you, it was inevitable for her not to know Jake. “Is she that old now?”

“She’s 22 now. Graduating with an undergrad in nursing. Says she wants to help people,” you explain, pride evident in your voice.

“Fuck,” he says. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Time flies,” you offer. “It’s fucked up, but it happens. Doesn’t feel like it, though.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“How’s your mom?” Marie Seresin, when you knew her, was a force just like her son.

The smile that fills Jake’s face is soft and wide, a special one saved for his family. “She’s good. Stubborn as usual, but it’s okay what you’d expect.”

“That’s good. Grace still giving you trouble?” Jake’s sister is just as stubborn as his mother, and she has been a strong advocate for you when you and Jake split up.

“She’s been on my ass to settle down, but that’s what older sisters are for.”

“So I’ve heard. No lucky girl ever got you to buy a ring?” you ask, offering him the seat across from you. He slides into the booth and leans forward on his forearms, the sticky tabletop underneath him.

Jake’s grin doesn’t falter as he takes the question in his stride. “Nope. Many have tried, but to no avail. Deployment doesn’t make it easy.”

“Right,” you say.

“And you?” he asks, and you make yourself busy shoving your things into your bag. “Anyone settle you down?”

“No, I’m too romantic for that.” It’s meant to be a joke, but it falls flat between the two of you. Truthfully, you’re too much in your own head to start something new at this point. “I finally wrote that book, though.”

“Really?” he asks, and that old pride is in his eyes. “I thought you said you were never going to finish it.”

“Yeah, well a few years ago I got some inspiration.” It remains unspoken that the inspiration was him. “I sent you a copy.”

“I didn’t get it,” he says. “But I’ll look for it now.” From the old speakers, an old familiar song starts playing. It’s a country song, one you somehow never learned the name of, one that makes a smile grow on Jake’s face.

“Care to join me, darlin’?” Jake drawls, a smirk on his face as he offers his hand to you, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to dance.”

“How could I? You never let me sit down when we used to come here,” you respond, a grin finding its way to your face.

You fit with him like you never left. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders. He’s stronger now, broader too. But he smells the same, like lemongrass and linen.

The music is full of static and not quite loud enough, but you dance on nevertheless. Jake spins you away and pull you in effortlessly, sure of his moves while you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s been a long time since you’ve danced with someone like this.

“I haven’t been the same person since I met you,” Jake says breathlessly. It can’t be because of the dancing. “You’ve changed me, and you know how stubborn I am. That’s no small accomplishment, sweetheart.”

You interrupt and tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, doesn’t have to make you feel better. You’ve forgiven him, and there’s no need to bring up old wounds. Not when they’ve scarred so deep. “Jakey-“

“No,” he cuts you off firmly. “Let me do this. You deserve to hear it.” He waits for your slow nod before he continues, his hands at fists by his side. If he reached out to touch you right now, you couldn’t say no. “We should have fought harder for each other. I should have fought harder. You were- are- the best thing that’s happened to me, and I let you slip away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask. It feels like a cruel trick, him saying these things to you. They can’t be true, can’t make a difference.

“I read your book. I know I said that I didn’t, but I did. There was this line you wrote that said falling in love was the last thing they wanted, but they did it anyway. I don’t think we’ve ever had a say in our paths with each other, but there’s nothing that I’d rather do than fall in love with you again.” It comes out in a rush of words, messy and poetic at the same time. Somehow, it’s everything you want to hear and nothing you thought you’d ever have.

Your answer is uncoordinated and decidedly not romantic. “Are you joking?”

The hurt that passes his face is brief before he recovers. “Darlin’, I’m as serious as I can be. If you’ll have me, I’m here.”

For all your written words, you don’t have an answer for him.

So you do what you’ve wanted to do ever since he walked away that day. You pull him in close to you and kiss him. Electricity flies down your spine and you grab onto his shirt, trying desperately to keep him as near you as possible. Like he’ll fly away in a cloud of exhaust and unspoken words.

But he’s a man of his words, so he kisses you back, his hands cupping your face and roaming your body. He used to know every curve, but you’ll have to reacquaint him now. 10 years is a long time. Though it’s not long enough for you to have forgotten what this is like- being with him. It’s a glass of Whiskey, smooth and burning with just the right amount of heat. It’s fire and smoke and green grass and everything that’s right and good mixed with all things that burn.

“Baby,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve fucking missed you.” Everything in you screams that you share the same thought.

“I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m here.”

“Good, he says. “Because I’m not letting you go again. We’ve wasted too much goddamn time without each other.”

Part of you knows that this isn’t how things work. People don’t magically come back, and people don’t get swept off their feet in bars on a rainy day. But Jake’s always been a thunderstorm at the least possible time.

You can’t question it when it feels so perfect. Maybe you’ll wake up and realize that this is the aftermath of drinking too much alone or it’s a dream that you’ll turn into a story and sell it to all the other lonely people. You doubt that you’re imaginative enough to create the callouses on his hands or the rough scratch of his jeans. You’re definitely not romantic enough to write the way his lips feel against yours or the desperate edge to his kiss.

But for now you won’t try to wake up. You’re going to keep Jake for as long as you can, and if it hurts you again at some point then you’ll have to heal just like you did the first time.

All the pain in the world is worth it. Worth him. That you know for certain.

#jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #tgm #top gun #top gun maverick #nova writes #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman x you #jane hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 6

Picture for Banner: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

Warnings: Ab*se, Violence, Mental Health, Cursing, Smut (mild), treat it as a normal Enemies 2 Lovers book, but the A/B/O dynamic will appear at some point. Trauma, manipulation, dirty talk, omegaverse topics.

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: All comments and reblogs help with the engagement, I appreciate every single one! ❤️I cannot thank you enough for all the follows and new people I met on here, you're all too sweet, and hopefully I can introduce you to this trope as soft as possible! Also, should I put this down as Mature category? Or do I just do that on the chapters that will contain one of the warnings above? I am new to posting on Tumblr, so I don't know how to do much of the interaction and engagement here!

Anyways, Enjoy!

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Chapter 6

“He’s not coming again?” You heard Nancy exclaim angrily as she took her phone out and started typing away with her fingers. You bit your lip nervously as you side eyed Robin and whispered to her.

“I can leave, I mean, I already had drinks with you guys yesterday–” Steve heard you from across the table and shook his head and then directed his head towards Nancy.

“He is a big boy. She seems to have bigger balls than him because she actually dares to face him after their fight.” A sense of pride surged in your chest, but honestly you dreaded Eddie's appearance. You could always ignore him, and that’s what you planned to do in case he did show up, but for the second night in a row, he didn’t, and you knew it was because of you.

“I know! That’s why I am trying to make him come down here!” Nancy spat as she stared at the phone and let out a loud scoff, slamming it face down, her eyes going directly to you. “You are not going anywhere, if he wants to be a baby, so be it.” You were actually surprised that Nancy was taking your side, as well as Steve, who were the closest with Eddie. 

“But, I mean, I can risk a night out–” And that’s when Robin stopped you from talking, swaying her beer around with a frown in her face.

“Don’t. He has to put the big boy panties on at some point.” You looked down at your beer and sighed, taking a sip of it. You were all sitting in the same booth as you always do, and the reason for going out for drinks two nights in a row, was because Jonathan was having anniversary happy hours. His bar opened two years ago, and he is celebrating with a full week of discounted drinks, which was getting him a really big clientele.

“Don’t think too much about it.” Steve says to you and Argyle nods next to him, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yah, that dude can be pretty hard headed when he wants to be. But he always comes around.” He says with a nod and you sigh, looking at him.

“Argy, sweetheart, I don’t know if you remember, but coming around this is not something I am hopeful for or want. We despise each other. I thought that was clear.” You said while looking at Argyle who was smirking while staring at you.

“There is a fine line in between Hate and Love, brochacha.” You winced at that, shaking your head at him.

“Hell no Argyle. The day Eddie Munson and I become friends, it’s because one of us lost their mind, or both.” You explain and it was Robin’s turn to roll her eyes with a giggle in her lips.

“Oh come on, everyone remembers your googly eyes at him when you first met him. Attraction never goes away.” As she was saying that you had the fantastic idea to take a sip out of your beer, only to be spat slightly at the word ‘Attraction’.

“Jesus!” Steve yelped, moving away to not get any beer on his polo shirt. 

“Sorry, Steve, but Robin, what the fuck?” You exclaimed, feeling a certain not in the pit of your stomach start to form. You did look at Eddie that night, it was hard not to, he just simply stuck out like a sore thumb out of the bunch.

“I think the two of you just need to fuck your hate away.” She said this time with another sip of her beer. You knew she was getting drunk now, but to say those things about a man who made your life a living hell the past year? It was too much. 

“I prefer to eat a raw unpeeled sea urchin than think of Munson’s dick, thank you very much.” You said taking a big sip out of your beer. You heard a big sigh on your side as Nancy put the phone down from her ear, and you knew that she listened to an audio message, probably from Eddie. 

Even if your friends were defending your honor basically, you couldn’t help but feel like a nuisance. You felt like you were a splinter, just poking and bothering whenever it pleases. You didn’t want the group to be on bad terms, even if you knew all of them saw Eddie outside these gatherings, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of him being cast aside because of your quarrel. 

Maybe tomorrow you can make up an excuse of not going out with your friends so that Eddie could take your place. Why do you even care about that douchebag? You know he wouldn’t give two shits about you if it were the other way around. 

But you know loneliness too well. So you can’t ignore it. 

Not even for Eddie Munson.

—-—————————————

You had your arms full of papers, walking down the hallways at your workplace, trying to reach your office. Robin had a terrible hangover today, which made you angry as hell because you had a deadline of bringing in your project next week, and you were feeling like you were handling it all by yourself.

“Fucking Robin, stupid alcohol, stupid happy hours–” You were so in your own little word that you didn’t see where you were going, nor the person you just rudely ran into, making your stack of papers fall to the ground. Your ass fell straight to the floor at impact, making you groan in pain, your eyes closed from wincing.

Great, what you needed. A stupid bruise, from someone that was stupidly in the middle of the way–

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes immediately opened, registering the voice, and slowly looked up. Worried light blue irises were looking at you, inspecting your body as he crouched in front of you. The black leather pants made a creasing sound as he did, and you sucked in a breath when you saw the button up shirt he had on, which had all the buttons on his torso opened up. 

And dear god, he smelled divine.

“I– What?” You were awestruck, taken completely aback by his beauty as he frowned in confusion, tilting his head. Oh, you were making an idiot out of yourself, you had to snap out of it. You had to stop staring! You shook your head to concentrate once more, his words registering in your brain as a deep blush from embarrassment covered you from head to toe. “I– Uh, yeah, I just… Wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say shyly, recovering yourself, kneeling down on the floor to start picking up your papers. 

“No, no. It’s my fault too, I was just standing in the hallway… Got lost again.” You looked up from your papers to see Billy Hargrove smiling slightly at you. He remembers you. Oh god, he remembers you from last time, even if it was a small interaction.

“I should give you a map.” You say, wincing in your head at your poor choice of words, but he chuckled nonetheless and started helping you with the papers.

“Maybe…” He says and you bit your lips as you both got up, helping each other by grabbing your elbows. “Or you can be my guide.” He finished with a soft smirk on his lips. Your eyes slightly widened at that because, was this really happening? Is he flirting with you? Maybe he flirts with every girl he meets, he is a model, he knows he is good looking so of course he might be taking advantage of that.

If there’s anything your life taught you before, was to not be naive, no matter how good looking someone might be, how charming they can be. A pretty face can be a mask for so many lies and secrets that you don’t even want to figure out what it is. 

“Oh, but it’s so close. Just like last time, the floor above you is where you want to go.” He seemed taken aback by your response. Of course he was. Billy Hargrove was used to women becoming putty in his hands as soon as he said the word ‘Hi’ to them. He thought you were another one of those catches of course, by the way you smiled dumbly at him last time he met you. 

‘This one’s easy.’ He thought to himself that day. 

“Well, you see, last time I even got lost on that floor as well, this office is just too big.” He replied to you with a small tug on his face. You looked at the big pile of papers on your hands and back at him.

“I am a little busy at the moment Mr. Hargrove.” You tried to be as polite as possible, even if he was dressed casually, you weren’t even acquaintances. There was no need to call him by his name. He let out a chuckle at that, and you gulped at how manly it just sounded.

“Mr. Hargrove? I’m not a teenager, but I don’t go past my 30's, Doll.” Oh, the nickname made you shiver slightly. You were too weak for nicknames, and as you kept staring at his grin, you remembered how two days ago, you masturbated in his name. Because you imagined him, with you, touching every corner of your skin, pampering you, taking care of you, knowing what you want and what you need. Making you gasp, writhe, whimper and moan his name with every tap, lick, flick, pinch he did to you.

“My name is not doll Mr. Hargrove.” You replied to him, snapping out of your memories, walking past him to avoid him looking at your blush. He’ll certainly know he has you around his finger if you cave in, so you were simply trying to keep your distance. But it seemed someone else had other plans, following you down the hallway. You were wondering what he was up to, reaching your office to finally put down the heavy stack of papers on your desk with a relieved sigh.

“Ah.” He pointed at your door, and there it was, the plaque with your name. He said it with a raspy voice which simply etched itself in the deep of your gut and you won’t be able to ever forget it now. “Pretty name… Doll suits you better.” 

“And why is that?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest and you notice it. Of course you did. The way his eyes went to your chest for just one second, because thanks to your arms, your breasts stuck out now, pushing them up. 

Billy never hooked up with a woman in an office outfit. Never imagined it either. Now, seeing you in front of him like that was making him discover a part of himself he didn’t know of, and that was, that he wanted to lift your skirt up, and fuck you right into the window glass that was in your office. 

“Because you’re pretty, like a doll.” It was a very corny line, you knew it, but you still shifted on your legs, clearing your throat, looking down at the pack of papers. 

“Well, thank you Mr. Hargrove. Like I said, one floor up– What are you doing?”

“You’re in charge of putting together my photos?” He was giving you his back, looking at the board that was in front of your desk. Pictures and texts were all stuck in various places, ideas that formed in your head for how the articles might look best, and eye catching. 

“It’s more than that. I have to make sure everything is detailed for possible investors in the brands you modeled.” He nodded in understanding at that, completely mesmerized at the work. He modeled of course, but he wasn’t the main focus of the articles this time. It was the clothes he was wearing. He looked at all the details she added, the texture, pattern, stitches of the clothing in various zoomed in pictures. 

“I didn’t know there was this much work behind my pictures.” You were looking at his back with a confused frown in your face. Talking like this with him, without knowing one another was weird but also soothing at the same time. He turned around with a smile on his face, looking down at his watch. “Oh, five minutes left for the meeting to start.” 

“Weren’t you running late already?” You said with a smile on your face, a small scoff coming out of your lips which made his eyes bright up at it. He doesn’t like chasing after girls, not at all, but something was drawing him to you, something that interested him for some reason. He walked over to your desk, putting his hands on it in order to lean forward towards you.

“I am not lost, Doll. Just wanted to know your name and maybe something else. A username maybe?” He asked with a smirk to his face and you felt your face heating up at how straightforward he was being. He was asking for your Instagram username. 

“A lie? Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say I was wishing to run into you again.” You bit your lip, deciding to play his game and put your hands on the desk, leaning forward as well, your face inches away from his. Your breaths mixed with one another’s and you felt it.

Tension. 

“Well, I don’t think there is time to give you my information. Your meeting starts right now.” He was looking at you, scanning your face and your features. He slowly said your name, a smirk in his lips as he inhaled your sweet perfume. 

“Cat and mouse, huh.” He said on the low, and your heart was going a mile per minute, butterflies exploding in your belly as he stared into your eyes, your soul, your heart, just everything. He leaned forward, even more, and you held your ground, even if you wanted to shrink away in embarrassment, or nervousness, you kept your head in place. His lips brushed against yours as he spoke once more.

“I can’t wait to catch you, little Mousy.” Your breath got caught in your throat. This guy, this model, this god sent man, who saw you twice in his life, was making you feel so desired, so wanted, so untouchable. He did something that you’ve been wanting someone to do for so long, for a year or more so. 

You just cannot believe it is him the one doing it. 

He pulled away from you with a soft chuckle, saying your name, bidding you goodbye, and leaving your office, closing the door behind him. His perfume lingered in the air, and you finally, finally, could breathe out properly. You held your chest, your hand feeling the rapid thumps that were bouncing under your skin. 

You gulped, feeling your throat completely dry after that exchange. Holy shit, you can’t wait to tell Robin. Oh, thank god Robin wasn’t here today, because she would have totally meddled and fucked that interaction over. 

You started pacing in your office, trying not to smile at how bravely and straightforward he was flirting with you, an office woman, someone totally different to what he is. You were no Kendall Jenner, his ex, or Gigi Hadid, but if someone like him looked at you the way he did today, it was alright to feel… hot. Sexy. Attractive. 

He was an ego booster, that’s for sure, and now you were expectant of your next encounter. Some small part of you was screaming because it was in need of sexual interaction, and it is yelling at you that you should have given your username, even if it was for a one night stand.

But the other part, the one that holds your dignity and pride, wanted to know how far you could go with this. A normal city guy for a one night stand, that’s okay, you don’t care, now when a model, a hot one at that, is bluntly flirting with you, yeah, you’re going to make a feast out of it.

As much as you could.

Because, it was just sex. Right?

-----------------------

End of chapter 6

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A/N: Please, comment or send me an ask if you desire to be put in the taglist ❤️

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[badnoahmens]

Something To Remember Me By

Noah Sebastian x reader

Working as a photographer exposes you to a lot of people. Sometimes they’re strangers, sometimes they’re the ones you hooked up with the night before.

A/N: another recycled fic of mine. Always thought about writing a part 2 to this, so let me know what you think!

You were prepared to have a cozy night in the night before an early start. 6am you had your alarm set for. It wasn’t often people landed their dream job, but you had somehow landed the photography job of a lifetime.

You had worked so hard over the past 3 years to develop an outstanding portfolio, and somehow the editors of your favourite magazine got their hands on it.

The phone call was out of the blue and they asked to see more of your work, so you sent them some more recent photo shoot images you had taken, and they were blown away. They invited you to join them on their team of creative developers and begin working with them right away.

As you were just starting to get comfortable on your couch, your phone buzzed against the pillow beside you, and you answered after a few rings.

“Sooooo…..” your friend started. “You’re definitely coming out for a drink tonight”.

“No way in hell” you replied.

“Yes way in hell. It’s been forever!” your best friend pleaded. You rolled your eyes at their pathetic attempt to pry you from your cozy, warm apartment.

“What harm can one drink do? I’ll even buy you food” they said, in another attempt to convince you.

It was at that moment you heard a knock on the door. Whilst still arguing on the phone, you stood and walked over the door, surprised to see your best friend standing behind it.

You hung up the phone and looked at them with an are you serious? kind of look.

It may have taken another 30 minutes, but sure enough you were coaxed into leaving the comfort of your home.

The bar down the road with your usual go-to, the comfy plush booths, good music and underground vibe was always something that picked up your mood a little. Although the bar was a little dark, you knew your way around pretty well by now so the two of you easily made your way to a table with some drinks.

You had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be just that one drink consumed tonight.

Three hours past, multiple empty glasses scattered around you, and your vision was so burry that you could barely make out the face of your best friend opposite you.

After that, you really don’t remember anything else that happened that night. Somehow, with some luck, you woke up the next morning back in your bed. Your head was thumping and your stomach was twisting at the cocktail of alcohol in it.

Curled up to one side, your eyes are still tightly squeezed shut as you try and will away the sickening feeling that is spreading through you. As you open your eyes, the brightness of the day seared your irises. As you try and ignore your burning eyes, you roll onto your back slowly, stretching your arms above your head.

As your head rolls onto the other side, your eyes slowly adjust to see a mound of sheets and pillows surrounding an unfamiliar shape.

As your eyes adjust, you can start to make out the messy hair that fell over a stranger's head, the muscles in their back as they lay facing away from you, leaving their back exposed to the air, the rest of their body hidden under the duvet. There were tattoos that decorated their skin, colouring every inch in delicate illustrations, making their way across their back, down each arm, and even reaching g up and around their neck.

Your heart begins to pound, racing as you begin to lift yourself to lean on your elbows. Peaking over their shoulder, you see a content face, mouth slightly open as they breathe peacefully in their sleep, eyes flickering behind their closed lids. You slump back down into your bed.

Holy shit.

“What have I done?” you whisper to yourself, covering your face with your hands. You look down at your body, only noticing now that our dressed in only a bra that’s twisted uncomfortably around you and your underwear from the night before. But before you can start to string together the memory you have from the night before, you glace at your alarm clock, seeing a bright red 7:14am glaring at you.

HOLY SHIT

You throw the sheets off your body, disregarding the comfort of the stranger, as you scramble to the bathroom, snatching a pair of black denim jeans and a stripe shirt on your way.

You ready yourself in the bathroom, almost tripping 2 or 3 times from the room spinning so much, bumping things over and you clamber up to your feet again. You stopped in your tracks as you left the bathroom when you saw the stranger sitting upright in bed, shirtless and hair messily strewn across his head. He rubbed at one eye before throwing you a lazy, sleepy smirk. It took all of the self control you could muster but to have your eyes tail down his chest. His tattoos continued all over his abdomen, portraits of characters and some large text taking up most of the real estate.

“G’morning” he said, leaning back onto his hands, his rough morning voice catching you a little off-guard.

“Uhh, good morning” you say, avoiding eye contact as you continued to rush around the room.

He lets out a little chuckle at how flustered you were, watching silently as you begin to gather your photography gear and put it into your work bag.

“You in a rush to get out of here? You know this is your house, you don’t have to run from me,” He says.

“I’m going to be late for work” you say hastily pulling together your things and brushing the hair out of your face. “You need to leave” you say to him, throwing what looked to be his pants over at him.

The stranger pulls themselves from your bed, standing as they began to pull their jeans on, and you cant help but let your eyes wander over the form of his body.

This guy was good looking, and boy could you tell that he worked out. The way his muscles rippled under his skin as he moved his arms almost made you forget how to breath.

Your eyes snapped back to your feet when you see him peering up at you through his eyelashes, catching you looking at him. You avoided eye contact as you grasped a blazer in your hand, throwing your bag over your shoulder and began looking for your phone.

He slipped his shirt over his head and turned to face you, pushing his unruly disheveled locks away from his face. You watched as his nimble fingers combed over his hair, admiring how they shaped his face and dark comforting eyes.

Once again, he caught you ogling at him and you snapped your eyes away from him. You could hear him chuckle as he walked over to his shoes, slipping them on one by one, annoyingly slow.

You glance at the clock once more, 7:30.

“Shit!” your hands pull at your hair. “I was supposed to be there by now!” You run to the door, hoping that you had everything you needed, before glaring at the stranger pacing slowly to you.

When he finally walked past you, out of the apartment, you rushed behind him, closing and locking the door behind you.

At this point you didn’t care what that guy did, He was out of your home and you were late to your first shoot with your new job. So as you ran down the stairs away from the stranger, you couldn’t care less what they thought of you.

Running outside, you threw yourself into a cab, hoping that somehow they wouldn’t fire you on the spot.

You pull up to the shoot location frazzled and sweaty. Nerves were building in your stomach as you walked briskly over to who you assumed was your boss.

“I’m so sorry I really am I didn’t mean to be late something just happened and I-“

“Calm down, its okay” an official looking man clad in a suit said to you. His colleague beside him smiled at you.

“The model for the shoot hasn’t even shown up yet” she said.

You wiped your brow and exhaled, before walking over to the set that was lit up by the industrial sized light boxes.

You smiled at the people around you, introducing yourself as one of the photographers and began to set up your equipment. Your camera somehow wasn’t damaged from your thrashing to get there and you thanked the lords for that. You needed this job more than ever and couldn’t afford to buy a new one right now.

You watched as set in front of you and admired how it was finalized to look like a tropical hotel getaway. There was a large pool outside with lounge chairs scattered around it; the room you were standing in had a large glass window and a comfy couch that sat pressed against the wall.

It wasn’t for another 30 minutes until you heard “He’s finally here! Lets get this show on the road” being called behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to walk towards the scene, only to have the breath knocked straight out of you.

You stared at the ‘model’ for the shoot, as he stared back at you with those warm, familiar eyes, hair still an unruly mess, and he was even wearing the same damn clothes he left your apartment in.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, sudden heaviness weighing down on your chest as you tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound totally ridiculous. As the seconds ticked by, the stranger from your bed stared back at you wide-eyed, sharing the same unexpected shock, but they definitely played it off cooler than you did. He was suddenly ushered away from you, tugged on the arm by one of the stylists you had met earlier, in order to get ready for the first scene.

You stood frozen, still trying to register that he was the model for the shoot. The stranger that you woke up with in your bed; he was the one you needed to photograph. It wasn’t long until he reemerged sporting a white linen outfit unbuttoned down his chest, allowing for the familiar tattoos to be exposed to you yet again. He threw you a smug smile as he walked past you towards the area for the first shoot and you turned on your heels to follow him, shoving your nerves to the side, knowing that there was no way around this.

As the first shoot began to warm up, the awkwardness was slowly subsiding as the two of you finally got to learn each other’s names. Noah was a great model, there’s no denying that, but it was hard to focus on the task at hand when you kept on getting flashbacks of his mouth on yours every time you saw his tongue dart out and lick his lips, or when you watched his long slender fingers brush his hair away from his face all you could do was remember how they felt in your skin.

Seeing as you were pressed for time, the stylists didn’t waste any time in changing between outfits, and Noah wasn’t shy about stripping from his first outfit in front of everyone. His hands rose to grip the neck of his designer shirt, tugging it off his shoulders with ease, and when he turned his back to you, you couldn’t help but let out a very audible gasp at the sight.

A sight you hadn’t noticed this morning, but there were red scratch marks clawed down his toned back, finger-sized bruises dug into his sides and what looked to be faint bite marks littered his hips. Your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to mask your gasp, but to no avail. As he turned to face you he twisted his arms through the sleeves of the next shirt, your eyesight moved over the red trails that continued down his chest, evidently caused by your very own fingernails the night before.

You could see more faint bite marks dotting his abdomen, bruises flushing against his abs. Noah wasn’t looking at you anymore, but instead he was looking down at his own body with a smirk plastered firmly on his face. He could see you from the corner of his eyes react to the marks you had left on his body. You could see the disgruntled look on the stylists face as they overlooked the state of Noah’s body.

“I thought you were told to take care of yourself before the shoot, they wanted to do some shirtless scenes” the stylist grumbled as they fixed Noah’s hair.

“I mean, I took care of myself, it was someone else who didn’t” Noah remarked, throwing you a wink. You rolled your eyes at an attempt to look dismissive but really you needed an excuse to walk away and hide the red flush of your face. As you walked over to switch out the batteries of your camera, you heard some grumbling behind you. You hadn’t noticed that Noah had walked up behind you, making you jump as he spoke.

“Maybe you should take a little better care of me next time, and maybe I’ll give you something to remember me by instead,” he murmured under his breath, before turning and walking away to the next shoot site. As you look over your shoulder you see him turning around, throwing you another cheeky wink and then walking out the door.

“Next time, eh?” you said under a sigh, but you couldn’t help the smile spread across your lips, because there was no denying that you loved your job; now more than ever. Especially if this wasn’t the last time you worked with Noah.

#bad omens #bad omens band #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fan fiction #fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #fan fiction

[rebelwrites]

Eight: Highs And Lows

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

WARNINGS: this is such an emotional chapter, heavy themes of dementia

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Stepping out onto the small wooden stage, I felt the bile rise in my throat as I looked out across the bar seeing everyone’s eyes were on me. I was about to show the world my vulnerabilities, my insecurities and a part of me that I had lost. In a way this was me trying to find myself once again, I had spent far too long trying to be a superhero when in reality I was just plain old Nova.

Wrapping my fingers around the neck of my guitar, I let out a shaky breath trying to remember how free I felt when I sang.

You can do this!

Letting my eyes flutter closed I let the backing track wash over me, feeling the beat take over my soul as I started strumming the strings on my guitar, “So he's gone and left you all alone, think the better of your years were spent with him. The little girl who used to dance, on fire and brimstone, is all but dead,” my voice was shaky to start with but I quickly found my rhythm as the music took over my body.

“Where's the girl I knew that held a lighter up to the radio. She'd do anything she wants, because she can. We were seventeen and wild and we were jumpin' on the Devil's bed, I didn't raise you like that,” finally opening my eyes, I looked over to Pops’ booth, seeing the tears form in his eyes tugged at my heart. “I taught you lessons about freedom strapped to the bucket of a four five five. I lit your hair on fire racing ten mile flats. Where American heavy metal thrives. Oh we were waitin' and wishin' on pink slips and kisses at the end of the line. When you rat-a-tat tatted on the glass, and you screamed on high I'm alive.”

It only seemed right that this was the first song I openly sang, John Teller was the man I called my father, the man that taught me right from wrong, the man that took me in when my dead beat biological parents chose drugs over me. This was the song he always used to sing to me when I was having a bad day, it always reminded me who I was.

“You can say that cat is long gone, I bet you look real hard you can find that girl within. She's probably waitin' in the wings, for you to come along, let her out again. You need a quarter mile, a bunch of horses and some gasoline,” I was putting my all into this song, in a way this was my way of speaking to myself, reminding myself that I needed to be myself. Not hiding behind this superhero image I had made myself into in order to keep my head above water. It was time that I was true to myself, it was the only way I was going to be able to move forward.

My gaze locked with Charles, there was something about the way he was looking at me that nearly made my resolve crumble into pieces. Tears threatened to spill over my lash line as I belted out the song. “I taught you lessons about freedom strapped to the bucket of a four five five. I lit your hair on fire, racing ten mile flats. Where American heavy metal thrives. Oh we were waitin' and wishin', on pink slips and kisses at the end of the line. When you rat-a-tat tatted on the glass and you screamed, I'm alive.”

For the first time in a while I felt free, the worries about showing the world my vulnerable side quickly dissolved as the music wrapped around me like a soothing blanket, as if it was protecting me from the outside world. I knew the final part of the song was coming up, I refused to break eye contact with Charles, I just hoped that he understood what I was trying to express to him through the song, especially with the last line.

“I'm alive. You wanna meet a girl I used to know, let's take a drive.”

Spinning around I let out a shaky breath, carefully placing the guitar back in the stand before turning back to face everyone in the room. Jax was wolf whistling, Pops was crying and everyone else was clapping. Nothing could take the smile off my face right now I was in my element as I jumped off the stage making way over to the corner my family were huddled in.

The moment I got within touching distance Jax pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss against the top of my head, “that gave me fucking chills, Squirt,” he hummed, squeezing me tight. Wiggling out of his grasp I took Pops’ hands in mine, the proud watery smile that was on his face told me everything.

“I’ve missed your singing,” he whispered, squeezing my hand, “seeing you up on that stage took me back to when you used to put on your own concerts in the living room, singing into your hairbrush.”

Oh god he was going to spill off of my embarrassing moments in front of the guy I was currently crushing hard on. I needed to be sitting down for this, Jax being the ass he was, had taken the space next to Pops meaning the only spot left for me was next to Charles. Right now I wanted the world to swallow me whole, especially when Jax jumped in on the action as well, he loved any chance he could to tease me.

“Oh yeah, you used to make us sit through a whole damn performance, home made tour t-shirts included,” Jax smirked. I could see where this was going, he had a mischievous look in his eyes as he spoke, “you even made him set up the camcorder to make it an official tour, even though it only ever happened in the living room.”

“Now that I would love to see,” Charles chuckled, nudging my shoulder as I sat back in the same spot as earlier.

“I think Pops still has the VHS,” Jax winked, causing me to flip him the bird.

“Don’t you fucking dare Jackson Teller,” I growled through gritted teeth, “if that video ever manages to make it to the surface I will personally take a sledgehammer to your Harley and your dirt bike.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Try me, asswipe!” I shrugged, downing a glass of amber liquid but I nearly ended up spraying Jax with whiskey from across the table as I felt Charles try to slyly move his arm around me. It was the classic fake yawn trick but even so the action caused my heart rate to double.

“You okay?” Jax asked, cocking his brow, I could tell he noticed Charles’ movement by the smirk on his face.

“Wrong hole,” I breathed, reaching for a napkin to wipe my face. My head was spinning and not from the alcohol or performing, this was the most contact I had with Charles since he arrived in town and I was starting to freak out, especially when he scooted over in the booth, his leg pressing against mine. In my head I told myself that it was only to allow Elenor to sit in between him and Pierre.

For the next few hours we ate, drank and laughed. Everything felt natural, the more time I spent with Charles and Pierre it felt like we had been friends for years, the conversation never dried up, there were never any awkward moments even when Elenor spilt her drink all over Charles’ hoodie.

He made out that it didn’t matter when Elenor started to freak out, her bottle lip was wobbling, her bright blue eyes were shield by tears that threatened to fall. Charles ignored his wet hoodie to console Elenor. Watching him wrap his arms around her, running his hand over the back of her head trying to get her to calm down warmed my heart, he was so good with her. Once he was happy she was okay, he attempted to take the wet garment off without making anyone move. As he pulled his arms over his head, his t-shirt rode up giving me the perfect view of his toned stomach.

The sight made my heart skip a beat, I needed to distract myself, I could feel my skin heat up, to the point I knew my cheeks were bright red. Pulling my gaze away from his abs I tried to find anything else to look at but in turn I ended up catching Pierre’s eye, smirking at me knowingly. The moment Charles’ hoodie hit the table I grabbed it mumbling into the air, “let me take care of this,” before I scurried out to the back where we kept the industrial tumble dryer. This thing always amazed me, it dried items super quick meaning I had an excuse to not be at the table whilst I waited for his hoodie to dry.

Stepping out of the back door I placed a cigarette between my lips, the sound of the birds in the trees gave me something other than my racing heart to focus on. The sun was starting to set which provided a welcome breeze, but it wasn’t enough. I was so close to grabbing a pack of frozen peas out of the freezer to try to cool my face down.

My mind was spinning with everything that had happened this evening. I was relieved that Pops loved the performance, I couldn’t lie it did feel good to get back up on the stage. My thoughts drifted back to Charles, I swear the connection between us was getting stronger by the second even though we hadn’t spoken that much. There was just something about him that set my entire world on fire.

It was like our souls had been entwined in a previous lifetime.

I stayed outside until I had got my nerves under control, even if it meant I smoked two cigarettes back to back, dropping the butt into the bucket by the door. I pushed myself off the wall, taking a deep breath, exhaling loudly before heading back inside to check on the progress on the dryer.

Once I had rejoined the table I dropped Charles’ sweater in front of him, the confused look on his face made me giggle, “we have a commercial dryer, don’t worry I ain’t a hoodie thief,” I shrugged. My words caused a large smile to appear on his face as I sat back down next to him. This time he didn’t try to be sly about his movements, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Thank you,” he whispered, letting his fingers run over the back of my hand like he was drawing something.

“I wasn’t gonna let you sit in wet clothes all night,” I smiled, boldly resting my hand on his knee, “I ain’t cruel.”

It was like it was only me and him in the room, these small touches made me realize how much I missed the intimacy of being with someone. It was like someone had put us in a protective bubble allowing us to openly flirt with each other. That was until Pierre coughed bringing us back down to the real world.

“You two need to get a room,” he smirked, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

“What does that mean, Auntie Nova?” Elenor asked, looking up from her coloring book.

“Nothing, baby,” I giggled, before narrowing my eyes at Pierre causing him to hold his hands up in defense.

“You need to watch this one Charles, she’s feisty,” Pierre hummed with a large smile on his face.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the look on Pops’ face had changed, he had gone from smiling to throwing daggers across the table at me and Charles. The knot in my stomach made itself known once again, I knew the expression on Pop’s face all too well.

“You just have to flirt with everyone don’t you Gemma,” he spat, slamming his palm onto the table causing me to flinch at the sudden movement. “You can’t be fucking faithful if you tried!”

Tears pricked my eyes, normally I could deal with his episodes but this one cut deep, it felt personal. The fact he thought I was Gemma made me want to throw up, I was nothing like her, never have been and never will be but for some reason in his head right now that's who he saw me as. I had never moved so fast in my life, pushing Charles’ arm off me, moving so I was crouched in front of Pops

“Pops, it’s me,” I whispered, placing my hand on his arm, “it’s Nova.”

“Get off me,” he shouted, pushing me backwards causing me to fall on my ass.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I looked up at Charles and Pierre. “Can one of you get her out of here please, she doesn’t need to see this. I have a feeling it won’t be pretty.”

Both boys quickly moved out of the booth, Pierre taking Elenor's hand guiding her out of the firing zone, she didn’t need to see her Poppy like this. Charles was now standing in front of me, offering his hand for me to take, he had an apologetic smile on his face as he helped me off the floor.

“You never could keep your hands to yourself could you!” Pops growled at me, pushing himself to his feet so he could square up to me, “whenever there was someone new in town you would be all over them like a rash, not caring about me.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling freely down my cheeks, I knew his words weren’t aimed at me but they still hurt. Especially knowing that he thought I was his ex-wife.

“Pops, Gemma is dead!” I said, trying not to lose my temper, reminding myself that he wasn't himself right now.

He hadn’t had an outburst this bad in a while, seeing the man I looked up too lose all control like this completely broke me. There was nothing anyone could do, we just needed to ride it out but I knew the way he was looking at me right now was going to be burned into my soul.

My heart was in pieces, the man standing in front of me wasn’t one I recognised. Roughly wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand I tried to stop the tears from falling but nothing was working. The whole bar had fallen silent at Pops’ outburst, I needed to get out of the room, right now it felt like the walls were starting to close in on me trying to squeeze the life out of my body.

“Sunshine, you okay?” Charles asked, placing his hand on my lower back. His touch provided some calmness to the whirlwind of a situation.

“I need to be alone right now,” I sniffled, knowing my make up was well and truly fucked right now. Shrugging Charles’ hand off me, I let out a shaky breath as I tried to move through the bar but it was just my luck that everyone was standing between me and the door blocking my escape.

“Can everyone fucking move out of my way!” I growled, not caring how harsh I sounded.

“Nova,” Jax called out to me, he knew that he shouldn’t follow me, although when I saw a packet of cigarettes flying through the air I weakly smiled at him, catching the smokes with ease, before slipping through the main doors of the bar.

The moment I finally got outside the summer breeze hit my face, my world had just been tipped upside down in the space of five minutes. Feeling the wall take the weight of my body, I didn’t try to hold myself up instead I slumped to the floor pulling my knees to my chest as the sobs took over my body.

Any happiness I felt had now been washed away by Pop’s reaction. I never would have predicted he would act the way he did, seeing me with someone. This was how my life went, one moment I was on top of the world, feeling invincible to feeling the lowest I had felt in a while within a matter of minutes.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc x oc #charles leclerc imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #Jax teller x oc #Jax teller x sister reader

[rainisawriter]

A Helping Hand – Cobra (PSF #11)

PSF Ficography | H&F Flash Ficography

Genre: Fluff, slice of life, romance

Prompt: Sweet Tooth (@flufftober) / Would you rather… pumpkin spice or cinnamon? (@slumberpartybingo Fall Flash)

Word Count: 2,729

Pairing: Reader x Cobra

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You entered the diner, enjoying the warmth it offered against the cold wind outside. The usual suspects were chilling at the table in the center of the room, eating the omelet that Naomi had made them while they argued about some TV show the three of them were watching.

You approached the booth in the corner where Cobra sat, flipping through a wrestling magazine. He sent you that soft smile that was reserved only for you as you sat down across from him.

“You’re late,” he spoke softly, eyes falling to the ring on your finger. He had given it to you for your birthday as a promise that he would always love you. Though you had sworn to never take it off, he still felt surprised and happy every time he saw it on you.

“Sorry. You know how Hyuga is,” you shook your head, tugging off your jacket. “A lot of people are gambling around this time of year, trying to win big before December finally gets here. It’s only going to get busier and he’s only going to get more demanding.”

Cobra did not like the fact that you worked for Daruma’s gambling hall, but you had known Hyuga long before you ever crossed paths with Sannoh. He had considered, on more than one occasion, asking you to quit working for him but he knew that you were, above all else, loyal.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He held his hand out and you smiled, setting yours against his own. “Just promise me you won’t gamble again.”

Your smile turned sheepish, a laugh passing your lips. You had only gambled once in your life after you had gone drinking with the Daruma babies one weekend. You were on a hot streak, actually, but you refused to quit while you were ahead and ended up losing everything.

You had started out with twenty bucks, turned it into ten thousand only to lose it all and walk away with just twenty cents to your name. The Four boys hadn’t done much better, either, and Hyuga was pissed when he found out. You were pretty sure he was just upset that you hadn’t blown it all at his gambling hall instead, honestly.

“I learned my lesson, I swear. I’ll never gamble again.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Good.”

It was pretty late by this point, so the boys slowly filed out of the diner until it was just you, Cobra and Naomi left. It was strange when the diner was quiet, but you didn’t hate it. Everyone needed a break from the rowdy Sannoh boys every now and again.

“Are you kidding me?” cried Naomi, sounding distressed.

You glanced over at her, seeing her begin to pace back and forth as she talked to someone on the phone. 

“There must be some way… can’t you reschedule? Ah, no, I… yes, I understand… I’m sorry about that, but…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly frustrated but trying to remain polite. “Yes… yes, I understand, Nakamoto-san. Good night.”

You exchanged a concerned look with your boyfriend before addressing her. “Everything alright, Nao?”

“No, not at all.” She ran a hand through her hair, continuing to pace.

Cobra leaned forward, brow furrowed in concern. “What is it?”

“You remember how I was asked to help provide snacks for the elementary school’s autumn festival, right?”

He nodded.

“The job was supposed to be split between me and Nakamoto-san, the head of the PTA but she just told me that something came up and she can’t help. There’s no way I can do it by myself! What am I going to do?”

You frowned, standing up to comfort her. “It’s alright, Nao. I’ll help.”

“You will?” She looked at you hopefully. “Are you sure? I know you’re really busy with Daruma…”

“Don’t worry, Hyuga owes me some vacation time anyway,” you grinned. 

“Are you sure he’ll give it to you?”

“Nothing is ever a sure thing with him, but I’ll find a way to get out of work.” You gave her a reassuring look. “I’m not very experienced with baking, but I know how to follow a recipe. If you write down everything I need and how to make them, I’ll happily help.”

“Thank you so much!” She threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly which you returned without hesitation.

Cobra felt butterflies in his stomach as he watched you. You were willing to blow off your responsibilities with Hyuga to help Naomi, to help a member of his family. The amount of happiness that brought him was, quite frankly, embarrassing. 

“I’ll help, too.”

Naomi looked between the two of you with glassy eyes. “Thank you both so much! I’ll get to work on the lists and recipes.” And then she disappeared into the back.

Cobra approached you with a warm smile, wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you for helping her. Let me know if Hyuga gives you a hard time.”

“I’m always happy to help your family, Jun.”

He hummed, brushing his lips against your own. “They’ll be your family, too, one day.”

You chuckled, looping your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. “I don’t think so. I’ll always be Daruma and, well… we caused you guys a lot of trouble at one point. They may be willing to put up with me because of you, but I doubt they’ll ever view me as part of the family.”

His brow furrowed in concern. Had one of the Sannoh boys said something to you? Thinking about it, he hadn’t really discussed it with the others. You just started dating one day and he started to bring you around without asking how everyone felt about it. He knew Yamato didn’t trust you at first, but did he still feel that way?

You poked the spot between his brows. “If you keep frowning like that, you’re gonna get premature wrinkles.”

His lips formed your name but you cut him off, knowing what he was going to say.

“It’s really not a big deal, baby. I went into this relationship knowing that they most likely wouldn’t accept me and I honestly don’t blame them for it. As long as I get to be with you, that’s enough.” You tugged him closer until your lips met.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, but his mind was partly elsewhere. It was enough for you, perhaps, but not for him. He wanted them to accept you, to love you like he did. He didn’t just want to be your boyfriend, he wanted to be your everything like you were to him.

Having his family accept you and love you was important to him.

“Okay, this should be everything.” Naomi returned with a small stack of papers, pausing when she saw how close the two of you were. “Am I… interrupting something?” The sly smile on her lips said that she already had her answer.

You laughed, pulling away from him. “We were just keeping each other company until you returned.”

“Sure,” she chuckled, handing you the stack. “I printed out the recipes for you. Each one has a full list of everything you’ll need to make them and if you have any questions, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Nice. When do they need to be made?”

“The festival is tomorrow afternoon,” she winced, running a hand through her hair. “We need to start working on them tonight if we want to make it in time… I’m sorry, I should have told you that first… it’s probably too short notice, right?”

“I’ll make it work and yes, I’m sure.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, turning to look at Cobra and holding out your hand. “Up for some late-night shopping?”

“Sounds fun.” He slid his hand into your own, fingers lacing together.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

As soon as you returned home, you started to look over the recipes while Cobra put away anything perishable. None of them seemed too complicated so you felt confident that you could make them with little to no problem, especially with Cobra at your side.

“What are we making first?” He leaned on the counter beside you, peering at the recipes. 

“What do you think?”

“We should probably choose whatever takes the longest to make so we can get it out of the way.” His eyes scanned through pages before tapping the one for the Sakura Mochi. “This is the longest, so let’s start with it.”

“Okay, let’s see. We’re supposed to soak the sweet rice for at least an hour and soak the sakura leaves for fifteen minutes.”

“Easy,” he grinned, grabbing two bowls and filling them with water. “We have to wait for them to soak, so which recipe is next?”

“Purin! We have to combine the sugar and water into a saucepan. Medium heat until the sugar has dissolved.”

Cobra did as you ordered without question, enjoying how domestic this all felt. He could definitely get used to this and was already making up excuses in his mind to get the two of you cooking together again.

For the rest of the night, the two of you worked together to bake the various treats requested by Naomi and you felt as if you were making pretty good time, all things considered. You did end up getting into a flour fight with Cobra because he kept trying to steal some of the finished treats, unable to fight his sweet tooth.

You were proud to say you had won that fight, though the messy kitchen was a reminder that you both had lost the war.

You yawned as you looked at the final two recipes, trying to decide which one you wanted to make. You had messaged Naomi about your progress and she told you that there were plenty of treats between the three of you. You should have gone to bed since it was nearly five in the morning, but you wanted to make one last thing first.

You hummed, thoughtfully. “Hey, Jun?”

“Yes, love?” He glanced over at you from where he sat on the couch, looking half-asleep.

You leaned on the counter, smiling at how cute he looked, even with bits of flour stuck to his blonde locks. “Would you rather have pumpkin spice cookies or cinnamon cookies?”

He thought about it for a moment, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I’ve never had pumpkin spice cookies before but I know you like them. I choose those.”

“What if you don’t like them?”

He hummed, closing his eyes. “I’ll like anything you make.”

“Such a hopeless romantic,” you teased softly, walking over to cover him with the blanket. You brushed the hair away from his face, fingers lingering on his cheek longer than necessary.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, though you really couldn’t blame him. All you wanted to do was sleep, as well, but you decided that making these cookies was more important. He had worked hard and, though he did attempt to swipe a few treats, he had mostly behaved.

Cobra was a man who loved sweets. More than anything, he wanted the sweets that you had made with your own hands because, to him, they tasted all the sweeter. You had honestly always wanted to bake for him, but you had just never gotten around to it for two reasons.

The first was because Hyuga kept you so busy that you rarely had the time or energy. The second, which was probably more important, was because you were afraid. Afraid that they would come out terrible and he would hate them, yet he would still force himself to eat them because he loved you.

You slapped both of your cheeks at the same time, shaking your head to wake yourself up. You were going to make these cookies for him and he was going to love them, not just because you made them yourself, but because they tasted amazing.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Cobra woke up several hours later, the apartment still smelling like sugar, pumpkin and various other sweet flavors that made his mouth water. He expected you to be asleep in the bedroom but you weren’t. You had fallen asleep at the island, the other half of your body draped over the countertop, arms acting as a pillow.

All of the treats had been wrapped up or placed in containers, ready to be picked up by Naomi. He glanced at the clock. There were still a few hours left before she was due to arrive so he had time to clean up. Before doing that, however, he wanted to take you to the bedroom. That couldn’t be a comfortable position to sleep in, after all.

He brought you carefully into his arms and you shifted closer to his warmth, mumbling incoherently in your sleep about pumpkin sugar cubes and honey tea. With a chuckle, he placed you gently in bed, bringing the covers over you so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

“Sleep well, love,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. It took a while for him to get the mess cleaned up and he was sure he had missed some flour somewhere, but that was a problem for the future.

There was a knock on the door and he headed over to open it, drying his hands with a dish towel.

“Good morning,” greeted Naomi, looking tired but pleased. 

“Morning.” He stepped aside to let her in. “We got everything done and ready to go.”

“Thank you so much for the help. You two really saved me.”

“Don’t mention it. We were happy to help. Do you want some coffee?”

“I wish I could stay for one, but I have to get these to the school.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got it,” she smiled gratefully, packing away the containers into the reusable bag she had brought with her. When she picked up the final container, she paused, a smile coming to her lips. “Pretty sure this one is for you.”

His brow furrowed as he took the plastic container from her. An orange sticky note sat on the lid with his name written on it next to a cute little heart. When had you made these? He realized it must have been after he fell asleep and he couldn’t help but smile, warmth filling his chest.

“I’ll see you later,” said Naomi as she headed for the door. “Thank you again!”

“Be safe, Naomi.”

Once she was gone, he grabbed one of the cookies from its container, taking a small bite. It was his first time trying a pumpkin spice cookie so he was a bit weary at first, but the flavor exploded on his tongue. Maybe he was crazy, but he felt as if he could feel every ounce of love you had poured into them.

With a smile, he returned to the bedroom, sliding under the covers and pulling you into his arms. You didn’t hesitate to snuggle further into his chest, adoring the way he smelled and how warm his body was.

“What time is it?” you mumbled.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, brushing his fingers through your hair. “It’s almost nine.”

“Shit, Naomi will be here soon.” You tried to sit up but he tightened his grip, keeping you in place.

“I already passed them along to her. Go back to sleep.”

“You didn’t give her the cookies in the plastic container with the blue lid, did you?”

“No, love,” he answered softly, unable to hold back his smile. “You didn’t have to make them for me.”

“I wanted to. I hope they came out tasting good,” you muttered, looking up at him tiredly.

“They taste amazing.”

“Do you mean that or are you just saying that because I made them?”

“I mean it.” He cupped your cheek, leaning down to rub his nose against yours. The gesture was cute and sweet, but it left you feeling embarrassed. “Thank you for making them.”

“If you want… I can bake for you more often?”

“Please,” he replied quickly before clearing his throat, color rising to his cheeks. “I’d really like that.”

“Consider it done, then,” you laughed, snuggling closer to him and closing your eyes. 

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

#flufftober2023 #day 11 #high&low #cobra #high&low cobra #hino junpei #slumberpartybingo #fallflashspb #RFO - PSF #RFO - PSF23 #fanfiction #fanfics #reader insert #sannoh rengokai #rains ficography #RFO - SPB

[oceans-goddess]

Tyler Galpin x Reader Series Pt. 3-- Cute

Summary: You and Tyler get closer during your second visit to the Weathervane, and you realize that you have very little to be worried about, And ohmygosh this isn’t summary but this gif of him is so fricking adorable I can’t keep it together

Link to Pt. 2

Link to Pt. 4

_______________________________________________________________________

“Oh. My. Stars. He asked you to come back and see him?” Lydia squealed as you recounted your conversation with Tyler at the pizza shop.

“Well, I guess, I think he was trying to be nice--” you began, but Lydia put a stop to your excuses right away.

“No, no, no, y/n, if he phrased it exactly the way you just told me, he definitely wants to see you specifically.” She finished with a nod and a knowing smile. You felt your face warm, and the bluebells growing from a hanging pot overhead bloomed in full. Why would Tyler want to see you, you wondered, when all you’d done in front of him was make a mess and embarrass yourself?

As if knowing what you were thinking, Lydia piped up once more: “y/n, you should go see him. He wouldn’t ask unless he meant it, no matter how you left the Weathervane last week.”

“But what if, instead of just a crop of weeds, I end up turning the whole place into a jungle?” I asked. Lydia shook her head.

“Just be yourself. He clearly likes you as you are, so don’t worry about it. Besides,” she continued, one eyebrow cocked comedically, “it’s almost Christmas. Maybe he’s looking for someone to meet under the mistletoe!”

At the mere thought of kissing Tyler, your entire room seemed to flutter with life as vines, leaves, and flowers unfurled.

“Lydia! Stop that,” you whispered, clapping your hands over your eyes as if to shield yourself from both your own powers and your roommate’s comment.

“So it’s settled then,” she said, standing at the foot of your bed. You peeked out from between your middle and ring finger and looked up at the giggly siren.

“What’s settled?” you asked, though you dreaded hearing the answer.

“You are going to go to the Weathervane, and you are going to order a hot chocolate, and you are going to look so hot, and you are going to sit in a booth where he can see you,” she rambled, and you shook your head in exasperation.

 “and,” she finished, “you are going to flirt. your. brains. out.”

_______________________________________________________________________

It took another three days for Lydia to convince you of her plan, and by the time you two approached the coffee shop, the two of you had squabbled over your hair, your outfit, and your abilities, with you rejecting every idea of Lydia’s for fear of embarrassment.

Eventually, you settled on an outfit you wore often: one that made you comfortable, but one that Lydia said also complimented your skin tone. You wore your hair pulled away from your face, because Lydia was sure it would make it easier for Tyler to “gaze” into your eyes.

You cringed internally as you thought over that comment.

Suddenly, Lydia paused, and you whirled around to look at her.

“What are you doing?” you asked, but worry washed over you as you caught a mischievous look cross your roommate’s face. She he clasped her hands behind her uniform-clad back, feigning innocence, and said, “I just remembered, I need to grab a book for English class, so I’m gonna go run and grab it from across the street--”

“I’ll come with you!” you offered, dreading the idea of walking inside alone, but Lydia shook her head.

“No, no, it’ll only take a minute! You go start batting your eyes at Mr. Mistletoe.”

You let out a cry of disgust at the nickname she’d given Tyler, but she only laughed and made her way across the street, leaving you to walk into the Weathervane by yourself.

_______________________________________________________________________

The coffee shop was completely empty, and as the door swung shut behind you, a bell above rung, announcing your arrival. Anxiety shot through you, but you held your breath and squeezed your hands together in hopes that you wouldn’t turn the chair next to you into a tree stump.

“Y/n! You’re here!” called a voice from behind the espresso machine. You jumped slightly, but silently rejoiced that there was not a single plant to be seen yet.

That was until you tip-toed to the counter to see Tyler refilling a napkin dispenser: behind him, on the floor next to a small table, were a few tall ferns in a ceramic pot. Right in the center was a cluster of bright purple fern-flowers.

“How are you today?” the barista asked, smiling down at you. You meant to answer but couldn’t form a response, your focus still on the plant in front of you. Following your gaze, Tyler looked down at the ferns.

“Oh, yeah-- that’s uh, that’s yours. I thought it was, uh, I thought it was pretty. So I kept it,” he explained meekly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. Yours were a much darker tint as you turned to look at him.

“That’s really...” you began, but couldn’t think of a way to finish. Tyler grimaced and said, “I can totally get rid of it if you think it’s weird--”

“No!” you interjected, the ferns behind Tyler shooting up as if to agree with you.

“No,” you repeated, calmer this time. “That’s really nice of you. Honestly, I thought you wouldn’t have liked them.” Tyler’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Of course I like them! Who doesn’t like flowers?”

You giggled at his response, relaxing a bit.

“So, hot chocolate and a croissant?” he asked, and once again you inwardly chastised yourself for not coming up with your order sooner. Why did he have to be so distracting? Why was his voice always so soft? Why was his personality always so inviting? Why--

You looked up to see him watching you, waiting patiently for an answer, and your face glowed red. Boston ivy crept out from under the sleeves of your sweater, though you quickly pulled at your sleeves to hide the sneaky green leaves.

“Uh, sure thing!” you managed, and he nodded with a wide grin on his face.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, so this time, instead of waiting at the counter, you set your bag down at a booth and took a seat. Pulling a book out of your bag, you took a deep breath and cursed Lydia for tricking you into coming here alone. She knew you would make a fool of yourself the first chance you got, and there you were, barely able to put a sentence together in front of the poor boy! Maybe it would just be best to leave and spare yourself further embarrassment. You could just pack up your things and--

“Here you go,” Tyler said, setting down a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a small pastry in front of you. You let out a short gasp, and a large peony burst open on the booth just behind your ear.

“Woah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” the barista said, reaching behind you to pick the pink flower from where it grew.

“No,” you began breathily, eyes laser-focused on his forearm as it moved past your head, “It’s my fault; I wasn’t paying attention.”

Tyler cupped the flower gently in his two hands and sat down across from you.

“Don’t worry about it; you just seem to get in your own head sometimes... It’s honestly kind of cute,” he admitted slowly, and a jolt of electricity shot through your body. Flowers to match the one in Tyler’s hand now covered the table. Cute?

“Really?” you asked, and he nodded, laughing. It was a soft, open laugh, one that made you feel as though this conversation was a lot more comfortable for him than it was for you. He then leaned forward, careful not to crush the other flowers on the table top, and pointed to the book you still held in your hands.

“How is it?”

“Uh, it’s great, actually. This is probably my sixth time reading it. I love it so much,” you answered, giddy at the thought of Tyler finding you attractive--

No.

Not attractive.

He didn’t say attractive.

But cute was a good enough adjective to be giddy over.

“Ha! I haven’t read it six times, but I loved it too. It’s a really relaxing book,” he agreed, and motioned as if asking permission to look at it. You held it out to him, and he took it in his free hand, his thumb holding your page. After a few moments, he smiled up at you, declaring that the page you were currently reading was one of his favorite parts.

“I write notes in the margins of my books, too,” he finished, handing the book back to you. “Maybe we could swap copies. You can read my notes, and I can read yours.”

Your eyes grew wide in excitement, and you leaned forward to match his position.

“Ah! Yes, I would love that!”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Aw, he sounds like such a sweetheart, y/n! And a book lover. Just your type!” Lydia cheered as you both walked back to campus. You had recounted your entire encounter with Tyler to her shortly after admonishing her for leaving you on your own. Part of you wanted to tell the story all over again just for the sake of talking about him. 

It’s honestly kind of cute.

Your legs felt unsteady at the memory of his kind remarks, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. The two of you had agreed to meet at the park that weekend to swap books, and though you had been dreading this day all week, you now felt that Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

_______________________________________________________________________

A/N: Gosh, I’m really starting to love these two. Thank you all for reading and supporting my work!

Taglist: @dwindlinghaze​ @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @diorgirl444​ @fanficfanatic204 @podraje​ @daydreamer-222 @peachycupotea @runrabbitrun3​ @theidioticspirit​ @vanessa-boo​

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin fluff #wednesday #wednesday addams #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin fanfiction #nevermore

[stayandot8]

Gentle Breeze (Ateez)

Genre: fluff

Relationship type: Yunho x fem reader

Important Contents: I made a promise to @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna a LONG time ago based on a dream she had and its about time I make good on it. So Bri, I hope you like it. Just for you. :)

WC: 882

masterlist

Summer had finally begun, meaning it was the perfect weather to be outside. Unfortunately for me, it also meant the Yunho and the boys had practice again. Every. Single. Day. No big deal for me, though. There was a big tree by the soccer field I was accustomed to sitting under with my headphones in, my playlist pinned to the top for frequent use in this exact situation. 

The trees swayed above me in the breeze, casting ever-moving shadows on me. The burning of the sun was lessened with these swaying trees, but that didn’t stop my skin from soaking up the rays it provided. My job forces me inside most days, working at one of the more popular hotels in town, so soaking up whatever vitamin D I could on my off days was prudent. The clouds were so puffy, they looked tangible, like I could touch them if I got high enough. They were such a pure white they rivaled Hongjoong’s new hair color. And his came from a box. 

Yunho and the others practicing a few feet away all sweaty and glistening was just an added bonus. A very nice bonus. I could hear them yelling whenever my music was changing to the next song. They would all yell and tease each other, sometimes resorting to physical teasing. Nothing ever more than playful shoves ever happened. There was nothing but jokes, teasing, and love between all of them, which made the college group of best friends the perfect group to enter when you started dating one. Of course, there was the occasional testing to you as well, but nothing you couldn’t handle. 

There was one day where Yunho couldn’t keep his hands off me, innocently of course. We were all out to the bar in the center of downtown, going out to celebrate something I couldn’t remember now. Yunho had me squished beside him, finding some way every minute or so to creep closer. His hands were playing with mine, running my fingernails across his palms and whatnot. I just stared at the sheer size of his hands, twice as big as mine it felt like. The other grasped the glass of beer and closed around the other side, his finger touching. They were good for other things too, which I had just found out the night before, so staring was involuntary. 

He nudged me when he caught me noticing. “I know what you’re doing and unless you want me to whisk you away to the bathroom of this very dingy bar, you better stop.” He kissed the top of my head and grinned down at me. I flashed him a knowing smile. “My hands could wrap around your thigh, couldn’t they?” His voice didn’t raise at the end of the sentence. It wasn’t a question. I lifted my thigh off the wooden booth we were sitting in, inviting him to try. “Ah, not quite. But they still look huge. I like that.” His innocent smile contradicted the mischief in his eyes for anyone who was looking close enough. Luckily for me, I was the only one looking at him. He pulled away slightly if only to glance San’s way, placing his hand on my shoulder and fully encasing it. I side-eyed it, noticing how fully it covered my whole shoulder. 

San noticed how large it was too. “Dude, she’s not going anywhere. You can let her breathe.” He said it lightly, but Yunho only grew closer again, his shoulder now firmly against my side and pushing me into the wall. 

“She’s my girlfriend, I can be as close to her as I want.” He didn’t take his eyes off me when he spoke, still with that innocent-not-innocent smile pointed directly at me. I shot one right back. His hand drifted down my arm to my waist and looped through my belt loop on my jeans. That was where it stayed all night. 

The memory drifted through my mind as I watched the wind push through the trees some more. The shouts from the field floated over along with the rustling of the material from Yunho's pants. I could feel his approach more than hear it at this point in our relationship. His shadow loomed over my closed eyes and I popped one open. 

“Jagi. The guys want to go out for some food. You wanna come?” He leaned down under the outside premise of grabbing his water bottle beside me, but I knew what he was actually doing. His lips brushed mine, droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead. “Plus they like you more than me so if you don’t come, then I can’t go. They want to see how you’ll roast Wooyoung for his new haircut.”

My one eye roamed over to Wooyoung, his hair styled in a weird ponytail-mullet combination. The words came and were ready to spill out. I smirked.“Let’s go.” He held out his hand and pulled, causing me to yelp as he pulled me up off the blanket. He gathered it all in his bag, tucking my book in carefully while I put my headphones back in their case. He held out one of those goddamn hands and closed it around mine, leading the way with his tall stature blocking the wind.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #atz #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x female reader #atz x reader #atz x y/n #atz fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #atz yunho #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho fluff #jeong yunho fanfic #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho imagines #jeong yunho drabbles #yunho drabbles #yunho imagines #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho fluff #atiny #yunho ateez

[queenkaiju]

🎵I have died in your arms tonight🎵

Angel of Death/Jason Todd AU

(Prev. Chapter)

All throughout the lecture Jason and Lea passed notes back and forth, like giggling teenagers in high school, and Jason was not embarrassed in the slightest. Who cares if he's blushing like a schoolboy, heart going a mile a minute just talking with a pretty girl? A pretty, smart girl, who laughed at his macabre jokes and made her own. Sue him. When the class finished, she smirked and passed him one last note, before slipping out the door. He was disappointed for a moment, before he realized what was on the small strip of paper. Her phone number.

(No, he did not do a little dance, you have no proof.)

He programmed the number into his phone, flip-flopping on the name. He eventually decided on just 'Lea'. He'd change it later, after their coffee date. Holy shit, he had a date! Take that, Dickface.

He quickly changed out of the plain getup he had on for sitting in the dim college classroom, and into something more presentable, yet still casual… a t-shirt and jeans would be fine, right? Across the room, on his nightstand, his phone dinged. It would have to be. She sent him the address for an overpriced little coffee shop on the Gotham U campus. Perfect.

He walked into the small cafe, noting the absence of a certain angel woman. So, he ordered his drink and sat in an easily visible booth, trying to keep his bat-paranoia in check. She wouldn't stand him up, would she? She seemed interested in class… what if it was an act?

The bell above the door rang and he looked up on instinct. His mind stopped in its tracks, frozen on the sight in front of him. Lea seemed to have had the same idea he did, now wearing something different than an hour before. Her oversized, black sweater came to her knees, over top of fishnets and Doc Martins. She had a pile of necklaces around her neck, and her braids were pulled back, revealing heavily pierced ears. The rare Gotham sunlight came in behind her, shrouding her in a halo of light.

She spotted him and smiled, only adding to the divine comparison in his head. "Just Jason!"

He chuckled a little, the sound dying in his throat as she approached. "You look beautiful." He blurted out, embarrassed but not dissuaded. "Like an angel."

Her eyes twinkled with mirth. "Why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself, handsome."

Yes, his face was on fire. So what? He cleared his throat. "So, what do you want to drink?"

Her face brightened, like a kid on Christmas. "Coffee. One of my siblings brought me some once and I've been dying to have it again." He raised an eyebrow, laughing a little. "Right."

She repeated her order to the barista at the counter, who looked at Lea with less amusement than Jason. The barista rolled her hand, beckoning Lea to continue. "Yes, but what do you want?"

Lea frowned, confused. "I want coffee. Jason, I'm speaking English, right?"

The barista's eyebrows shot into her hairline, and Jason muffled his laugh in his hand. He glanced down at Lea, expecting literally any other emotion to be present on her face. She was looking at him, concerned and confused, hand hovering over his back. Jason straightened up, turning back to the offended woman behind the counter. "She'll have a black coffee. Sorry about that." He slid a hundred to her and quickly walked Lea back to their table.

"What was that?" He asked, huffing a small laugh. She frowned (still looking gorgeous while doing so). "She was misunderstanding me, and I was worried I was speaking the wrong language."

Jason nodded, remembering some of Damian's moments like that. More often than not, it was insulting, but sometimes…

"English isn't your first language." He realized, looking on the encounter from moments prior differently. She shook her head. "No. Far from it actually."

"I get it. My little brother's first language isn't English either."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You have siblings?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Hundreds of 'em." He joked. She blinded smiled at him. "Me too!"

"Older or younger?"

"Both." She groaned. "They're so annoying, and only one of them has visited me in thousands of years!" He's never heard that metaphor before. Maybe a phrase in her language? "Can't relate. I wish mine would just leave me alone."

She looked at him with sad eyes, looking ages older than she actually was (then again, so did he sometimes). "No, you don't." He blinked at the tone shift, but the moment was ruined by the barista calling Lea's coffee order. He got up and grabbed the cup, coming back to her looking herself again. "Here." He handed her the drink and she stared at it with hearts in her eyes (no, he was not jealous of a coffee cup, that's ridiculous).

She took a sip and her face scrunched up, looking like Tim when Jason managed to catch him in a sleep-deprived state and trick him into biting a lemon. "Ugh! What is that?!"

He stifled a laugh, disguising it as a cough. "Coffee." She shook her head, glaring at the cardboard cup like it had personally offended her. "No, coffee is delicious. That is infernal." She growled.

He let himself laugh this time, offering her his cooling cup. "Why don't you try this?"

She peered into it warily, comparing the contents of both. "They look the same…" She glanced at him, and slowly brought the drink to her lips. She took a sip and her eyes widened, sips turning into gulps. She tipped back the whole cup, impressing Jason.

When she brought it away from her mouth, she wasn't even panting, licking her lips. "That was better. Not quite what Gabriel brought, but definitely better than," She glared at her own cup, "that."

Jason leaned back in his seat, amused by her reaction. "If you think that's good, wait 'til you try it with chocolate."

(Next Chapter)

#so many words #batman fanfiction #batman #jason todd #angel of death #Angel of Death/Jason Todd #college student jason todd #coffee date #anyone who drinks plain black coffee for the taste is psychotic #tags suck