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atlabeth · 3 months ago

Text

family line

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x gideon!reader

a/n: pardon the end where i just go into endless conversation for no reason but i cannot control myself. anyways thank you sosososo much for all the love on the last part and gideon!reader as a whole it makes me so happy!! enjoy some dad-daughter-spence car convos(arguing) and some elle time

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): the usual! r and gideon argue, gideon is not a good dad(but theres some reconciliation), angst, hurt/comfort, but some fluff between r and gideon & spence. more of a set-up chapter

The drive over to the safe house is a long one, and unfortunately, not a quiet one.

Spencer takes the back seat, leaving shotgun for you with your dad. He spends the entirety of the drive briefing you on what living in a safe house will entail, all the things you can and can’t do.

You can’t use your phone because it could be tracked. You can’t leave the place without Spencer because you are, in fact, being stalked. You’re not to reveal anything about your location to anyone—you’re basically shut off from the world until the unsub is behind bars.

And once he’s done briefing you, he basically starts interrogating you.

“Have you been contacted like this before in any way?”

You huff a laugh. “What, with creepy pictures of myself? No.”

“Anything unsettling,” he clarifies. “A text message, a call, an email— anything that rubbed you the wrong way that you might’ve just passed off as a joke or spam.”

“No,” you repeat.

“You’re sure?”

“How many times do I have to say no?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your dad. “Go through it if you want. You won’t find anything.”

He pauses, then he nods. “Reid.”

You shake your head with a slight laugh, then turn it over as Spencer extends a hand. He flips it open and starts to go through it, and you just cross your arms and stare out the windshield.

“We should really hand this over to Garcia,” he says. “She’ll be able to do a lot more than I can. I don’t really—”

“Like technology, I know,” your dad finished. “We will. Just trying to get all the leads we can upfront.”

You sigh, but you keep quiet. You guess you can’t really consider it an invasion of privacy when there’s a stalker after you.

“We typically talk to stalking victims for a while to figure out their lifestyle and possible suspects, as well as the type of stalker we’re dealing with,” Spencer says. “We don’t exactly have the time for that here.”

“This unsub has already been watching you for a month, maybe more,” your dad says. “He’s made his first move by reaching out to me—that means he wants us to know about him, wants you to know about him.” He glances over at you. “He wants to scare you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.”

“You’re jetting me off to a safehouse before you’ve even gotten the chance to look into any leads,” you say. “It looks like we’re pretty scared, Dad.”

“It’s preparation,” he says. “The unsub has made his first move—I’m not going to wait around for him to make another and compromise your safety.”

“This could also be a lot more dangerous than we think,” Spencer says. You still hear him clicking through your messages, and you’re beginning to regret your decision to turn it over to him. “Our unsub could be someone after Gideon using you as collateral.”

Your heart stops for a split second and your attention snaps to your father. “What?”

“…It is a likely option,” he says. “Very few people know you as my daughter. Someone who wants to hurt me could try to use you to do it.”

“So I was right,” you say. “This is only happening because I’m your daughter.”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes— I want you to admit that I’ve missed out on all the positives of you being my dad and gotten stuck with all the negatives!”

“This is not the time,” he says.

“How is it not the time?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ve said it yourself several times— my life is in danger. There’s someone out there that might kill me to get back at you. What is a better time than this to talk about how shitty of a dad you’ve been?”

“A better time would be when we aren’t this high strung,” he says evenly. “Neither of us are thinking as properly as we should be. We don’t want to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll regret any of this,” you say. “After all, I could be dead soon, right? I should get all those regrets out of the way.”

“Please stop arguing,” Spencer interrupts hastily. “This— this is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff. The flames burn just as bright, but for some reason, you decide to hold them back a bit.

“I’m sure it’s real hard for you, boy genius.”

The silence lingers. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Your dad, to his credit, doesn’t stoke the fire.

It looks like you’re all capable of restraint today.

“I— I went through all her messages,” Spencer continues. It irks you that he talks like you’re not here. “There’s nothing suspicious there, at least.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’ll hand it over to Garcia after I drop you both off.”

“We’re not gonna have a car?” you ask.

“You’ll have this one,” he says. “That’s why Agent Greenaway is following us.”

“Elle’s coming?” Spencer asks, and you see him perk up. You belatedly wonder what that deal is.

“Just so she can drive me back to the office,” your dad says. “She offered.”

“What’s everyone else doing?”

“Garcia is digging through some of your personal records for the team,” he says, glancing at you. “JJ is in contact with the local police stations so they’re ready once we have a profile. Morgan and Hotch should be looking through every case I’ve closed to get a running list of suspects.”

“Great,” you say as you lean back in your seat. “Nothing like getting my whole life aired out and put under a microscope.”

“It already is,” Spencer says. “You’ve got a stalker.”

“Thanks, Spencer,” you mutter. “I forgot.”

The rest of the drive goes by with ease—at least, relative to how difficult you’ve made everything else.

You’re already sick of Spencer Reid by the time you get out of the car. You don’t know how you’re going to survive such close quarters under these kinds of circumstances.

Another car parks next to you as the three of you get out, and your eyes are drawn to the woman that steps out.

“Easy drive?” your dad asks.

“I was right behind you,” Agent Greenaway says. “You drive like an old man.”

Your dad just barely smiles. “Stay with her, Elle. Reid and I are going to check the perimeter.”

“You can’t be serious,” you cut in.

“I already told you I’m not taking chances with this,” he says, and he takes his gun out. “This won’t take long.”

Spencer takes his out as well—he carries it with both hands, like it’s actually weighing him down, and it’s a bit ridiculous—and they split to cover both sides of the house and the surrounding area. You sigh and shake your head as you cross your arms.

“He’s certainly spirited,” Agent Greenaway says.

You huff a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m Elle, by the way,” she says. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced.”

You nod your acknowledgment and say your name. “Nice to meet you.”

She turns to fully face you. “Do you mind if I say a few things?”

“If it’s about my dad—”

“It’s not,” she interrupts with a wry smile, “I promise.”

You shrug. “Then sure.”

“First, I just want to ask if you’re doing alright,” she says. “You’ve gotten a lot dropped on you all at once.”

“I’m as good as I can be,” you say.

Elle nods, and her eyes soften. “I’m not gonna tell you to take it easy on Gideon. He’s an incredible agent, but that makes it hard to be a good dad.”

You don’t say anything, and she continues.

“My dad was on the force too. I resented him for a lot of my childhood because he was gone so often, but… then he was killed in the line of duty.”

You frown. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Elle nods in thanks. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I’m just saying I know what it’s like.”

You shift your balance and sigh, glancing away momentarily. “Everyone here sees him as a hero, and— and he is. He started this whole thing and you all save lives every day, but it feels like he’s missed my entire life because of it.” You huff a bitter laugh. “I think you all know him better than I do.”

“I think you’re probably right,” she admits. “You deserve to be angry. And honestly, I think you deserve to hate him some for it.”

You huff a slight laugh. “You’re the one person who hasn’t tried to make me feel bad for it.”

She shrugs. “You’re in an awful situation and it might be because of him. You don’t have to have endless grace.”

“Any chance I can get you to stay in here with me instead of Spencer?” you ask.

She smiles. “I don’t think Gideon wants to stick the two of us in a house together. But I am gonna make sure we catch this guy.”

“These kinds of assholes go after vulnerable women because it gives them the attention they crave,” she continues. “They worm themselves into their lives and disrupt it all and it makes them feel powerful—you have to play to their whims.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this,” you murmur.

“I have a lot of experience putting away sick men,” Elle says.

“Do you have any advice, then?” you ask weakly.

“I’ve only been around you for a few hours, but I already know you’re better and stronger than whatever bastard is after you,” she says. “He wants to control your life. Don’t let him.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’m… really glad you’re on my side.”

She smiles again. “Just doing my job.”

Your eyes latch onto your dad as he and Spencer come back around the front, and they both tuck their guns back into their holsters.

“It’s all clear,” your dad says.

“And I’m not dead,” you say. “Looks like we’re all doing good.”

He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at Elle. “Did you go over anything with her?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Just gave some advice.”

“Great,” Spencer says. “Just what I need.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Reid,” Elle says. “You’ll be fine.”

You don’t miss the look he gives her, and your dad clears his throat. “Can you take her inside and check everything? Reid and I need to talk.”

He frowns. “We do?”

“Sure,” she nods.

You stare at your dad this time, and he doesn’t entertain your annoyance with some of his own. “We’ll be in soon.”

“Sure,” you repeat.

You follow Elle in—you don’t feel like getting a lecture on safety just yet—and when you pass a glance over your shoulder, you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was watching you.

His eyes dart away just as quickly, and you huff the slightest laugh. You don’t know if he’s scared of you or just tired of you already, but whichever one, you don’t really care. If you have to be stuck in this house with him, he has to be stuck in there with you too.

Elle shows you around the place, and it’s nothing special—a one story house with two bedrooms and a noticeable lack of windows, furnished plainly with a couch and a few chairs, a small kitchen table, a television. You’re honestly surprised at how nice it all is.

But as she takes you on the impromptu tour, you can’t stop thinking about her words. You can’t stop thinking about all of it, honestly.

A month ago, you were driving home in silence after your dad forgot about the plans you made. A week ago, you were out for drinks with friends.

Today, you’re hunkering down in a safe house because there’s a stalker after you, and you have to do it with your dad’s stand-in kid.

That’s what gets you, you think. That you know more about Spencer Reid than anyone at his job knows about you—that your dad ignores you in favor of his work, and instead of trying to fit you into his life, he finds an FBI replacement.

Your jaw clenches. It takes a few seconds for you to realize you’ve completely tuned out Elle, only really coming out of it when she says your name.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says wryly.

You’re about to respond when Spencer walks in with your dad. His face is slightly flushed and, as opposed to all the other times, he won’t make eye contact with you. You can only imagine what your dad decided to talk to him about.

“You showed her around?” your dad asks.

Elle nods. “The basics. She and Reid can figure out the rest.”

“Thank you,” he says. He looks at Spencer, who has his hands stuffed in his pockets and is very intently focused on the wall behind you. “Help Elle get the rest of the things out of her car.”

He frowns. “Elle doesn’t need my help.”

“Come on, Reid,” she says as she starts to walk.

He blinks and nods. “Oh. Uh— yeah.”

You feel his eyes on you as he goes, but you don’t meet them. You just stare at your father.

“Is it my turn for a lecture?”

His eyes soften as he says your name. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it takes a decade or two of neglect to get here.”

“You’re right,” he says. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. But I’m going to get you out of it.”

“I hope so,” you say. “Because I don’t really know how Doctor Reid is going to help.”

“Don’t take it out on Reid,” your dad says. “Hate me all you want, but leave him out of it.”

“You’re the one that pulled him into it,” you retort. “He’s more your kid than I am.”

“And I regret it,” he says. Your eyes widen a bit, and it actually gets you to shut up. “I regret that it took something like this for me to be a part of your life again. But I don’t want our last interaction before you’re sequestered for the indefinite future to be a fight.”

“That’s all I’m good at when it comes to you,” you mumble. The wind has been taken out of your sails considerably.

“And I want to change that,” he says. “But first, we have to get through this. And we’re going to get through it together, sweetheart.”

The term of affection feels strange coming from him. Ever since your teenage years, he’s felt less like your dad and more like some estranged cousin. You hate it. You hate how unfamiliar everything feels with him. Jason Gideon has been a profiler longer than he’s been a dad and it shows in your every interaction with him.

But still, your heart aches. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“You promise?” you ask. You feel like a kid again.

“I promise,” he says.

Then your dad pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, you freeze. You can’t remember the last time he hugged you.

Despite the anger inside of you, the bitterness built in your bones, you can’t help it—you hug him back. You practically melt into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the sudden threat of tears.

Because deep down beneath it all, you’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, actually, and right now you’re just a girl who wants comfort from her dad.

“I love you,” he says.

“…I love you too,” you mumble.

Neither of you pull away for a good thirty seconds. When you do, you turn around to wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see. You hear the door open and start, but it’s just Spencer and Elle with some bags and boxes.

“Elle’s got some groceries,” your dad says, clearing his throat. “We’ll deliver more if necessary, but you’ve got the basics for a couple weeks, at least.”

“And a whole lot of books and movies,” Spencer says, hefting the box in his hands. “Did you know that there have been approximately 122 million unique titles published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440?”

“That’s less specific than usual,” Elle says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

He frowns. “I couldn’t find statistics on the exact number.”

“Why were you even looking at those statistics?”

“I get bored sometimes.”

Elle just laughs as they continue into the living room. You feel your dad’s eyes on you, and you sigh.

“I’ll take it easy on him,” you say. “Mostly. Maybe.”

And he actually smiles. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say offhandedly, but you find the slightest smile creeping on your lips as well. You kind of hate it.

Everything else goes by relatively quickly now that you’re not arguing every single thing—you have to fight your instincts not to, but you manage—and eventually, after another lingering hug and some promises to be safe (and one from Spencer to your dad to keep you safe)—you’re alone in the house with him.

“So,” you say as you settle on the couch, “this is what the indefinite future is going to be like.”

“If it makes you feel better, last time we dealt with a stalker we caught them in a few days,” Spencer says. “She watched her for a good while, though.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “Thanks.”

“...Sorry.”

You shrug your indifference and Spencer walks past you, focusing in on some of the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re sure he knows the artist, title, and meaning behind every single one, so you speak up before he can start.

“What did you and Elle talk about?”

“How this place doesn’t have a pool,” he says.

You frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “What’d you and Gideon talk about?”

“We fought then made up,” you say. “It was… weird.”

Spencer looks at you. “How?”

You shrug again as you cross your arms. “You’ve seen how we are. We don’t exactly get along.”

“Has he really been that bad of a dad?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “But… yes. He’s barely been a dad at all.”

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t get that. He’s so different in the field.”

“That’s why he’s barely been a dad—because he’s so busy here.” You tilt your head. “Don’t you have some facts or whatever on the percentage of fathers that are workaholics?”

“Well, 89% of dads work full time,” Spencer says. “And fathers typically work around 47 hours a week. But I don’t have anything on workaholics specifically.”

“Great.” You stand up and walk over to the box of DVDs Spencer set down on the table, and you start rifling through them. “So, what’d my dad tell you about me?”

Spencer blinks. “What do you mean?”

“When I came in here with Elle and he kept you out there,” you say. “Did he give you the run-down? Warn you on how difficult I am to be around? Tell you that I hate you?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Uh— no. He just… talked to me. Gave the rundown on everything.”

You hum. “You can tell the truth.”

“I— I am,” he says. He’s clearly not. “He didn’t say anything bad about you. Promise.”

“Whatever you say.” You land on a DVD and glance over at him. “How do you feel about Groundhog Day?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like Bill Murray.”

You frown. “That’s ridiculous. How can you not like Ghostbusters?”

“I love Ghostbusters.”

“How can you like Ghostbusters but not Bill Murray?”

“Because I like the concept more than I like him,” he says. “I love Halloween.”

You shake your head and move on. “Who put these together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gideon? Or maybe some random BAU office worker.”

“It’s an interesting compilation.” You look up at him again. “How about Dirty Dancing?”

“No.”

“No reasoning?”

“I don’t feel like dealing with a musical right now,” he says.

“So you choose to deprive me of Patrick Swayze,” you tut. You grab one movie out of the back and hold it up. “If I put on Goodfellas, will you interrupt every five seconds with facts?”

“...I can push it back to every thirty seconds,” he says.

“Five minutes,” you say.

“One minute.”

“Two.”

“One forty-five?”

“Two—take it or leave it.”

“Technically I have all the power here,” Spencer says. “I can talk nonstop about anything. Putting down a movie narrows that down.”

“...One fifty.”

He nods, and you huff a disbelieving laugh as you put the DVD in the player.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?”

“A lot,” he says as he sits down on the couch. “I usually get insufferable or weird or annoying, though. So ridiculous isn’t too bad.”

“Well, you’re certainly something.”

“That’s also not too bad,” he says. “I could even take it as a compliment.”

You sigh and pick up the remote before you sit back down. You look up at the clock on the wall and bite back a curse.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you mutter.

“Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” Spencer says. “Did you know that Scorsese actually cast real mobsters as extras? The cast members were told ahead of time so they could show the necessary respect to them while they were on set. There’s a whole mafia hierarchy, and only full-blooded Italians—”

“I haven’t even gotten to the start screen,” you interrupt in disbelief.

Spencer shrugs. “You said every minute and fifty seconds. Not how long I could go on for.”

You let out another sigh as he continues on. You bet Spencer could probably recite the whole movie from memory if you asked, but you honestly don’t know if you could take that.

There’s one plus, at least. When you’ve got a human encyclopedia next to you that can spout off whatever information he wants any time he wants, you think you’re gonna have a hard time thinking too much about your stalker.

You look over at Spencer when you finally make it to the opening scene, still talking but now about the different crime families in the United States. His eyebrows are surprisingly animated when he talks, going up and down depending on his inflection, and you find yourself thinking that it’s charming.

It’s annoying how pretty he is, and it’s annoying how annoying he is.

You look away.

This is going to be a very long lockdown.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

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solarmorrigan · 11 months ago

Note

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…�� Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #smallspaceplant #eddiesteve #listen Steve is u-haul lesbian flavored and Eddie is I know we're married but do you like me? lesbian flavored - you feel?#anyway I shouldn't be allowed to use tags on less than six hours of sleep!#answers from solar #solar wrote #hurt no comfort #edit: now with a continuation that will eventually include comfort

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months ago

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Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You have what some might consider to be an odd celebrity crush. Until you meet him in real life, that is. | 1.1k+ words of fluff!

Part 2: Celebrity Crush, Table for Two >

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

As you twirl your straw in your drink, you tune out the conversation of your friends. The message to get ready had come last minute, with only a few minutes to prepare for an outing before your best friend arrived to pick you up. You had been watching a true-crime documentary when the message came through, and rather than listen to your friends discuss their weekend plans, you think about the case in the show. Or, more specifically, one of the officers who worked the case.

“Hello,” one of your friends calls.

She draws the word out and waves a hand in front of your face, which you bat away when your attention returns to the restaurant and the people around you.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “What are we talking about?”

“Celebrity crushes!” she cheers. “Mine is Tom Cruise.”

“Gross! He’s old enough to be your dad,” another girl comments.

“And he can pay for everything like my dad, too.”

“Can we move on?” someone interrupts. “Who’s yours?”

“Mine?” you clarify, pointing at yourself. “Oh, uh, you probably haven’t heard of him.”

“C’mon, spill!” they encourage.

You shake your head, and the friend closest to you repeats, “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Tim Bradford,” you answer softly.

“Who?”

“He’s a cop, and he’s been in some documentaries. Like the ones with Corey Harris and Aaron Thorsen. Plus, a new one with doppelgangers,” you explain.

“So, he’s a cop, not a celebrity,” your best friend argues.

“He’s been on TV! More than once,” you point out.

“Girl, you know I love you, but that’s more of a ‘hear me out’ than a celebrity crush.”

You shake your head and sit back in your seat. The sooner you get home to finish the documentary, the better.

The next day, after you’ve finished the newest documentary and your crush on Tim Bradford has strengthened, you find yourself out shopping with your friends. Thankfully, they’ve moved on from the celebrity crush comment. While you’re in the third store of the day, you wait in the dressing rooms to rate your best friends’ choices while the other girls shop.

An employee approaches you with a nervous smile and asks if anyone else is in the fitting area.

“Yes, one of my friends is trying something on. Is everything okay?” you answer.

“Oh, of course. I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve locked the doors because there are some suspicious characters in the area. The police are on the way, so everything will be under control soon.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say.

She sighs in relief that you were kind about the ordeal, then walks away to alert other customers. You look toward the large windows on the storefront but don’t see anything happening in the parking lot.

A few minutes later, after your friends have purchased their items and are waiting to leave, two police officers walk to the locked door and knock on it. The employee you spoke to earlier rushes to let them in and obeys when the male officer instructs her to lock the door again.

“Ladies, we’re with the LAPD,” the shorter man says. “Our colleagues are outside handling the situation as we speak. However, we need your help; if you’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary today, please meet me at the counter and we’ll fill out a report.”

The employees follow him to the counter, and you realize that he is in the documentaries you’ve been watching. As you turn to look outside again, you see the other officer.

“Are you Sergeant Tim Bradford?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, I just watched the documentaries you were in and thought it was you. Your insight was informative; I liked listening to your side of the case.”

He smiles kindly and says, “I’m glad.”

You nod, then step back and look around the store. Unsure how much longer you’ll have to wait, you take a moment to look at the merchandise. You usually tag along on shopping trips but don’t buy anything. Your friends have different tastes than you, and an easier time buying things for themselves. One item catches your eye, and you run your finger over it. They have your preferred size, and you tap it a few times before you look away again.

Unknown to you, Tim watches you. He’s seen people come up to Aaron, Lucy, and even Nolan, and claim to have seen them on television. Those encounters usually end with someone asking for a picture, an autograph, and, once, to get their cousin released early. This is the first time he’s heard a genuine compliment, and he’s happy to have been the one you chose to give it to.

“Officer Bradford?” his partner calls. “A word?”

You smile at Tim when you look toward him, and with his eyes already on you, he notices immediately. He dips his chin as he walks past you, and you walk across the room to your friends.

“Wait, is that your celebrity crush?” your best friend whispers. “You didn’t say he was like… Abercrombie model hot!”

You shrug, and she turns to your other friends to talk about how attractive the officers are. Your gaze wanders back to the only thing in the store you’d ever consider buying, but you shake your head and look at Tim Bradford instead.

“The situation has been handled and the area is safe now. You’re free to go,” he announces. “Thank you for your help.”

Your friends rush out, eager to get to another store, but you walk toward the door at a normal pace. Tim and his partner are walking out too, and you hold the door for them.

“Go ahead,” Tim tells his partner. “Thanks,” he says to you.

He stops beside you, and you let the door close. After a glance over his shoulder, Tim passes you a bag.

“What is this?” you inquire.

“A thank you.”

“For?”

“Being nice. Plus, you didn’t ogle me like your friends.”

You chuckle and smile as you argue, “You’ve got to be used to that.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You peek in the bag and see the item you were looking at. “I can’t accept this.”

“The ladies inside told me I had to take something for keeping them safe.”

“And you got me something?” Tim smiles, and you shake your head. “Thank you.”

“If you’d really like to thank me or hear more about those cases you seem to like so much, maybe we could meet for dinner sometime.”

“I would love that.”

“Great. I have to go, but… give me a call.”

You watch him leave, then realize that he didn’t give you his number. As you walk away, you pull the receipt from the bag. But it isn’t a receipt. It’s a piece of paper with his name and number. Under that, he wrote, I never wanted to be a celebrity crush before today.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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wandascosmic · 3 months ago

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your boyfriend, he's upset (4)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part four of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 2596

tags: slight homophobia, best friends to lovers, reader's so in love, wanda's as oblivious as it gets, to reader's feelings and her own, reader messing with sam even more, wanda joins in on the pranks, we hate vision in this one

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“Hey,” Sam whispers to you as you’re reading over your files by the copy machine. “So, listen, I was thinking that it might be a good idea if you and I formed an alliance, you know, ‘cause of the downsizing.”

You nod slightly, still keeping your eyes on your papers but acknowledging the fact that you’re listening to him. There was a rumor going around that Tony was possibly being forced by corporate to remove a couple of his staff, and because Sam was Tony’s biggest suckup, naturally he was worried about being laid off. You and Wanda had talked about it earlier, and you both weren’t too worried, since you knew you would remain friends. Plus, the only good part about your job in your opinion was seeing Wanda every day, so that would probably be the driving force that would make you miss this place at all.

“Would you like to form an alliance with me?” he asks lowly, like the two of you were on some sort of top-secret mission.

You meet his gaze, narrowing your eyes and looking over your shoulder as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping on your conversation. “Absolutely, I do,” you respond under your breath, imitating his spy-like tone of voice.

“Good, good,” Sam answers, crossing his arms and scowling around at the members of the office. “Okay, now we need to figure out who’s vulnerable, and who’s protected,” he points a finger to emphasize his point.

Sam continues to speak about his plan for the two of you, but you don’t hear him over the excitement bubbling up in your chest as he presents to you a way you can finally get back at him for all the times he’s annoyed you. Your mind runs through a million different ideas of how to prank him, and you try not to smile to give it away, doing your best to maintain a serious expression.

“Just one other thing, and this is important,” Sam states, and you snap out of your thoughts to play your role once more.

You lean closer to hear him clearly.

“This alliance is completely secret, ok? You cannot tell anyone about this.”

You nod, holding out your hand for him to shake. He takes it with a firm grip.

*** “An alliance?” Wanda asks with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug, leaning over her desk, acting nonchalant but giving her a look to indicate that it’s a joke to you too.

“What does that even mean?”

You break out into a smile. “I don’t know, I think it has something to do with ‘Survivor’, but I’m honestly not sure,” you joke.

Wanda chuckles at your jest.

“It’ll definitely involve spying on people, and we may build a fort in accounting,” you finish amusingly as she grins.

“Y/N!” Sam interrupts from across the room, your head snapping up to turn towards him by the fake tree in the middle of the office.

He narrows his gaze at you and Wanda suspiciously. “Can I talk to you for a second about…the paper products?” he lies, beckoning you over with a gesture of his hand.

“Good luck,” Wanda whispers to you.

You wink at her before walking over to meet Sam in the kitchen.

Wanda watches your retreating from with a smile and an amused shake of her head.

***

Slamming the door closed, Sam wastes no time in confronting you. “Did you tell Wanda about the alliance?” he accuses, pointing a finger at your chest.

“What? No-” you respond as if his accusation is completely ludicrous.

“Just now!” Sam shouts at you.

“Oh,” your eyes widen in fake realization. “Oh, no, no, no, Sam, no. I’m using her,” you clarify. “For the alliance.”

Sam looks at you skeptically.

“Who knows the most information about this office? Wanda!” you explain.

“Right, that’s good, keep doing it,” Sam says, watching Wanda work at her desk in suspicion through the kitchen window.

“Well, I’m trying to,” you answer. “Do you see what I’m doing?”

“Mhm,” Sam continues to analyze all of Wanda’s actions.

“But listen,” you get his attention, turning him back around to face you. “I’m gonna have to talk to her a lot, all right?” Sam nods. “And there may be chatting, and giggling, alright? And you gotta just pretend to ignore it, got that? Wipe it away.”

“Done,” Sam says.

“All right,” you acknowledge, patting him on the back and leaving the kitchen to head to your desk.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” you tell Sam in the parking lot between the cars, pacing back and forth with your arms crossed and a scowl on your face.

“What?” he asks with worry.

“Bruce and Nat,” you pause, stepping closer to him. “They’re forming an alliance,” you admit.

“What? How do you know?” he asks disbelievingly.

“I saw them talking at lunch,” you lie. In reality, they were talking about their favorite sandwich shop in New York and they let you join in on the fun. You actually managed to learn a lot more about the history of ham and cheese. “And if Bruce is in HR, and Nat is in accounting, think about it.”

“Oh, they are forming an alliance!” he grunts angrily, kicking the tires of a red car in front of the two of you.

“Okay, listen,” you tell him. “We need to assume that everyone in this office is forming an alliance, and is therefore trying to get us kicked off.”

“God, damn it! Why us?” he asks up at the sky.

You hold his shoulder as he makes eye contact with you. “Because we’re strong, Sam. Because we’re strong.”

***

“Hey, Y/N? Can I talk to you for a second?” Wanda asks, her arms crossed as she comes up to your desk, seeming as if something was weighing her down.

“Sure, what’s up?” you ask, swiveling around in your chair to face her.

“Um, I don’t know, I’m just going a little crazy,” she explains. “‘Cause I keep overhearing all of these conversations between Tony and corporate.”

Sam’s ears perk up as he hears Wanda’s confession from his desk next to yours.

“And they’re all about like, staff issues,” she continues.

You smirk as you see Sam’s brows furrow out of the corner of your eye as he pretends to keep reading his magazine.

“Oh, no,” you respond, leaning your elbow on your chair’s armrest and putting your chin in your hand.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “And he’s making me take notes on all these meetings, and I’m like, “These people are my friends,”” she says with worry.

“Right,” you acknowledge.

“But he’s all like, “This is confidential, you can’t tell anybody,”” she imitates. “But I don’t know, I just feel like I need to tell somebody, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” you assure her.

“Anyways, just promise me you’re not gonna say anything?” she asks you nervously and pulling her sleeves over the back of her hands.

“I will not tell anybody,” you promise. “This is between you and me.”

“Okay,” she says with relief and blows out a puff of air. You get out your chair and follow her back to her desk.

“I didn’t know you were an actress, Maximoff, that was perfect,” you whisper to her, stopping at reception, and drumming your fingers on the table.

“All in a day’s work, L/N,” she repeats your phrase back to you with a cheeky grin as she sits back down.

You shake your head in amusement. That was all her idea too. Leaning on your elbow and putting your head in your palm, you admire her quietly as she starts typing on her computer, giving you small smiles every now and then. You sigh softly, she’s so amazing.

***

“Okay, here’s the deal,” you let Sam know in the kitchen, locking the door and peeking through the window to make sure no one’s listening. “Wanda says that one of the alliances is meeting in the warehouse during Jennifer’s birthday party later today.”

“Oh my god, we have to be there!” Sam responds.

“I know! But it’s gonna be a little tough because there’s no good place to hide down there,” you explain.

“No, no, yes there is behind the shelves- oh my God,” Sam’s eyes widen.

“What is it?” you ask with curiosity.

“I know exactly what to do.”

***

“This is not what I had in mind, Sam,” you say as he steps into the large cardboard box in the middle of the warehouse.

“Shut up, this is gonna be perfect, Y/N. It’s got a central location, and it’s the perfect cover. I can see and hear everything,” he answers.

“Okay, good,” you respond, as he sits down in the box. “Wait, this isn’t gonna work, the lids open,” you let him know.

“So tape it down,” he answers obviously.

“I can’t do that,” you squat down at his level. “You won’t be able to breathe.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, I can breathe just fine, okay, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll poke holes in the box.”

“Thank you, okay,” you nod, standing up and closing the lid.

“God, you’re so needy, Y/N,” he says.

“Yeah, thank you, Sam,” you say sarcastically. “So, do you want me to stay here, and you know, stand next to the box?”

“No,” he retorts, opening up the lid from the inside. “You need to go upstairs to the party, so people don’t notice that we’re both gone.”

“Right. That’s good.”

You poke a couple of holes in the box as well as two peepholes before taping the lid shut.

Letting Sam know that you’re finished, he tells you to leave to go to the party. “All right, let me know if you hear anything,” you tell him, walking backwards slowly, and trying your best to hold in your laughter.

Once you’re at the bottom of the staircase you turn to rush upstairs to let Wanda know about what your shared scheme has led to.

***

“He’s in a box?” Wanda asks disbelievingly as she looks up at you from her chair.

“Wanda, he’s in a box!” you laugh, eating a bite of Jennifer’s birthday cake and leaning further over her desk. “He’s downstairs, in a box, on the floor near the shelves.”

Wanda laughs.

“I’m serious! Go down there, check it out, and work your magic,” you say as you point your fork at her with a mischievous grin.

Wanda bites her lip in mischief, nudging her head towards the stairs for the two of you to go mess with Sam even more.

Wanda steps down the stairs loudly to make sure Sam can hear her arrival, while you trudge behind her as quietly as possible ready to watch the scene unfold before you.

Stopping at the last few steps, you point towards the box Sam is in, and Wanda walks towards it, pulling out her phone.

“Hey, where are you?” she says as if she’s on an important call. “Yeah, we were supposed to meet here.”

You bite your fist to hold in your laughter.

“What?” Wanda says with fake shock. “Oh my gosh,” Wanda says as she covers her mouth to hold in her laughter. “That ties in perfectly with something that Tony was telling me earlier!” The two of you look at each other with enormous grins as you both notice Sam trying to tear open the box from the inside with his pocket knife. “Yeah, I just don’t know what people, in like, accounting are gonna do,” she says as if she’s stressed. “It said specifically that-”

Sam falls over in his box and the two of you nearly burst out in hysterics.

With Sam letting out a groan of pain, Wanda shuts her phone and runs towards you with a huge smile on her face and grabs your hand absentmindedly, the two of you unable to control your laughter as you both make your way back upstairs.

***

“Wanda!” you say excitedly as you run around her receptionist's desk to stand behind her chair. “I have something that totally tops the box.”

“Oh, tell me, tell me,” she says eagerly looking up at you.

“Okay,” you start with a big smile on your face. “I have just convinced Sam that he needs to go to Stamford, and spy on our other branch.”

Wanda muffles her laughter with her hand.

“No, no, no!” you continue. “But before he does so, I told him that he should dye his hair to go undercover.”

“Oh my god,” Wanda says, putting her head in her hand as she tries to stop her overwhelming urge to fall to the floor in hysterics.

The two of you break out into a fit of laughter together, and in the heat of the moment, you wrap one of your arms around her shoulder and place your palm there and hold her hand with the other.

“If we can get him to drive to Connecticut, and put peroxide in his hair,” you continue through your laughter, the two of you unable to stop your giggles.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart drops as you hear the sound of Wanda’s fiance. Stopping your laughter immediately, you take a big step away from Wanda and turn your head, making direct eye contact with Vision.

“What are you trying to cop a feel or something, L/N?” he asks in anger.

“No, no, no-” you try to explain.

Vision’s anger overcomes him further and he starts to stalk towards you in rage. You take a couple steps back in fear away from him.

“Vis! Hey, hey, stop!” Wanda interrupts, putting herself between the two of you and placing the palm of her hand on Vision’s chest.

Wanda looks at you wide-eyed as Vision continues to glare daggers at you.

“God, I don’t even know how to explain this,” you say awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. Whether that was in fear or nervousness you didn’t know, but this was definitely not an ideal situation. “Um,” you clear your throat. “Sam asked me to be in an alliance,” you state, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “And, um, we were, we’ve just been messing with him, you know, because of the whole alliance thing.”

“Yeah, it’s just office pranks,” Wanda explains to her fiance, rubbing his arm to calm him down.

“Exactly, it’s just office pranks,” you agree.

“An alliance, what the hell is he talking about?” Vision asks Sam who stands by the fake tree.

You look at Sam, silently apologizing and urging to explain the situation.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sam replies, ignoring the situation before him and plopping down at his desk to make his sales calls.

Your mouth parts slightly in shock.

Vision looks at you angrily. “C’mon,” he tells Wanda, shoving her in the direction of the door while never breaking eye contact with you. Wanda tries to give you an apologetic look as she walks out but you don’t manage to meet her gaze as her fiance continues to intimidate you.

Once Wanda’s outside, Vision stalks even closer to you, and at this point you’re nearly completely back to back with the wall. “You know she’s not gay, right?” he tells you venomously.

Gulping, you nod.

He narrows his eyes at you in anger, before finally deciding to walk out and follow his fiance.

Standing awkwardly at Wanda’s empty receptionist’s desk, you walk quietly towards the ledge and lean onto your elbows, and sigh softly into your hands.

part 5

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel

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mrchiipchrome · 7 months ago

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You Always Go To The Parties

W.C. - 5.7 k

okay so this is the project i've been working on for a little, hope y'all like it:) (also listen to American Wedding by Frank Ocean while y'all read this.)

To clarify, this is a lionesses x r series too, but this is literally just the chapter of introduction so that we can get to know the characters.

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“Do I really have to go? I can’t even drink legally here.” You groan, there was nothing stopping you from collecting your things and getting the hell out of that apartment in Boston, well except the manners instilled in you from an early age. There was nothing you’d like more than to crawl up in bed and sleep for the next few weeks.

No way Emma would let you do that.

The sophomore defender had been one of the only people that had come back to college early, having been asked to show you around the campus and the facilities. She had quickly taken you under her wing, which meant that she wouldn’t let you sulk in bed the rest of August.

Brown cardboard boxes filled to the brim with different things, ranging from clothes to knick knacks, were stacked to the ceiling in the otherwise empty apartment. You didn’t mind, clearly, but it bothered Em.

You tuck your hands behind your head, staring up at the ceiling from your mattress that was placed directly on the floor. Your button up had the first few buttons undone, the top of your chest displayed for Em to see, you had even put your fancy trousers on for the stupid party you didn’t even want to attend.

“Yes, you really have to. How else do you expect to make friends, your cute British accent will only get you that far, you actually need to put in some effort okay?” Rolling your eyes at her words, you were quickly made to get up off the makeshift bed, getting pushed towards the door.

“But-”

“No buts, you are going because I need someone to drive me home when I’m black out drunk tonight, you don’t want me to drink and drive right?” You can’t help but contemplate over her words, feeling the girl’s hand come down on your shoulder harshly.

Clearly she didn’t like that.

“I mean you could just, I don't know…not drink?” She looks at you like she’s disgusted you’d even think about saying something like that, like she has to drink.

“Wow, it really is obvious your parents are rich.” You lock the door up as you look at her through the corner of your eye, a slightly judgemental look in your eyes.

Your parents were rich, but they didn’t spoil you so you weren’t one of those snobby rich kids, you were just like anyone else. Only you had access to more money than most.

“Shut up.” Emma puts her hands up in the air, like she’s surrendering to you, but you see the way she’s smiling slyly at you. Note to self; don’t get defensive when Em brings up your rich parents.

“You know, I could use a new Gucci bag if you want to contact daddy dear.” She looks up at you pleadingly as you make your way to her car, there was no way you’d use your car, it was far too expensive to be left outside a frat house. You really had to get a more beat up one.

Maybe you’d sell it, and donate the money you got for it to charity.

“Aw, we’re taking my car?” Em whines, clearly she wanted to take your cool car.

“Aw, I’m not leaving my really expensive car outside of a frat house for hours.” You roll your eyes at her almost like she’s stupid, throwing her the keys so that she could drive, you didn’t even know where it was you were going.

“You know, you are really sassy for being a rich kid.” Em pulls out of the garage, the apartment complex you were living in was just off campus, so near that you walked there every day for pre-pre-season training (absolutely destroying Em every single time without fail).

“Yeah well, I grew up in the public education system in London, so that’s where I get it from.” You look on as the girl in the driver’s seat taps her fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn green.

“Really, I would’ve thought that they had you in private school from the second you popped out.” The green light stands out against the quickly darkening sky, starless and rather bleak, but that’s what you get for living in a big city.

“Nope, they wanted me to have a normal childhood, so here I am.” You motion to yourself, feeling the bumps and dips of the road beneath you, damn potholes.

“I mean fair enough right.” A certain quietness envelops the space between the two of you, it wasn’t uncomfortable, just present without any real purpose.

Your eyes slip shut, with Em turning the radio on, playing soft instrumental music like you weren’t in the middle of Boston where most people prefer hip hop and bubblegum pop. That was probably the biggest culture shock you'd been given so far, the music.

At home it was different, in a neutral way. It was neither better nor was it worse, but it was simply different.

You sink into your seat, the cool air blasting across your skin in that refreshing way, the summer’s heat canceled out by the air coming from the car. Slowly, sleep starts to take over your body in that calming sort of way that you’d wished for earlier.

It had only felt like moments since you’d fallen asleep as Em shakes your shoulders to get you to wake up, the pulsing music coming from the frat house a walking distance away already making your ears hurt. You look around at the surrounding nature, it wasn’t familiar to you, not the trees you’d found yourself memorizing nor the architecture present in Boston.

Even the people looked different, shirts with the printing of a dog on the front instead of the three books representing Harvard. Stupid of you to assume that Em would be rational for once.

“Where are we Em?” You ask, voice riddled with a sleepy kind of innocence that suggested that not everything had registered yet.

“We are in Connecticut, home of the huskies and what might be the best parties you’ll ever experience.” Your eyes shoot open wide, a more than flabbergasted look on your face at her naïve words.

“You kidnapped me and then drove me all the way to Connecticut for a party we could just as well have found in Boston?!” You ask her incredulously, like you couldn’t really believe her. And you couldn’t.

“Yeah, technically I did but you’ll also get to experience the party of your lifetime, so I think that it’s fine.” She tries to justify her actions by trying to reason with you, and whilst it doesn’t work in the way she wishes, Emma’s just happy you’re not totally freaking out.

“Come on grumpy, let’s go. Who knows, you might even have some fun.” Em pulls you along towards the house spewing flashing lights in a hundred different colors.

You let your eyes adjust to the blinking lights as you enter through the open front door, seeing the entire bottom floor of the mansion-like house covered with hundreds of students, packed together tightly like a sweaty sardine can.

The house reeks of bad body wash, moldy pits and strong cheap alcohol, and in a sense of the word Em really did tell the truth, you’d never seen anything like it before. It was almost like those frat boys couldn’t afford to buy deodorant.

If your arm wasn’t as firmly attached to your body as it was, you were sure that Emma would’ve torn it off by now, the resistance of the sweaty bodies pushing against your own as she leads you to the kitchen proving to be a difficult task for her weak arms.

Reaching the entrance of the large kitchen, the first thing you notice is that it’s not as tightly packed as the living room, only a few stragglers here and there with the stereotypical red solo cups can be found in every single person’s hand. Future alcoholists.

“Okay, base rules since you’ve never been to a college party before, don’t take a drink from anyone you don’t know, don’t accept anyone’s request to go upstairs or somewhere private, you’ll most likely get robbed, don’t be too snarky, people don’t appreciate that and… I think that’s all. Have a nice night!” And with that she’s off to the living room, plucking a cup from a random man’s hand and taking a sip before leading him to the dance floor.

Yeah, base rules or whatever.

Standing alone in the kitchen, you suddenly feel so awkward. The only real parties you’d been to were the one’s your friends threw when your parents were away on their stupidly long business trips, just the chaotic friend group drinking together.

So this, college parties, was something that was totally out of your comfort zone and you’d never hated anyone as much as you hated Em right at that moment.

Spotting a boy out of the corner of your eye, you approach him with confident, yet still relatively hesitant steps, a question at the tip of your tongue. He looks up at you when you’re close enough to smell the odor of old spice deodorant and way too much sweat, his hat turned backwards on his head to hide the greasy hair still somehow poking its way through.

You almost feel bad for the poor thing, well that is until his mouth opens and you’re staring into the hell that is a frat boy’s gob.

“‘Sup dude, what can I do for you?” His eyes run all along your body, from your ankles up to your face where he notices the annoyed expression.

“I was wondering if you had anything non alcoholic.” You smile staley, eyebrows furrowing together when his eyes light up like a kid on christmas. His laugh feels slightly insulting, especially when his hand comes up to point at you, but there’s really not a lot you could do.

“Dude totally, say the thing though.” You look at him confused, like you didn’t know what he meant. Spoiler alert; you did. “Y’know bo'ohw'o'wo'er.”

He laughs again when you roll your eyes, and even if all you desire is to punch his stupid face in, you still say the phrase. Was it worth it for a coke? Eh, debatable.

He opens the fridge and throws you the can and laughs once more at your dirty look.

Sipping the drink slowly as you make your way around the house, the UConn students around you stare unashamedly at you, like they knew your face from somewhere, but you weren’t familiar per se.

Your face scrunches up at the metallic taste of the American coke, much preferring the Mexican one they had in the canteen. You couldn’t complain too much though, you were the one who actually let yourself get dragged to the party.

It’s sudden, the way her eyes catch yours. Deep pools of endearing brown that capture your entire soul in a single second. The girl was mesmerizing as she stood leaning against the wall across from you, her long brown hair falling so effortlessly down her back.

Her gaze is just focussed on you for a second or two, her attention soon being stolen by the man standing in front of her, a sleazy smirk on his face as his eyes ran all along her body. It was clear that she was uncomfortable purely by the way her lips were turned downwards and the way her hands fiddled with the hem of her crop top.

There seems to be a lull in their one sided conversation as she looks to you almost pleadingly, getting the hint almost immediately, you walk over with confident steps, dropping the now empty can on the floor on the way.

The man is almost as tall as you, his burly shoulders disproportionate to the rest of his awkward body, his meaty hands gripping the red cup tightly like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. His hooded eyes do a once over when he spots you nearing them, almost turning a green pale at the sight of you.

You don’t understand why, there was no way you knew him and being recognised as Harvard’s newest addition would be unlikely. Especially in Connecticut.

“Everything alright here?” The girl seems startled by your accent, but she quickly schools her features so as to not show her surprise. Her hands wrap around your waist, and when you look down at her she looks back up at you with pleading eyes, asking you to just go along with it for the time being.

Your arm wraps around her shoulders and she leans into your body almost subconsciously, like you’ve known each other for much longer than you have.

“Yeah, everything’s going good.” He says, not backing down despite having been nervous at your mere presence only seconds before.

“Really? Because from where I stood it looked like you were flirting with my girlfriend.” You don’t even get the satisfaction of watching his gummy smile fade from his thin lips as he takes in your words, because he walks away from you before you can see it.

It makes you chuckle, especially since he walks up to another girl almost immediately, getting turned down in the same second.

“You okay?” You question the girl in your arms, her hand still resting on your waist as you take her in. You can feel her hair against your arm, her nails digging into your skin ever so slightly and the rest of her body pressed so tightly against your own.

“Yeah, he just wouldn’t leave me alone, thank you for the help.” She smiles at you sweetly, her brown eyes shining under the flashing lights. You smile back at her softly, noticing the way her grip loosens, you quickly let up on your grip of her shoulders.

Her unsure steps catch your attention as she takes your hand in her soft one, just like Em had done earlier in the evening.

“Where are you taking me?” You laugh through the sentence as she tries to pull you through the crowd of people, stumbling over her feet clumsily every so often.

“Do you like burgers?” She questions hastily, nearly having pulled you all the way to the front door already, she was a lot stronger than Em that’s for sure.

"Doesn't everyone?” You smile goofily when she looks back at you, her eyes narrowed playfully when you send her a wink. It’s only when you’re already out the door that you realize that Em is still in there, with people you don't know. Strangers.

You stop walking, the girl’s hand still in yours as she too stops, looking back at you confused.

“I’m sorry but my friend, Em, is still in there and I don’t want to leave her alone with strangers.” Her eyes light up again and you look at her weirdly, not understanding why she looked so happy that you had to leave.

“Em Whitmore?” She giggles at the shocked look on your face, clearly you didn’t know much about Em, the girl thinks to herself. You look at her suspiciously, how did she know Em?

“Yeah…how’d you know?” You ask her, still suspicious of her pretty intoxicated form. Her laugh carries all throughout the empty night, no one out and about except you and the mystery girl who’s soft hand is still in yours.

“I know her brother, she comes to a lot of parties here, because she knows she’ll be safe.” The brunette starts pulling you along again and you let yourself follow her, no longer worried about your Harvard counterpart. Her brother wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

By the time you reach the 50’s themed diner, you’ve already walked for ten minutes, side by side with the dark haired girl. You’re lucky that it wasn’t too far away, the half stumbling girl beside you probably wouldn’t have been able to walk that far without falling over.

The bell at the top of the door chimes when she pushes it open, the bored looking cashier perking up when he sees your companion. It was empty in the diner and you couldn’t imagine that keeping it open for this long wasn’t only for the drunk college students looking for a quick snack.

She drags you over to a booth in the corner, decorated in red and white stripes, a glass with straws standing in the middle of the table with a napkin holder beside it.

“Welcome to Donna’s Diner, what can I get for you?” The boy from the counter comes up to the booth after you’ve both settled, handing the two of you plastic menus. The dark haired girl smiles up at him, that fantastic glint in her eye once more.

“Come on now Alex, no need to be all professional.” You look up at him from where you’re sitting, his blonde hair curling around his ears, green eyes staring into yours kindly, thin fingers clasping the small notebook in his hands.

“Alex, this is my new friend, she knows Callum’s little sister, mystery friend, this is Alex and he’s in one of my classes.” You smile at him softly, sticking your hand out for him to shake, and he does take it in a confident grip, sending you a smile of his own.

“I’m Y/n.” Now the mystery girl looks up at you, finally a name attached to your face.

“Nika, I already know what you want, but how about you?” He looks to you when he speaks, obviously you wouldn’t know what to order, it being your first time there and all.

“I’ll just have whatever she’s having with a chocolate milkshake.” Alex disappears behind the counter again, your eyes following his retreating form. Looking away from the kitchen door, your eyes quickly meet the ones of the girl you now know as Nika.

One of her hands was tucked under her chin, keeping her head up in order to look at you. Relaxing into the cushions behind you, the small smile slowly taking over your face suddenly becomes full blown.

“What is it?” She giggles under her breath at your inquisitive look, and despite not knowing much more than her name, you already felt like she knew your soul inside and out.

“Nothing…it’s just that this is the last place I would’ve thought that you would bring me to.” The furrow in her brow is frankly quite adorable, her head turning to the side just in time to catch Alex walking out the kitchen with your food.

You see the way her eyes light up again, the platter of pure greasy goodness at the center of her attention right at that moment. All you could think about at that second was how thankful you were that the season hadn’t started yet, because everything there broke every single diet you could think of.

Looking to the brunette, the laugh bubbling up from the pit of your stomach is almost one of wonder, because the beautiful girl had already managed to get through half the burger that was in front of her. It seemed like her intoxicated brain only was focussed on one thing, satiating her hunger.

It isn’t long until you follow her lead, picking up the burger and just trying to get the most you could of it in your mouth. You can’t help the groan that escapes you when the exquisite flavours hit your taste buds all at once, having to lean back into the cushions of the booth to be able to take it all in, closing your eyes fully to enhance the experience even further.

It’s only when she laughs that you finally open your eyes again, only to see her looking right at you like you were made of glass, like she could read you like a book and then play you like a fiddle.

“I understand, I had the exact same reaction when I tried it.” She continues to giggle at you when you start to eat like a poor man starved. It was a funny sight to be fair, the way your fancy act completely disappears when in contact with amazing food.

“How’d you even find this place?” You question her when you’ve swallowed and wiped your mouth off with a napkin, you still had manners after all. She smiles at you, gesturing at your surroundings, at the tables and the booths, the chairs and the ketchup bottles, at everything.

“I was drunk after a party once in freshman year and I just stumbled across it.” You nod in response, completely understanding the randomness of how she’d found the place. When you’re drunk, all you want is some greasy food.

“So it’s a well guarded secret between the students then? I assume there’s usually more people here at this time of night.” You take a sip of the milkshake when the last word has fallen from your lips, heat spreading across your face at the intense look you’re getting from the brunette in front of you.

It’s probably just because she’s drunk, you think quietly to yourself, almost trying to convince your mind that the stupidly attractive smile on her face was just one of momentary value, that it was only because it was late and you were tired that it affected you in the way it did.

“Yeah, something like that.” She responds, a comfortable silence enveloping you two as you continue to eat.

The only thing that could be heard was the murmur of the fan across the room, the patting of the fingers of the boy, Alex, at the counter and the sound of shallow breathing. Well that was until her accented voice breaks it with a question.

“So, how’d you manage to befriend the girl with the scariest brother ever?” Nika asks you, her fingers playing with the napkin she’d taken only moments before. Her teeth capture her bottom lip softly as she looks at you tentatively, she’s positively driving you nuts with her pure unfiltered beauty.

“Well, for starters we both play football for Harvard, but she was the first one there to greet me, to help me pack up the necessities and all that. She never did mention a brother though.” You relish in the way she looks at you, all flustered and sweet despite you not having done anything in particular. It was adorable. Pause.

She nods absentmindedly, opening her mouth to speak before closing it and then opening it again, resembling a fish out of water more than anything.

“Were you going to say something love?” You ask the now blushing girl, and she hides her face in her hands at the embarrassment, clearly having zoned out for a little while there.

Reaching over, you pat her shoulder comfortingly before you ask her your next question.

“How about you? How do you know Em’s brother?” Nika reaches over the table to steal a few of your fries, laughing at the betrayed look on your face.

Maybe it was the drinks or maybe you were just funnier than you’d originally thought, either way the angelic sound of her laughing had graced your ears many times that evening. Not that you minded, you didn’t even mind a little bit.

“He plays basketball, I play basketball, and sometimes we train together.” You can’t help the feeling taking over you, the burning feeling that makes you question everything you’d ever known about yourself. Just the thought of your friend’s brother getting to enjoy her company makes the feeling inside you that much worse.

It seems like she sees the way your expression changes just that little bit before it goes back to normal.

“So, you’re like…close?” You ask the basketball player timidly, rolling your eyes only seconds later when the brunette decides to take a sip of your milkshake.

“No, not especially close. I mean, we talk when we have to at the shared training sessions, but not outside of it. But realistically though, who in the world of college sports doesn’t know Callum Whitmore?” Looking at her cluelessly, you sarcastically shrug as if to say you, because you truly hadn’t known a single thing about the man before she had told you.

By the third time Nika reaches for your fries, you decide to just push them towards her and let her have them, you weren’t even hungry after the monster burger you’d just consumed. It wasn’t at all just because she was too pretty not to get whatever she wanted. Pause.

“You want to switch?” She gestures to your drinks, she’d gotten a strawberry milkshake that she didn’t seem to fancy all that much right at that moment. Sighing goodnaturedly, you give her a nod and allow her to take whatever was left of your shake, smiling softly as you sip absentmindedly at the pink shake she’d given you.

Soon enough, the only thing that could be heard over the natural noise of the diner was the slight slurping every so often.

“I just got to go wash up, then I’ll walk you home, okay?” The brunette nods as she looks at you leaving, pulling out her phone to seemingly start to text someone not long after.

You walk up to Alex, who’s still standing at the counter and he smiles in your direction when you near, only seeing you out of the corner of his eye. Pulling out your wallet, you hold out your card to him.

“Could you do a to go order? God knows she’ll need that in the morning.” You nod your head in Nika’s direction, Alex smiling widely at you.

“You know, I’ve never seen her with you before…” His voice trails off, as if to tell you to fill in the blanks.

“Yeah, we only met tonight.” You smile at him staley, not understanding why the timeline of events was so important.

“You must be special then if she brought you here, it’s not often she brings anyone other than her friends here after a night out. Nico, drop me two burgers on the grill, one choc milkshake and a strawberry one.” As you walked towards the bathroom of the establishment, putting your card back in your wallet, you started to think about his words, wasn’t this place well known? What made it so special to Nika that the server had to point out how she never brought strangers there?

Wiping your hands off on your trousers, you go up to your table to collect Nika before swinging by the counter to pick up your to-go order, the brown paper bag looking out of place next to the two of you. It seems like she’s sobered up at least a little as she looks at you questioningly, her eyes soon falling to the bag in your hands and then back up at your face.

The bell chimes again when the two of you exit the diner, the cooling air of the late night a contrast to the warm atmosphere of the diner.

“What’s that for?” The furrow in her brow is so endearing that you almost feel the skip in your heartbeat, her eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. Her arm threads through yours, one of your hands in the pocket of your trousers, creating the perfect space for her arm to go through.

You sneak a glance at her, flyaways being highlighted by the streetlights you were passing. Her head meets your shoulder as you start to walk back to the party, her apartment couldn’t be too far from it considering she hadn’t mentioned anything when you offered to walk her home.

“It’s for you, I just know that hungover Nika is going to crave Donna’s diner’s milkshakes to calm her raging headache.” You tease her softly, but there was definite truth there either way.

If there was one thing you knew about being hungover, then it was that good food usually helped at least a little (well, after the spells of throwing up everything from the previous night.) You give her a cheeky smile as you near the party once more, the booming music being heard from miles away.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” She speaks sincerely, you just smile at her in response, did you have to do it? No, but she’d kept you company all night so you did it anyway.

“Hey, can I just stop by my friend’s car before I walk you home? I just have to get something.” You were so thankful that you’d stolen the keys from Em before you went into the party only hours before. Leading her to the beat up truck, unlocking it and opening the door, you place the bag on the ground before you look through the glove compartment.

Finding the cartridge of painkillers and the pen that you were searching for with a small ‘aha’. The post-it notes Em always kept in her car finally came to use when you stole one, writing a quick message on it before sticking it to the plastic of the painkillers and dropping it down the brown paper bag.

You lock the car up, despite it being a piece of shit that no one would ever steal, Em always insisted on you locking it.

Walking up to her side once more, you open your mouth to speak.

“So, lead the way home love.” You gesture for her to take the lead, it was her apartment after all. Taking your free hand in hers, the girl starts to lead you towards her apartment building, walking calmly side by side with your hands swinging between your bodies.

After passing countless trees, and even more cars, you suddenly find yourselves at the bottom of the slanted hill leading up to where she lives, and when you actually start to walk up the long walkway, it’s slowly almost like you’re both resisting the natural order of events.

But you had to leave her, both Em and Harvard were waiting for you and no matter how much you tried to resist, you knew that’s ultimately where you had to go, it was your life even if the girl you’d just met seemed far more interesting than anything.

When you reach the top, just meters away from the door, you hand her the bag, smiling timidly when she reached out to hug you, her inviting perfume enveloping you in a blanket of warmth. When she pulls away, she thanks you one last time for your kindness.

“Really, it’s no problem.” You reassure her, smiling softly when she turns back towards you one last time before the distance between you becomes larger and larger, her fingers soon punching in the code to open the door.

“Wait!” You call out for her right as she’s about to enter the building, her head turning back to you questioningly. “Don’t forget to put it in the fridge when you get in.” She smiles and nods before disappearing behind the door.

You start your walk back to the party a few minutes after the door has closed, something just keeping you rooted to the ground. It wasn't until you heard your name get called by that familiar voice that you turned around, seeing Nika through her open window, waving at you as you walked away.

It almost felt like you were in some cheesy romance movie as you waved back, turning to walk away after she closed her window.

Truth be told, the evening had felt like something straight out of a romcom and some part deep down loved it. It loved the cheesy moments of pure unbridled love, the ability to express yourself freely, to dance in the rain, be your true authentic self in front of someone else was something you didn’t even know you longed for before you met Nika.

You shove your hands into the pockets of your trousers, every step you take moving you closer and closer to the frat house, closer to Em and closer to getting back to Boston.

Seeing Em sitting out on the steps of the house has you confused, why was she out there?

“Em? What are you doing out here?” You ask the clearly incredibly intoxicated Emma, your loud voice not even startling her, her slow movements showing just how drunk she is. The squeal she lets out when she sees you has you covering your ears, the intrusive sound killing your tired head.

She tries to stand up, but it just looks like Bambi on ice, stumbling and falling at every second. You come up and sling her arm around your shoulder, bringing her over to her car and sitting her down in the passenger seat.

“I’m not cleaning up if you throw up in here, just so you know.” She nods drunkenly, clearly not understanding a word you were saying.

“The reason why I was sitting outside is a long story.” She leans her head against the window, and knowing Em, she was probably imagining herself in a music video right at that moment.

“You can tell me tomorrow.” The car starts with a rumble and you pull out of the parking space on the side of the road, quickly pulling out and starting to drive on the main road.

It’s quiet for a while and you almost believe that Emma’s asleep, well almost since her feet move back and forth against the floor every so often.

“Where were you huh? What were you doing?” Her words are incredibly slurred and you can barely make out what it is she’s trying to say.

“None of your business mate.” She snickers at you, reading way too much into your response than she should have.

“You got some.” The way your face turns red doesn’t help your case even in the slightest, especially when she herself points out your reddening cheeks.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Em.” Your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, still embarrassed by her insinuation.

“Mhm, you totally got some pussy.” You sigh as she laughs again, she was clearly getting a lot more joy from the situation than you were.

“Go to sleep Em.”

“Mhm.”

Maybe she had been right after all, maybe you had fun and maybe, just maybe the decision to go to the party was a good one. Not that you’d ever let her know that.

#woso x reader #woso #lionesses #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #uconn wbb #wbb x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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smoothriverrocksrock · 2 months ago

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GOD I WOULD KILL FOR TF1 DECEPTICON BEE!! The thought of him not wanting to leave Megatron alone after something so horrific warms my heart. I need a fic of them becoming friends. (do you have any more headcanons?)

I really hope to get to writing a fic for this, and I’ll definitely link it if I do! Kinda busy with other fics tho and since one is close to finishing I wanna start it after I’m done with that one

Well first and most obvious headcanon is that Bee has to have some MAJOR respect for D-16/Megatron purely because of that scene with him standing up to Sentinel. Genuinely, seeing Bee watch that had me in the theaters wondering why tf Bee would be horrified by D-16 killing him. B-127 is a better person than me because of I saw one of my friends get CARVED INTO it would be my last straw

My main idea for a Decepticon tf1 Bee story kinda looks like this (warning this gets LONG):

-He sees Megatron and the High Guard leaving, and he can’t believe it. He just got a friend group, he can’t just let it split apart! Especially not like this!

-With a quick number exchange, Bee tells Elita that he’s going with Megatron and it’s nothing personal he just wants to stay with him ok byeeeee

-Elita is kinda baffled, and Optimus absolutely takes it personally but in a sad “wait what if I’m in the wrong, oh no, now I lost two friends” way. Optimus wants to go after him and Megatron but Elita stops him. They both agree it’s probably best to give them all space and let Bee try and figure it out

-Megatron is also baffled that this guy is coming with him, but he feels relieved that at least *someone* familiar agrees with him. He won’t admit it tho, it’s a cold comfort after everything else that’s happened

-The High guard doesn’t really care rn, they just got banished (AGAIN!) and a friend of their new leader is probably good enough to keep around

-I imagine some of them are probably injured (most importantly Megatron), so Soundwave helps them highjack a train where they can take temporary shelter, get supplies/food, and rest. Starscream finds out the base got blown up and appropriately grieves about the loss of his awesome throne. Shockwave is revealed to be the best thing they have to a doctor. Rough times.

-Bee keeps trying to get Megatron to talk about what just happened, but he refuses. Bee eventually talks about how horrible sublevel 50 was because of the isolation, and promises Megatron that he won’t leave him alone

-Still cold comfort to Megatron. He just lost his longest companion, and he knows Bee could never compare. Bee also realizes this, but he’s trying his best

Lotta places the story could go from there, but I wanna keep it as a “Bumblebee inadvertently becomes the moral backbone of the Decepticons” type of story. I also wanna clarify that Bee is still totally down for murder, he just convinces Megatron to keep the guns pointed at the Quintessons for now

He also shares soooo much Decepticon gossip to Optimus and Elita, but never anything that could ever compromise the Decepticons. He’ll be like “You’ll NEVER guess what Skywarp just said today” and Elita will ask for boring stuff like “where are you based” and “are you eating enough” and Bumblebee refuses to have his friendships compromised by politics. Optimus appreciates this, and does the same. Eventually Elita will conform and send him memes

Also Soundwave and Bee become scout friends. This is the law. Bee is one of the only people who will contribute to the community playlist

#Me asks mateys #transformers one spoilers #transformers #macadam #b-127 #bumblebee #megatron #d-16 #DeceptiBee au

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castiwls · 7 days ago

Text

coach .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Synopsis; your sons tennis coach is the bain of your life. You hated Patrick zweig - that only made you that much more attractive to him.

Requested;

Notes; i feel like i cant write him properly still :( something feels off

Masterlist | coach!au masterlist

“Can Patrick come?”

Your son’s voice cut through the quietness of the car, his head peeking up from the switch in his lap. He sent you his best puppy dog eyes as you met his gaze through the rearview mirror for a moment.

“You want Patrick to come?” You clarified as you raised an eyebrow. He nodded enthusiastically before looking back down to his game. “Mhm.” A long-suffering sigh left your lips as you focused back on the road.

Great.

Of all the people your son could grow an attachment to he’d just had to pick one of the most insufferable guys you’d ever met. It had taken you all of five minutes to decide that you were far from keen on the tennis coach your ex had found for your son.

“I don’t know…” You sighed hoping your son would simply drop the topic. Why did he want his tennis coach to come to dinner anyway? That surely had to be breaking some sort of code, either that or it would just simply cause more drama amongst the other parents at the club.

They already believed your son got special treatment. One mum had once claimed that the two of you must be hooking up at least if the way he looked at you was anything to go by. Sure you’d noticed his less-than-subtle glances as he checked you out - his grin only growing at the scowl he’d get back - but you were not sleeping with him.

“Please.” He pleaded looking back up. “I’ll do the dishes and clean my room?”

The car came to a stop outside the courts. “You do that and you hoover for a week.” You turned in your chair shooting him a look as he nodded. “I mean it.”

“I will. I will.” He nodded so fast you thought he was going to make himself sick for a moment.

Shaking your head with a small smile. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Don’t let this go to your head.” You said taking another sip from your glass. Patrick held his hands up as he found your gaze. “Hey! I’ve been good.” He raised an eyebrow watching you for a moment.

He’d all but jumped at the chance when you’d begrudgingly approached him explaining that your son (for reasons you had no idea) wanted him to come to dinner.

Patrick knew damn well why your son had made that specific request. You were by far the hottest person he’d met at that damn club and your kid was pretty cute too. Maybe he was wrong to bride a 9-year-old with the promise of £20 and a new trick shot but hey! It had worked out for them both.

“Loosen up a little.” He grinned as you placed your drink down. “You’ve been glaring at me for the last hour.”

“I’m trying to will you away.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well, you’re still here so…”

Patrick hummed sitting back in his seat. He pointed a finger at you, waving it around slightly as you frowned. “I know you like me. I know that because otherwise, you would have said no.”

You scoffed. “Just because I’m giving my son something he wants doesn’t mean I liked you.”

Patrick smiled, the same one that made your stomach flip - not that you’d ever admit it. “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

You’d unleashed a monster.

Patrick’s advances had only worsened since that damn dinner. His eyes seemed to linger on your chest for a moment too long as you handed him the cash before dragging your son away ignoring the way you could feel his eyes boring through you.

Other than that he’d been… okay.

Until right now.

“Why are you at my front door?”

“Suprise.” He smiled leaning against the doorway. You leveled him with an unimpressed look at he looked sheepish for all of a minute. “I was just passing by and decided to say hi.”

“Mhm.” You nodded letting out a sigh. “He’s at his dad's.”

“It’s not him I wanted to say hi to.”

Patrick shot a look down your path before peeking over your shoulder and into the house. “Nice house…very you.”

You frowned shifting slightly. “What do you want?”

Patrick huffed rolling his eyes. “God your no fun.”

Part of him loved it. The challenge of cracking that cold exterior just enough to weasel his way in. He’d seen your softer side, the way you acted around your son was almost a polar opposite of the glare you seemed to always be levelling him with.

It was hot.

He was many things and determined was one of them. He would crack your walls if it was the last thing he did.

“I know this is all an act. The whole I hate you thing.” He leaned slightly closer, his forum almost looming over you. “You’re playing hard to get. Other guys might have just called it a day ya know? Been on the end of your glare one too many times and decided to call it quits.” His hand slowly curled around your own.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m just as stubborn as you.”

You hummed, trying to ignore the heat swirling in your stomach because you would not fall to Patrick Zweig’s charms. You’d spent the last year doing everything in your power to keep him away yet he’d somehow weasled his way into your life.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment.

“Oh yeah? I think we can change that.”

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 8 months ago

Note

hi gorgeous!! The way you write james has me thinking non stop about him for days (i need him fr) so on that note, can i please get a request where reader gets jealous for some reason and he doesn’t notice at first cause he only has eyes for her but she kind of gets clingier and a little grumpy so he talks to her and just lots of fluff and cuddles? Thank you <3

thank youu! comments like that make me want to be writing all the time really hope you like it!! sorry i got a little carried away length-wise

a confession among friends: getting called my boyfriend's sister actually happened to me once and i was soo pissed lmao

pairing: James Potter x reader word count: 4.1k (not completely proofread)

Boy-friend

You weren’t much in the mood for a party. No matter how many times Sirius clarified that it was only a “get together,” it was a party. Still, James had wanted to come, and there’d been plenty of times he’d come out because you were the one who felt like it, so you were happy to try to make the most of it.

James comes up behind you now, surprising you and tickling you with no warning. You break out in full laughter but contort to smack him away.

“Stop! stop!” you half laugh, half yell.

“Alright, shortcake, but if I catch you looking grumpy again, you’re gonna get it,” he replies cheekily, giving you a playfully accusatory squint. “Shortcake” wasn’t your favourite of his nicknames, but it had stuck after one night the boys had had way too much to drink and way too much fun making fun of you for being the shortest of the group, not bothering with your contention that it wasn’t fair since you were the only girl.

“I was not looking grumpy.”

“Given I’m the one who could see what you looked like, not you, I think my word counts for more here.”

“What are you two on about?” Sirius interrupts, wrapping an arm around James’s shoulders in their typically brotherly way.

“Was or was she not looking grumpy just now?” James asks.

“Was,” Sirius nods affirmatively.

“Whatever, you losers,” you roll your eyes at them. “Anyway, if I’m looking bored” — you glare at them before either corrects your word choice — “I feel justified in blaming the host of the party,” you smirk at Sirius.

“It’s not a party; it’s a get t—“

“A get together,” you both finish for him.

“Yes, yes, we know, mate,” James laughs. “Lots of people in your flat for a ‘get together,’ don’t you think?”

“Well, I’ve just made lots of cool friends recently. Thought it’d be nice for them to meet each other,” he shrugs.

“Always so generous,” you tease.

“‘Course,” he shrugs. “How else are you two annoyingly romantic recluses going to meet anyone new? You never leave your flat.”

“We do so,” you try, but it sounds damningly defensive. You cringe before Sirius can pounce and add, “Well, we’re here now aren’t we?”

“Fair. Glad you’ve graced me with your presence, L/N,” Sirius smiles.

Just then a small toy football whizzes past Sirius’s head.

“Oi!” he yells, turning towards the source of the projectile. “No indoor football!” Then he grins his characteristically wolfish smile. “Not before I get to pick teams! I am host after all.” He grabs you by the wrist, dragging you with him. When you begin to object, he just shushes you with, “Weren’t you just complaining about being bored?”

James comes too, no dragging necessary. You’re surprised to find Remus, usually so responsible, in the midst of the ball game crowd.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles, shrugging and telling you, “It’s Sirius’s flat. Do you think we’d even be able to tell if something got damaged?” He looks around at the messy space.

You all start what was initially some kind of football game, but it just devolves into a drunken monkey in the middle situation.

You get stuck in the middle, for frustratingly longer than most. It’s not fair Remus is so tall, and James so athletic. When you’ve finally had enough, you jump at James when he catches the ball, wrapping your arms around him, not even going for the ball.

“Hey!” he yells as he’s laughing. “Ref! Foul!” He shakes you loose, not without a fight from you. “That’s not the game,” he chides you. He lifts the ball high, and you make the mistake of reaching for it, obviously having no chance. “Gotta try better than that.” He hasn’t stopped laughing as you jump up and down like an idiot.

“I give up,” you announce, winded but smiling slightly.

“Such a sore loser,” he teases, ruffling your hair a bit and giving you a gentle playful push.

“Whatever,” you push him back. “I’m thirsty. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Catch up in a sec.”

“‘Kay.”

He throws the ball over your head at a ready Sirius as you weave your way to the kitchen.

You lean on the counter, drinking some water. You look back over toward your silly boyfriend and best friends, who are still playing the game, but your view is mostly blocked by a couple of girls who are also watching the shenanigans. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but they’re standing very close to you.

“He’s so cute,” says one of them, a strikingly attractive girl in heels that make her a whole head taller than the other girl.

“Why am I not surprised? You have such a specific type,” laughs her friend.

The gorgeous girl just shrugs, owning it with no shame.

Having witnessed your fair share of such reactions, you automatically assume they’re talking about Sirius. You just smile and roll your eyes, used to it.

Soon the boys are over the antics too even though the game continues without them, and they come get some water as well. James stands next to you as he downs his glass. He bumps his shoulder against yours, a common gesture between you.

The girls turn toward your group now, and the especially pretty one says, “Thanks again for inviting us, Sirius. If I’d realized it was going to get so… physical” — she emphasizes the word seductively, as she nods back to where they had just been throwing the ball — “I wouldn’t’ve worn such high heels.” She kicks her foot back a bit, as if to show the heels she’s blaming, but you don’t miss her turn into it, showing off her (amazing) body.

Sirius just grins knowingly, unfazed.

“You could always take them off,” he suggests nonchalantly.

She giggles and retorts, “But they look so good on me.”

You can’t help but think it’s incredible people actually just talk to each other this way. You feel like you’re watching a movie, sure you’d never feel bold enough to say something like that unless the other person knew it was your line. You’d never been particularly good at flirting, and getting together with James since back at school, you hadn’t had the need in a long time. Even with James, though, you’d never talked like this, not back then, not now. You were glad you didn’t feel the need; everything just came naturally when it came to James. He used to make you nervous from how much you liked him, sure, but for years, you’d become completely comfortable with him. The closest you came to flirting was your quite frequent teasing, but you teased Sirius and Remus as well, and they you.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” The girl’s question breaks you from your thoughts, drawing your gaze to her. Her gaze, you come to find, is not on Sirius, but on James. Directly, aggressively on James.

Oh god. Maybe it wasn’t Sirius after all.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Sirius says, typically theatrical. “Lads, this is Jules and…” Jules introduces her friend, but you miss her name as a group of people near you laugh loudly. “And these are my best mates, Remus, James, and Y/N,” he gestures at each of you in turn. “We go back to our school days,” he adds kind of adorably.

“Oh, how cute!” says Jules.

Ok, not that adorably. You cringe internally at her then feel a bit guilty for disliking this girl for very little reason. Well, maybe there was a reason… but it wasn’t one you felt often.

She hasn’t stopped staring at James the whole time, and you steal a glance at him now. He’s pouring himself more water, quite unaffected. He looks at her only when she addresses him directly.

“You were so good at… whatever you all were doing over there,” she giggles. “James. It was James, right?”

Oh please. She obviously remembered.

“Yeah,” James smiles, wiping some water that had condensed around his glass. “Thanks,” he chuckles and shrugs. “Not much competition, though,” he adds teasingly, shoving Sirius on one side of him and splashing your face with the water droplets lingering on his fingers on the other.

“Oh don’t be mean,” she says exaggeratedly, playfully hitting his shoulder.

You are not a fan of how angry such minimal contact makes you.

“I thought you put up a really good fight against someone so tall and clearly athletic,” she says to you, looking back toward James at the end of her sentence.

James just laughs lightly and, turning to you, bumping your shoulder, asks, “What do you think, shortcake? You think you put up a good fight?” His tone is all teasing.

“You two are too cute,” says Jules.

Weird angle for her obvious flirting, you think.

“Is this your sister?” she asks, pointing between the two of you.

Oh god. You are simultaneously mortified and infuriated.

Sirius breaks out laughing, saying, “I told you I bet other people play siblings or dating with you two when we go out.”

James starts saying something, but just then, the ball from the continued game hits the counter right next to you, knocking over a bunch of water glasses and startling you all.

“Alright,” Sirius chuckles. “Maybe enough with this shit.” He grabs the ball and goes to toss it in a closet. James goest to dry his arm where it got splashed. Remus starts cleaning up the mess. A loudly apologetic bloke you don’t know comes over to help.

The slight chaos has moved the conversation away from what was just happening, and you have no idea how to clarify things without being incredibly awkward.

His sister? What the fuck? Did this girl really not mind being a total bitch to get what she wanted or, worse, did she actually think you were siblings? Did you look like siblings to the rest of the world? Should it bother you so much if you did?

You’re reeling, and start thinking back to what could’ve given her that impression. Your stomach sinks at the realization of so much playful bumping, hair ruffling, and the like. You can’t remember kissing James once tonight. Maybe this isn’t out of the ordinary, with your slight aversion to PDA, but not once? You realize also how many of your gestures toward James you’d also done toward Sirius. How much they behaved similarly not just with you but with each other. Oh god. Were you that sisterly?

You panic, reach for a kitchen towel, and start drying your damp boyfriend, getting way too close and speaking way too loudly when you say, “Let me help you with that, baby.”

James is a little taken aback. You never call him baby. In fact, though his calling you pet names is common, the reverse is rare. You usually stick with “Jamie” … or some dumb teasing insult like “loser.”

“Uh, it’s fine,” he chuckles confusedly. “Wasn’t that much.” You nod and put the towel down. “You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” you say too quickly.

You glance toward Jules to gauge her reaction, but she’s busy also drying off, her friend having gotten the worst of it, and you’re not sure whether she heard you.

“Wanna go sit down? I’m tired,” you tell James, dragging him by the hand, which you don’t let go of even after he’s clearly following you, back to the living room.

You pull him down to the couch, where you proceed to sit way too close to him despite there being more room on your other side and wind your arm under his as you continue to hold his hand. You kiss his cheek as he settles in.

He’s smiling but asks, “What’s with you, love?”

“Nothing,” you say, but your voice sounds off even to you. You kiss him again, and even more confusion seeps into his smile.

You’re trying to think of something “couple-y” to do but come up with absolutely nothing, an awkward air arising between the two of you as you squirm. You literally cannot remember the last time you felt awkward with him, and now you add feeling guilty into the mix. At your insecurities, at your jealousy, at his slight discomfort, you’re not even sure at what, but it’s awful.

“You sure you’re alright, sweetheart? You’re all tense, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost circulation in my hand at this point,” he chuckles. You notice your grip is vice-like.

His tone is light, but yours is not as you snap, “I’m just holding your hand. I’m your girlfriend; that shouldn’t be weird.”

His smile fades quickly as he answers, “Uh… I didn’t say it was weird, Y/N. Just too tight?” It sounds like a question, but that’s probably just because he seems very confused overall.

“Right. Sorry.” Your voice is much softer now as you let go of his hand.

“It’s fine. Obviously. I just… Um…” He’s searching for what to say, wanting to comfort you but unsure what you even needed comforting from. He opts for just reaching for your hand again, straining a smile though his eyebrows remain in a confused furrow.

“You wanna go disorganize Sirius’s beloved record collection?” he asks mischievously.

“No, not really,” you say softly, not feeling like a prank right now even though you usually did.

“Um, ok.” James looks a bit awkward. “You hungry?”

“No.”

“Right.” A silence. “Let’s just sit here then,” he says, probably a bit more sarcastically than intended.

“Is that so bad? Do we always have to be doing something for me to be fun?” you shoot, standing up. “Why don’t you go find Sirius or Remus, James. I’m sure it won’t even make a difference.” You turn away angrily, but he follows you up quickly and stops you.

“Whoah, what’s up, shortcake?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Don’t call me that. It sounds like you’re teasing your little sister.”

You see something in his eyes at the word “sister,” but you turn and keep trying to walk away before you have time to really analyse it.

James is following you but he has to weave between a group of people you managed to avoid, so you get to the bathroom before he catches up. He knocks a second later.

“Y/N? Can we talk please?” You don’t say anything. “Come on, Y/N. Let me in. Or you come out.” You lean against the door but still don’t say anything.

“I just want to know you’re okay,” he says more softly this time.

“I’m fine,” you say, softly too. “I just need a second, okay? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

“Alright, love, but just come back quick, alright?”

You’re not even really sure what you’re doing in here. You just need to collect yourself, you guess. You fiddle with some stuff on the sink then find yourself looking in the mirror.

An ugly thought arises, and you hate it, trying to push it away. It comes back anyway.

She’s much prettier than me…

That distorted inner voice doesn’t stop there.

And better at being a girl.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you whisper out loud to yourself. “Completely ridiculous.”

You wash your hands even though you haven’t used the toilet, shaking your head, your gaze fixed on your hands. Then you go back out into the party.

James is across the room, talking to Remus, but staring at the door you just came out of. As soon as he sees you, he pats Remus on the shoulder, saying something quickly, and starts moving toward you.

He’s stopped in the middle of the room by a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. It’s attached to Jules, of course, and your glare hardens. You’re too far away to hear what she says to him, her hand lingering on him.

James shakes his head a bit at whatever she’s saying, his eyes coming back toward you quickly. He gives her a glance again and a nod then his hand comes to her shoulder. You’re eyes are glued to where they connect, and so your gaze follows the motion of James’s hand gently pushing her body aside. A moment later, it detaches as he continues walking toward you. You haven’t moved when he reaches you.

“Hey,” he says simply.

“Hi,” you return. You look away from his face, shy and confused about what to tell him.

His hand gently guides your chin back up, and you lose yourself in his beautiful eyes for a second. He gives you his warmest smile, and you give him a pitiful but sincere one back.

“You wanna talk about what the hell just happened?” he laughs lightly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you try. You’re not sure you want it to be, but you’re too embarrassed to explain and would take any option that meant you didn’t have to.

“Actually, it wasn’t,” he chuckles. “When you got weird, I thought it was just because you didn’t want to come tonight,” he starts. “But I still didn’t understand the specific… I don’t know, kind? of weird you got.” His lips quirk into a teasing-adjacent smile here, but your face immediately contorts in embarrassment. You cover it with your hand, but James quickly removes yours with his. “Hey, hey, no, sorry. I’m sorry. It’s alright, lovely.” He caresses your hand he’s still holding. “I’m not teasing, okay?” He smiles at you, and you just keep watching him, but your face relaxes a bit. “Then,” he exhales dramatically, “Remus asked me how you reacted to that girl flirting with me right in front of you then calling you my sister.” He grimaces.

Thank God for Remus, you think, the only emotionally aware man you’ve ever met.

“I hadn’t noticed the first part, sweetheart,” James adds. “The flirting part, I mean. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I mean, she didn’t know I had a girlfriend — clearly — but I would’ve just told her I did if that ball hadn’t hit us.”

“She was really into you,” you say before thinking, unsure where that’s supposed to take the conversation.

“Was she? Huh.” He sounds slightly amused, but you know he’s acting to amuse you.

“You really couldn’t tell?” you ask him. There’s disbelief in your voice, but you’re smiling a bit at him. He takes a step closer to you.

“I mean, I guess in retrospect, it makes sense,” he says honestly. “But I guess I’m out of practice,” he laughs. “And more importantly, I don’t care who’s really into me because I’m really into you, you silly girl.”

You exhale, your heart warming and most of your heavy emotions leaving you. You squeeze his hand, and shaking your head at yourself, bring it to rest on his chest. James chuckles into your hairline, kissing the top of your head and holding it close, his fingers interweaving into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your mouth squished against him.

You can feel him shake his head since he’s resting it on yours.

“No need,” he smiles. “I’m sorry. Was quite daft.” You laugh into his chest. You wipe away a tiny tear you’d been about to shed then rest your hand on his chest. The image reminds you, and you jolt upright, looking into his face again. He looks startled but amused.

“What?”

“What was she saying to you? Just now?” You nod toward where they’d been talking. He laughs a full laugh.

“She was telling me we should ditch this get together and go to her place.” He wiggles his eyebrows goofily.

“Jamieee,” you scold, smacking his chest. He grabs hold of your hand and holds it to his heart, thumb caressing the back of it. His other hand still at the nape of your neck.

“She was telling me,” he leans in conspiratorially, “‘sorry for not realizing your girlfriend was your girlfriend,’” he chuckles again. “I guess your little show worked afterward.”

“And what’d you say?”

“Does it matter?” It’s not harsh; he’s all warmth now. Knowing him, you realize he probably just doesn’t see the point of lingering.

“I just want to know,” you say.

“I said I didn’t care and it was fine or something.” He shrugs. “Can’t remember my exact words. Had more important things — a more important person — on my mind, to be honest.” He smiles at you. You smile back.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you too,” he replies with a laugh as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So much,” he adds, a bit more seriously, and kisses your forehead.

You just stand there, close to each other, your head back on his chest, his arms around you, for a few moments.

Then, leaning back to look at his face, you ask seriously, “Do you really?”

He looks confused by your question, its sincerity. “Of course I do. I adore you. You don’t know that?” His question has more than a tinge of hurt under it.

“No,” you chuckle. But before he can get the wrong idea, you quickly continue, “Of course I know that.” You smile earnestly, and he seems comforted. “I mean, do you really not care? That she couldn’t tell I was your girlfriend?” Your voice grows softer and softer as you ask, and it’s a mere whisper by the end.

“No, sweetheart,” he smiles. “I don’t. I know. And you know. Who cares what other people think?”

“I did,” you scold yourself. “I’m sorry I got so weird. I just… I got really insecure about being just like Sirius or Remus to you. I know I’m just one of you in some ways —“

He cuts you off, “Yeah, baby, you’re one of us in some ways, but not in every way. The four of us, we have something special,” he nods. “But the two of us, we have something special too.” He tightens your embrace. “Seriously special. Yeah, we’re… what? friendly? sometimes. But, darling, you are not like Sirius or Remus to me.” He brings his hand to your face, caressing your cheek. “For starters, I don’t want to kiss Sirius or Remus, and they’re pretty good looking blokes,” he jokes. “And I don’t want to tell them about every single thing that makes me smile — just a lot of them — and about everything important in my life. I don’t need to make sure they’re happy and safe absolutely all of the time. I don’t feel warm and happy to be alive every time I look at them, and I don’t love cuddling with them at night, waking up to them in the morning. Not to even mention the other things that happen in that bed…” Now you laugh too.

“Yeah,” you nod, getting convinced.

“Yeah?” he pushes.

“Yeah,” you say certainly.

“Good.”

You hum a warm assent.

“Now what do you say we ditch this get together and go back to our place?”

You roll your eyes at him but laugh as you nod.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

He’s nodding as he shifts his arm across your shoulders, kissing the top of your head and continuing to hold you close as you walk toward Sirius and Remus to say goodbye.

“Leaving already?” Sirius complains, teasing you about being antisocial and lame.

“Sorry, mate, but I really want to cuddle up with my girlfriend right now, and this doesn’t seem like the best place for that.”

“Ugh, so cheesy, Prongs. Just leave already,” he says, feigning disgust and pushing James away.

“Good night, gorgeous,” Sirius tells you, kissing your cheek carelessly like he’s done a million times. Similar words, similar gestures, yes, you think, but they don’t feel the same at all. You smile.

“Good night, Siri,” you say. You and James hug Remus too.

James puts his arm back around you as you go to leave. You smile up at him, then, mischief in your eyes, you push him away and walk faster.

“You’re all sweaty, Potter. Gross.” He laughs and play chases you all the way out the door.

Once you’re on the other side of it, enveloped by the welcoming quiet privacy of the night, he catches up to you and pulls you to him. You resist for only a moment, your laughter intermingling with his, then you melt into his embrace.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” James huffs, kissing you ardently. “Can’t wait to get home with you,” he whispers before kissing you again.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #established relationship

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lynnie-ee · 1 month ago

Text

Day 4; Convince.

╰┈➤"Telling your friends that you're in a relationship with Scarabia's vicehousewarden was supposed to be easy and nice to share...Once you can convince them you're telling the truth, of course."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 3.2k words.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

⤿

Sleepovers at Ramshackle started as something casual. It only happened a few times every month, maybe the day after an overblot, as a way to make (Y/n) some company after difficult days. However, after some time, they became more regular, and more crowded.

At first, it was only Deuce and Ace. Then Jack joined, then Epel, Ortho, and somehow, even Sebek started to assist, under the excuse that Silver guarded Malleus back at Diasomnia, whereas he was in charge of guarding Ramshackle in case Malleus decided to visit Ramshackle at night, as he usually did (Malleus never went when the Prefect informed him that they were going to have a sleepover with the first-years).

They usually played video games, watched movies or just talked about school stuff. Like they did now, as they were reunited at the lounge of Ramshackle; Ace, Deuce and Epel laying on some makeshift beds that were on the ground, the Prefect sitting on one of the sofas with Grim, Sebek and Jack on the other sofa nearby, and Ortho sitting happily on one of the chairs of the room.

“Did y’all know that Rook’s partner from the Science club broke up with his girlfriend?” Epel commented, as he ate some chips out of a now half-empty bag.

“Epel, don’t you think it’s quite inappropriate to talk about other people’s personal life?” Jack questioned.

“Uuuuh, you’re talking about that one guy from Scarabia?” Ace asked right away, promptly ignoring Jack’s words.

“Yeah, that one.” The Pomefiore student nodded. “You think he cheated or something?”

“It’s kinda mean to suggest that.” Deuce commented. “…But I heard that his girlfriend found some messages from another girl on the past holidays.”

“If that’s the case, he should be punished for tarnishing his dorm’s reputation with such immoral behaviour.” This time was Sebek who joined.

“They didn’t break up because of that, though.” The Prefect clarified. “It was because he did terrible on his last exams, and his girlfriend told him through the phone, and I quote, ‘she wouldn’t date a dumb loser’, something like that.”

“How do you even know that?” Ace was quick to question.

“I was at Scarabia when the girl called him, she was loud enough to be heard even if he didn’t have the volume up.” They replied nonchalantly, as they accommodated the blanket that covered Grim and them, as the small beast complained that he was feeling cold.

“What were you doing at Scarabia either way?” The Pomefiore first-year asked as he reached for another bag of chips.

“Oh, about that…” The Prefect murmured, now wondering if this was the time to tell them. After all, this was one of the few times when all of their friends were reunited in a place without other students around, and they probably would notice at some point, if they hadn’t noticed already. “Now that we’re talking about that, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Oh, really? Do tell us, Prefect.” Ortho encouraged, moving his chair to hear them more clearly.

“Well, I waited a little bit before telling all of you because we decided to be more discreet for now, but I think is best for you to hear it from me rather than someone else.” (Y/n) started, as the rest of first-years looked at them expectantly. “I’m dating someone.”

For a few seconds, silence prevailed over the room, no visible reaction out of their friends, until Ace suddenly yelled triumphantly.

“I knew you were dating Kalim! Pay up, Deuce!” He immediately turned towards his dormmate to collect their bet.

“Well, congrats Prefect, good for you-“

“What? I’m not dating Kalim!” The magicless human was quick to correct. “I’m dating Jamil!”

Another silence.

And then, Ace’s loud laugh.

“C’mon Prefect! You don’t have to lie.”

“It’s okay if you have a crush on him or something, but you shouldn’t pressure yourself to say such things…”

“We can help you if you want to look for someone else, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” (Y/n) questioned discomposed by their friends’ comments, probably more upset at the fact that they weren’t mocking them, and their suggestions seemed genuine, for some reason.

“Please don’t be offended.” Deuce tried to reassure them. "It’s not that you’re ugly or unattractive, I think you’re very nice and pretty. It’s just that…”

“Jamil is…Jamil, y’know?” Ace complemented Deuce’s comment. “I see him a lot at practice, he just doesn’t seem the kind to date someone.”

“Yeah, besides isn’t he like, busy all day with his dorm stuff?”

“Jamil is a very diligent vicehousewarden and a dedicated guardian to Kalim, a relationship would only distract him from his duties!”

“Idia says that he could probably beat him in a competition of who sleeps less, it would be incredible if he managed to be in a relationship even with how tired he probably is.”

“I think you are exaggerating…But I agree he doesn’t look like the kind of person to be in a relationship.”

“His food is really good! You should invite him over more frequently.”

“That’s not the point of the conversation, Grim.” The Prefect sighed, wondering when they thought this would be a good idea. “I’m not saying I like him; I’m saying I’m dating him. Like, we already went through all the confessing part and stuff, he’s my boyfriend!” They stared at their group of friends. “You don’t believe me, don’t you?” They asked with a deadpan expression.

“I’d never call you a liar.” Jack answered immediately. “But it is hard to think about it…”

“Even you, Jack, I can’t believe this.” The magicless human sank onto the sofa, offended that none of them could imagine them dating Jamil. They knew he was handsome and committed to his responsibilities, but c’mon, they were the Prefect of Ramshackle, the one who survived multiple overblots, who built their dorm from scratch and managed to stay sane (lowkey) on a world that wasn’t even theirs. It wasn’t difficult to put some respect to their name, wasn’t it?

“You’re all bad friends and I hate you all.” They mumbled as they covered themselves with the blanket with a dramatic demeanour. “Even Grim was more supportive than all of you.”

“You were?” Ace frowned towards the direction of the little beast.

“He makes nice meals and always brings my henchman food for lunch! He’s not that bad, he brought the great Grim a tuna can once.”

“It’s not like Grim is the best source of information, though…”

“You know what? I’ve got nothing to prove to you.” (Y/n) got up abruptly, the offended expression still adorning their face. “You will see it by yourselves soon enough.”

“Sure, Prefect, if that makes you sleep better at night.”

“One more word and I’ll kick all of you out of my dorm.”

⤿

“What class do we have after this?”

“Shared gym class with Vargas.”

“Great, I’ll have to listen to Sebek screaming for an hour more than usual.”

“I’ll let you know I speak on a perfectly decent volume! You humans just have weak ears!”

“Great Sevens, have mercy on me…”

The group of first-years walked on the main hallway, already on their way to their next class, when the Prefect caught a glimpse of a certain vicehousewarden who seemed to be walking towards another classroom.

‘This is my chance to prove them wrong.’

“Jamil, hey!” The magicless human separated from the group to get close to the Scarabia student, who looked at them as soon as they heard their voice. “How are you-“

“I’m very sorry my love, I’ve got a test with Crewel in less than five minutes, I’ll talk to you later.” He walked past quickly with an apologetic voice tone, leaving the Prefect started as they watched him disappear promptly at the end of the hall.

As they stood there, even now far away from their group of friends, they could hear Ace’s snickering, the sound even more prominent as they walked back with them. After all, they were close enough to see how the vicehousewarden turned them down, but not close enough to hear the fondness of Jamil’s voice or the pet name.

“Very romantic, Prefect.”

“Shut up.”

⤿

The cafeteria buzzed with the sound of multiple chats of the many tables filled with students from different dorms all around the place. (Y/n) arrived at the table where Ace, Epel, Ortho and Sebek were waiting for them, as Deuce and Jack hadn’t finished their club practice yet. As they sat next to them, their phone suddenly buzzed.

Jamil: ‘I brought you lunch’

Me: ‘I can bring my own meal, you know? I’m not that irresponsible’

Jamil: ‘A meal better than curry?’

Me: ‘…I want you to know that I really love you.’

Jamil: ‘I’m on the tables next to the windows, come quickly’

“I’ll be back in a minute.” The magicless human notified their friends, as they made their way towards the table where Scarabia student was waiting for them.

“Hey handsome, how did you do on Crewel’s test?” The Prefect asked right away, discreetly taking his hand to squeeze lightly as a greeting.

“It was good, I just got late after running some errands in the morning.” He sighed, squeezing their hand back, and then softly dropping it to take the extra lunchbox he brought. “Here, take it.”

“Thank you, Jamil, I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothing, I hope you like it.”

“You cooked it, of course I will. You’ve got practice today after class, don’t you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, just asking. See you later.” They turned back, ready to go back to their table with their friends.

‘Heh, now I can show the guys that my beautiful boyfriend brought me a fantastic lunch-'

“Hey stop that! If you’re not careful I’ll-AH, Oh, I’m very sorry!” Suddenly, a first-year from another class crashed against them. “I’m so so sorry, my friend here was bothering me and I- Great Sevens, your lunch!”

Well, now the lunch made by their beautiful boyfriend lay on the ground, and (Y/n) could only stare at it with a deadpanned expression.

“You’re okay?” Jamil rushed to their side, promptly checking if they were hurt by the other student.

“Yeah, but the lunchbox…”

“I can pay for your lunch! I really apologize.” The first-year spoke again. (Y/n) had seen him a few times before, and they knew he wasn’t a bad guy, his only crime was being a bit clumsy and having annoying friends. They had that in common, perhaps.

“No, don’t worry, it's alright.” They commented with a dismissive expression.

“I can give you part of my lunch, if you want.” The vicehousewarden was quick to offer.

“It’s fine, like I said before, I brought my lunch as well. Besides, curry is your favourite. I’ll see you after class.”

“Alright, have a nice meal.”

“You too.”

They turned around and came back to their seat, this time without the lunchbox between their hands, sitting on their spot as they stared at the table.

They, in fact, forgot to bring their own lunch.

⤿

Two classes and one-half of a sandwich that Epel gave them later, it was finally the end of the day. It was tiring, but at least it was Friday, which usually meant that a sleepover would take place at Ramshackle, but this time, the boys wanted to try a new video game in which (Y/n) had no interest, so the sleepover would be moved to Heartslabyul, leaving the Prefect a night to rest.

After making a quick stop by the cafeteria, they walked towards the gym, where the basketball practice took place. There, (Y/n) could spot Jamil right away, near the benches. As they entered the room, they greeted other students briefly, noticing then Ace chatting with other first-years in the middle of the court.

‘Maybe this could be a good opportunity to show him he was wrong…’

“It’s good to see you, my love. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

“Yeah, it was very…delicious.” The prefect answered with an awkward smile. “Are you busy after practice?”

“Not really.” He answered, making (Y/n) look at him curiously. “Kalim came back to Scalding Sands for the weekend, for an important family gathering, and he requested for me to stay here.”

“Really? Did he say why he did it?”

“...No.”

“How strange, because Kalim told me last week how happy he was to give you a free weekend to spend with me.” The Ramshackle student teased with a smile. Ever since he found out they were dating (which was like two days after they got together), he seemed so excited for Jamil that (Y/n) could swear that he was probably waiting to organize their wedding right away.

“…Yeah, very unusual. Don’t think much about it.” The vicehousewarden dismissed the topic, a faint blush on his face.

“Well, considering that, would you like to come to Ramshackle tonight? Grim is staying a Heartslabyul, so we could watch a movie or something like that. Only if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

“It’s settled, then.” They smiled at him. “Practice is probably going to start soon, so I should leave. See you at Ramshackle at 6?”

“I’ll be there.” Jamil looked around for a few seconds, before towards them to leave a soft and brief kiss on their lips as a way to say goodbye.

The Prefect stood in their place for a few seconds, dumbfounded, as Jamil walked away nonchalantly towards where the rest of the team was. They had kissed before, but it wasn’t often in public, due to Jamil’s reserved nature, so it was surprising for them.

‘Take that, Ace!’

They walked happily towards the exit, until the figure of a certain first-year appeared through the door.

“Ace? Weren’t you here already?”

“Yeah, but I had to refill my water bottle. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well, I…” They mumbled, until they suddenly realised. “Wait, you didn’t even see?!”

“See what?” The Heartslabyul student asked, genuinely confused.

“You know what? I don’t care anymore.” (Y/n) sighed, walking away from the gym, and leaving his friend confused at their change of demeanour.

⤿

“So, they don’t believe you?”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been cooperative either.”

Jamil and (Y/n) chatted as they prepared to go to sleep. They had already spent the evening watching movies and talking, and after Jamil had made dinner for the both of them, they realised how dark was outside. This motivated (Y/n) to suggest that it was too late and too far for Jamil to walk alone back to his dorm (It was 11 pm and it was a 15-minute walk), so he should just stay the night.

They were already lying on bed, just talking, when (Y/n) remembered the dilemma that had bothered them for the past few days and started to narrate his failed attempts to demonstrate to their friends that they were, in fact, incredible enough to date Jamil.

“I didn’t know I had to cooperate in the first place, so that should excuse me.”

“You literally walked past me when I wanted to talk to you.”

“I was late.”

“The boys mocked me for the rest of the day!” (Y/n) complained, plopping their head onto Jamil's chest to prove their frustration. “I can’t believe they don’t think I’m capable of dating you.”

“If it’s making you uneasy, I could talk to them-“

“That would be even more embarrassing.” They sighed. “I gave up. If they don’t want to believe me, it’s up to them.”

“I don’t get them, though. I thought I was obvious, back then when I started to like you, so I believed that your friends would notice.”

“You had too much faith in them. Besides, you weren’t obvious, even I didn’t notice.”

“I tutored you for Trein’s class and I helped you manage your dorm.”

“And?”

“That's a lot more of anything that I’d do for anyone else that wasn’t you.” The vicehousewarden threw one of his arms around (Y/n), who answered by nuzzling closer to him.

“Yeah, you may have a point there.” They replied, yawning as they started to feel the exhaustion get to them. “Can you believe they thought I was dating Kalim at first?” They commented lightly, suddenly feeling Jamil’s body stiffen.

“…They did?” He questioned, a frown on his face, receiving a quiet ‘Mhm’ as an answer. “…I think it would be okay if we started to be less discreet.”

“It wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“Well, holding hands wouldn’t be so bad, right.” The Scarabia student replied, trying to sound nonchalantly. “Besides, it would keep your friends away from incorrect and wrong suppositions.”

“It’s fine by me.” The Prefect mumbled, once again yawning. “But we should sleep already, I’m tired.”

“Goodnight then, my love.”

“Goodnight dear.”

⤿

“Prefeeeeect, we’ve brought you cat!”

“Leave me on the ground! I can walk by myself!”

“You went to the kitchen at 4 am and Riddle caught you, I’m not leaving you until (Y/n) gets you back. I��m getting collared if I don’t!”

“The great Grim was just hungry!”

“Ace, the Prefect is probably sleeping, I don’t think they’ll open the door at this hour.” Deuce mumbled, ignoring Grim's complaints.

“Fine, let’s just leave him in their room.”

The three of them opened the door to the dorm, the interior still cold due to how early it was, the ghosts nowhere to be found yet, even as they made their way through the stairs.

“(Y/n), sorry to bother you, Riddle sent us to drop Grim by and- Ace, isn’t that Jamil?!”

“What are you saying, why would he be here at this hour- Wow, yeah that’s him!”

The duo didn’t even bother to keep their voices low, causing (Y/n) to stir up due to the sudden noise, making them sit down on the bed a few seconds later to look for the source of such scandal.

“Ace…? Deuce…? What are you doing here...” They mumbled, interrupting themselves with a yawn. “What happened to your sleepover?”

“That’s not the point right now, what’s Jamil doing here?!”

“Well, he-“

“My love, what’s with all the noise…?” This time was the vicehousewarden who woke up, tiredly sitting on the bed, until he realized they had company. A company that now was looking at him like he grew two heads.

“Did he just call the Prefect…?”

“Yes, he did.”

“It’s too early for this nonsense.” Jamil mumbled, feeling his cheeks heating up, as he sighed to mask his embarrassment.

“I literally told you two I was dating him like a week ago. Now, I won’t receive Grim before 11 am, so leave my dorm before I call Riddle.” (Y/n) ordered, plopping themselves in the bed to go back to sleep.

“But Riddle said he’d collar us if we didn’t-“

“Not my problem, out of my dorm.”

“But-“

“If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Floyd you were the one who ate his snack yesterday.” This time was Jamil who spoke, already annoyed.

“Yeaaah, let’s go Deuce.”

The vicehousewarden sighed once again, coming back to the position he was in as soon as the Heartslabyul students left.

“I’m never speaking to them again.” He mumbled against the Prefect’s hair.

“Why? Because they saw you all soft when waking up?” They teased, chuckling quietly.

“No, because they have no sense of decent hours to wake someone up.”

“Hey, look at the bright side, we don’t have to convince them now.”

“Yeah, whatever, now go back to sleep.”

(Y/n) smiled tenderly, wrapping their arms around the figure of the vicehousewarden.

“As you wish, my love.”

⤿

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oneshot #disney twst #twst x you #twisted wonderland jamil #twst oneshot #jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #lynnie's post

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cookiescribble · 1 year ago

Note

spencer x british!reader

as a brit i would love to see a fic of a reader with a british accent and spencer adores it and mimics her sometimes

Taking It In (Spencer Reid x British Fem!Reader)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This is a bit of a team effort because I’m a bit more knowledgeable about British culture (in no means an expert, I just had a hyperfixation on the Beatles and Doctor Who in middle school/ high school lmao) but Mod Angel is usually the one who writes for fem!readers. Also, we’re both American so we hope this is what you wanted! Sorry for the little wait - Mod Ghost

We also just binged season 2 of Heartstopper and tried our best to pick up on some of the language because we thought this was a really cute idea and wanted to write it as best we could! - Mod Angel

~~~

“Coffee? I thought that people from the UK drank tea?” Spencer piped up from behind as his girlfriend was pouring coffee into one of the paper cups she’d found around the canteen.

“It heavily depends on who you’re talking to, Spencer. I feel you should know just as well as I do that everyone’s different. You didn’t profile me as soon as we started dating?” Y/N joked, to which he looked puzzled.

“Wha–no, I usually try to keep my job separate from…personal relations.” He replied sheepishly, starting to mix up his own mug of coffee.

“That changed when we started dating, didn’t it, love?” She teased him, patting his shoulder.

It made him blush and stutter like mad, his hands waving around as he tried to scramble to find something to say. It was rare to see him speechless, but she couldn’t help but to smirk as she watched him struggle. It only lasted a few more seconds before she cut him off, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

“It’s alright, I was just being cheeky, that’s all. C’mon, let’s go back to workin’ on the case, okay?” She chuckled, leading him away from the counter with the hand that wasn’t holding her coffee resting at the small of his back as they walked.

“I knew that!” He squealed in his own defense, which made her giggle loudly.

A few weeks later, the BAU were out to dinner, taking a small break while in the middle of a case. Though, it wasn’t much of a break, considering they were still talking about the profile.

Spencer pointed to a plate in the middle of the table. “Can I have a chip?”

A confused silence fell over the table as they all looked in his direction. Spencer stared back at them, an eyebrow raised in his own confusion.

“What?” Spencer asked finally, breaking the silence.

“What did you just say?” JJ responded with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I asked if you could pass me a chip” he answered, pointing to the plate again.

“Where do you see chips?” Hotch chimed in, concerned for his mental stability.

Still confused, Spencer pointed to the plate again.

“The fries?” Penelope clarified, gesturing to the same plate finally.

“Oh.” He nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, can you pass me a fry?”

“You’re really spending too much time with that girlfriend of yours, aren’t you?” Morgan teased, grinning and playfully nudging his shoulder.

He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a faux-English accent as he finally got the ‘chip’ he wanted as the rest of the table laughed.

“Speaking of Y/N, where is she tonight?? I miss that girl.” Garcia complained from the other side of the table,

“Oh, she went out with one of her mates–” Spencer started before Prentiss cut him off from where she was sat next to him,

“Mates??” She asked incredulously, seconds away from giggling as he groaned and leaned back in his chair.

“FRIENDS! Her friends.” he grumbled, finishing his food and making a mental note to not only tell but blame his girlfriend, Y/N, for everything he’d been through tonight. Not before giving her a kiss, though. The fact that she wasn’t here just made him realize how much he missed her, and it made him wonder if there was a correlation between missing her and talking like her.

The girls dropped him off at home a few hours later, where the first thing he said when he saw Y/N was ‘this is your fault’.

“Do you…want to elaborate on that or…?”

“Later.” Was all he said before he was hugging her and burying his head in her shoulder.

She tugged him close, feeling him start breathing deeply against her shoulder as if he was falling asleep and tapped him to wake him up a bit so she could start leading him to their room. “Come along, darling, let’s get you into bed. You seem tired.”

“I know that they’re fries but you say chips…it’s cute…” he mumbled as he walked, only adding to the confusion but she chalked it up to him being tired from a long day and let it go for now as she tucked him in with a smile at how cute he was.

#spencer reid #fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosty #mod angel #mod ghost #spencer reid fluff #british #british speaking Y/N #request #thank you for submitting !!

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roseykat · 1 year ago

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 9

TITLE: Don't bite the hand that feeds you

PAIRING: Seungmin x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Featuring Seungmin as your lecturer's student assistant who runs your tutorials and possesses just as harsh a personality as he fucks.

TAGS: Mean tutor Seungmin, oral sex (f!reader receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, swearing.

KINK: Freelance

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @queenmea604

A/N: this is for all the Seungmin stans out there x

There isn’t any way to work around a more stubborn person. People that you’ve met before don’t even come close to the level of arrogance that this person carries with them. That person being one of your tutors for a class at Uni, Seungmin. For some reason, he always has the time of day to help other people but has an issue with your supposed incompetence in completing a task when it comes to you.

Seungmin never checks your work, never goes over your answers, discusses your ideas or anything like that. He has a very prickly attitude yet only those needles are only for you. You see the sigh he lets out whenever you need to approach him to clarify something he went over during the tutorial. You see the crease between his eyebrows as the annoyance grows when you ask if he can read a draft of yours before you submit it.

He never does that with other students. Seungmin is happy to help them, makes conversation with them before class, and always seems to have time for them.

The difference in his behaviour towards you definitely placed an unnecessary burden on your shoulders. But you’re not one to budge. Whether his intentions are malicious or not, you’re not exactly an easy one to crack, which is why you continued to supposedly ‘bother’ him.

“Hey,” you approach him after one of his tutorials, hoping you used a good enough manner to not light a fire under his seat. “Would you be able to check this for me?”

Seungmin furrows his eyebrows - not a good sign, and averts his eyes from the whiteboard to look at your paper, “I can’t help you with that.”

“And why is that?” You question. “You had no trouble looking at everyone else’s. How’s mine any different?”

“Judging from your grades, I’d suspect there would be a lot of differences,” he responds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m one of the top in the class thank you,” you scoff.

“And one of the top most arrogant too,” Seungmin fires back. “If you haven’t got anything relevant to show me, I suggest you leave. The next tutorial group starts in twenty minutes.”

Your face contorts slightly, “well since this isn’t relevant enough for you, is it possible for you to check over one of the drafts we have to send in on Friday?”

“Can’t do that either-“

“Then what can you do exactly?” You cut him off impatiently. “Seriously, I’ve been trying to ask you for help for the past two weeks and you’ve only ever given me vague answers to my questions and you won’t proofread any of my work which is what you’re here to do.”

Seungmin takes off his glasses and closes the distance between himself and you, “I don’t help out entitled people like you who always demand things.”

You glare up at him, “I’m not entitled. I was just merely commenting about the fact that you don’t do what you’re being paid to do.”

“And you just keep proving my point as to why you are entitled, because you don’t shut up and you always complain. After every tutorial, you come up to me and ask me for something.”

“Yeah, just like everyone else and yet, I don’t see you giving the same shit to them as you do to me,” you argue right back with him.

“That’s because you expect things to be handed to you on a silver plate. Unlike them, you don’t work for your shit with me,” Seungmin responds, placing the cap on the whiteboard marker a little bit too rough.

“Being here is me working for my shit,” you press back. “You’re just being a stubborn ass because you don’t like me.”

“Well you’re right with one thing,” he sighs.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “fuck you honestly.”

It took a lot of effort not to just shove Seungmin out of your way as you headed out the door with a fresh stormy cloud looming over your head. Felix could spot it a mile away when you went to meet up with him for lunch nearby after his class too.

“What’s wrong?” He asks carefully, studying the pained expression on your face.

“Nothing,” you sigh, trying to let it go. “Just one of my stupid tutors.”

“Is this the same one that isn’t doing his job properly?” Felix questions, remembering the conversation you both had about him a while back.

“Bingo.”

“You know, he’s probably dealing with things in the background that you don’t know about,” Felix points out, his habit of always giving people the benefit of the doubt starting to shine through.

“Yeah, pretty sure he’s dealing with ‘absolute fucking dickhead disorder’,” you spit. “And even if he was - even if the worst is happening to him, he has no right to be taking out his anger or frustration on me.”

Felix sports a disappointed look on his face, “is it just you, or are there others?”

“It’s just me, I swear.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Felix assures. “If he really is as bad as you say he is, maybe just ignore him. We’ve only got seven weeks left, that’s not too long until you can get away from him, yeah?”

It was easier said than done, because the next round of tutorials that approached in the following week, opened up that fresh wound of just seeing Seungmin’s face and dreading it. All of Felix’s advice went out the gate, almost like it was never there in the first place.

In the end, you simply chose not to speak. What’s the point in arguing with a person who won’t move?

So right after the tutorial, you don’t bother darting straight to Seungmin and asking for his help. He’s not willing to give it to you so there’s no point in lingering behind. As you pack your things up from the table and start to head out, Seungmin peers at you from behind the glasses that you so badly want to knock off his face sometimes.

He’s not entirely stumped that you haven’t approached him, but he is a bit intrigued. Maybe he had come across too strongly with you the other day - maybe within the past month without being of any help to you at all. Then again, Seungmin isn’t the most apologetic of people.

“Surprised you’re not asking me to check anything for you,” he projects his voice to you just before you leave the class.

You heard him on your way out, but what’s a retaliation going to do? Only add fuel to your own fire. Seungmin isn’t the one who’s got something to lose here. He’s just a student tutor who’s clearly got enough competence to reinforce the learning you receive during lectures. At the end of the day, his grades for this class aren’t on the line. Yours are.

“Y/N,” you hear a voice call out to you, recognising it to be Felix. Caught up in the swirl of your own thoughts, you almost forgot Felix had been waiting for your tutorial to end as he sat in a row of seats against the wall.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

“So, how was it? Did you say anything to him?” He asks as you sit down beside him.

“I just gave up,” you answer. “I forgot that you can’t get your point across to dickheads so I stopped trying. I’ll just go to the other classes' tutorials if they let me switch. Or maybe I can just cross-check my work with their tutor.”

“Geez, that bad is he?”

“The fucking worst,” you confirm.

However, you weren’t surprised to learn that Seungmin’s attitude and behaviour still continued in the following tutorial, close to an essay hand-in date which is what you didn’t need. The only saving grace is that instead of going over the content that you learned in an earlier lecture, Seungmin allowed his students to study for another upcoming in-class test in the upcoming week.

You spent that time wisely working on the essay you needed to hand in since it was the first due. Then, by two o’clock, everyone started wrapping up their study session. You slot your books into your bag, zip it up, and ready to leave.

“You, come here,” Seungmin speaks in your direction, but you really don’t want to listen. At first to begin with, you were surprised he was even talking to you.

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t be stubborn. I want to talk about your assignment,” he replies. He set his bait and waited for you to take it. So you approach him hesitantly from your chair, leaving your bag behind at the table.

“See, how hard was that?”

You roll your eyes. Not even a full conversation in and he’s already made you reach your limit, “oh go fuck yourself.”

Upon hearing your nasty sentiment, Seungmin’s hand latches quickly onto your wrist, “what did you just say?”

You look down at your arm in disbelief, then back up to him, his eyes narrowing at you, “what?”

“Say it again.”

“I said; ‘go fuck yourself.”

“Fucking brat.”

Without warning, Seungmin’s hands grasp the sides of your arms in a flash, backing you against the wall behind him. Out of nowhere, his mouth comes down and crashes against yours in a bruising kiss. There’s no time to process what’s actually going on when you start kissing him back, allowing his tongue to delve deeper into his mouth.

In the back of your mind, you can’t believe your own actions, but at the same time, pushing back on him also feels like you’re letting some of that frustration go. To take things further, Seungmin breaks away from you for a moment, turning your body by your arms, and backs you straight into the desk until your hips hit the edge.

Your first instinct tells you to lean back while your legs automatically lift so that Seungmin can slot right in, pressing his semi-hard dick against your pussy.

It gives you the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist, trying to bring him in closer as you hope for more friction. Seungmin pins your wrists down to the desk, kissing along your jaw and down to your throat where he bites and sucks until there’s a line of future regretful hickies for you to deal with later on.

“D-Do something,” you stammer, feeling so dizzy from the pleasure that you desperately start to chase.

“Why should I?” He mumbles into your skin.

You turn your head, watching figures of people pass by through the frosted glass of the door who could potentially walk in at any given time. In saying that, a portion of you recognises that there’s something so naughty about being caught in the act.

“Please Seungmin,” you beg for him, feeding into his ego.

His head rises from your neck, “that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘please’.”

You didn’t care what he meant by that. All you care about is relieving that itch inside the pit of your stomach because you know that horny feeling will take a long time to dissipate. Nonetheless, Seungmin seems to listen to you when he unbuttons the first two buttons of his white dress shirt.

His fingers reach down to your jeans, unzipping them and yanking them right off your legs until you’re just left in your underwear, already soaking through. Seungmin uses the pad of his thumb to brush gently over the fabric which is sticky to the touch. It makes the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Keep quiet if you don’t want people to come in,” he warns before taking his glasses off and placing them to the side of you before kneeling down.

Your chest already starts heaving just feeling his warm breath fan across your inner thighs. The anticipation leading up to it has you clawing at the desk when Seungmin starts removing your underwear.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he speaks from a stance of astonishment just seeing what he was able to do to you from a simple makeout session and some rough and tumble.

His comment turns you into a flustered mess that is easily shattered when Seungmin moves his mouth closer to your pussy, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer until he reaches your clit. Your back arches in an instant. One hand clasps over your mouth to stifle a loud moan at the heat of Seungmin’s mouth, the other grabs a fistful of his hair and starts tugging. He doesn’t dare hold back; sucking on your clit, lapping up at what he can to make your entire body shudder.

It never occurred to you that Seungmin is like this. You’ve always made him out to be some rich, entitled, arrogant, teacher's pet with good grades and an outstanding reputation when he goes and does shit like this – eating you out in broad daylight, in public.

Whatever rabid spirit took over Seungmin, it wasn’t stopping him. His tongue dances perfect circles and random shapes against your clit, embracing your thighs quivering shamelessly around his head.

“Oh my god, feels…feels so good,” you mutter, using every drop of energy you can to subdue the moans into whimpers.

Not even the hand you’ve been trying to use to cover your mouth is working because when Seungmin keeps building you up to that edge, you increasingly become louder. But that’s all on him for initiating this, not that you’re complaining. Not when your head is just about thrashing back behind you on the wooden surface trying to syphon all the pleasure you’re getting. It’s like rouge electricity, a live wire inside of you that has no chance of being tamed.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum,” you mumble, eyelids already fluttering. “So…good.”

Seungmin heard that as a sign to press his face further into your pussy but kept the same momentum and pace that his tongue uses to make you cum, and when you do, every ounce of pleasure pours into all the cells throughout your body. It rattles you in such a good way, that you forget how hard you’re tugging on Seungmin’s hair as he continues to eat you out through to the very end. But you managed to stay quiet – just.

Your body unstiffens and your chest heaves up and down trying to catch air. The orgasm was so massive that afterwards, you couldn’t figure out what time it was or where you were. It nearly took out every bit of consciousness you had remaining.

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he rasps.

Whatever that means – not that you can articulate it as of yet. You’re still trying to grapple with reality and when Seungmin unzips his pants to free his cock, you know there’s no point in trying.

He’s big in length and has a sizeable girth. He teases you with his tip, sliding up and down from your now oversensitive clit to your drenched hole. Just feeling how wet you are makes him wonder one thing:

“Are you a virgin?” He asks.

You’re still trying to regain a bit of consciousness, only able to muster a few words at a time, “no...no I’m not.”

“I pinned it down to either that or someone hasn’t touched you in a while,” he responds. You groan at the embarrassment. Seungmin must obviously be that experienced for him to make such an observation.

“The latter. Now just hurry up and fuck me.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin snipes, even though he begins to push his cock inside of you at a terribly slow pace.

You didn’t realise how much you had been aching to have someone inside you. Your own fingers can’t seem to do the right trick of actually feeling full and satisfied. But now that Seungmin is here, slowly thrusting in until he reaches the hilt, can he make you feel that way.

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin bites down on his lip and has to hold onto the edge of the desk beside your body for support.

He’s never felt anything like it. Even after sleeping with other women prior to you in his past, there’s something about the way you feel that isn’t like the rest. Maybe it’s from the fact that you hadn’t been touched in a while or not, either way, Seungmin can’t contain himself when he starts thrusting properly.

His cock glides in like melted butter, the lewd wet sounds making you want to hide from embarrassment. But Seungmin revels in it like it’s about to slip through his fingers like sand. So he lowers his body onto yours, resting some of his weight comfortably on you. It’s intimate yes, but it enables Seungmin to start whispering things in your ear.

“So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” He purrs. “Such a good girl for taking all of my cock, especially for someone who hasn’t been touched in a while. Just opened up for me so easily.”

No words could ever spring to your mind in response to that, but it causes your body and mind to have a reaction you’re all too familiar with from about five minutes ago. That tingly feeling starts creeping up inside you the longer Seungmin keeps fucking you. His cock repetitively hits such a deep sweet spot that you don’t think anyone’s ever reached before.

“S-Seungmin…it feels…fuck it feels so good,” you moan right in his ear, your arms clinging to his back.

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “I bet it does with the way that you’re clenching around me.”

Seungmin just keeps finding ways to unintentionally embarrass you, but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you and himself, it’s that he likes seeing you so flustered. He thinks it’s cute. In saying that, he doesn’t want to get too caught up in things when the euphoria that has already built itself impossibly high starts making itself known.

Just like you, Seungmin feels too good right now. He’s doused in warmth from the heat wrapping around his cock and the way that your walls keep involuntarily clamping around him.

“S’too much…” you gasp for air, fingers digging into his clothed arms at this point. “M’gonna cum again please.”

Seungmin presses himself up away from your body but still thrusting at his same pace, “go on then. I want to see your face when you do.”

It washes over you quickly and he’s fast to clock onto the small reactions beginning to change. The only thing that doesn’t alter is the fucked-out look you have on your face. That remains all the way up until the bliss starts packing its punch. Seungmin’s hips don’t hamper your orgasm, not when he watches your eyes roll back and sees the words to describe how you’re feeling become lodged in your throat.

“Y-Yes!” you call out, your voice echoing throughout the empty classroom. Your wet walls convulse around Seungmin’s cock, clutching onto him for dear life as you cum hard.

“I suppose that’s why you cum so easily, huh?” He asks, catching his breath. “Because nobody’s been touching you? Poor thing.”

Your cheeks burn a bright red as Seungmin continues to fuck you, right up until he’s had his fill. Regardless of how overstimulated you are, he can’t stop because he’s nearly there. His hips stutter forward a few times as he chases the tail of his orgasm, getting hit with it right at the last second.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he lowers his head, watching where his cock keeps disappearing into and listening to your whimpers. It’s all enough to tip him right over the edge and into a pool of warm euphoria. “Yes – fuck!”

With a few more grunts and thrusts, Seungmin slows right down as he cums inside you. For a split second there, his vision started to go splotchy. It reminded him of the fact that he hasn’t cum that hard in a while. In saying that, you get to bask in the warm sensation that fills your lower half.

“Shit,” he gasps, breathing heavily. In the back of his mind, something told him that he shouldn’t have done that. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you swallow, trying to dampen your dry throat. “You’re lucky I’m into that.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle and for the first time, you’ve actually seen Seungmin genuinely smile.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I kind of want to make a part 2 to this but reader finds out that she’s pregnant lmao

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #i.n x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader

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seoulmatez · 1 year ago

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୨♡୧ SWEET POTATO — iwaizumi hajime x f!reader. sfw. fluff. reader is pregnant.

“you know, i’m perfectly capable of going to the grocery store on my own,” you tell iwaizumi, lingering a step behind him as he walks down the aisle, scanning the items neatly lined up on the shelves. he only hums in acknowledgement. you click your tongue in mock annoyance because, despite your resistance to his assistance, you don’t mind having him around. still, you’re not used to being coddled like this. “being pregnant doesn’t mean i can’t walk. my feet aren’t defective.”

“just hush and let me help,” hajime speaks, resting one hand on the top of your head while the other reaches for a bag of brown rice. the weight on your head is comforting, a reminder of why iwaizumi is really here. ever since you read the positive test and the man who was meant to be with you walked out, iwaizumi, your best friend, stepped up and became your lifeline—attended all of your appointments, started reading baby books in his free time, calmed you down whenever you were feeling overwhelmed. he made sure you weren’t making this journey alone.

“can i at least push the cart?” you attempt to negotiate. you may not mind having him here with you, but you’d be lying if you said that following him around while he did all the work wasn’t getting boring. “wouldn’t it be safer to have something in front of me in case i trip?”

“how could you trip?” he asks, more humor in his voice than usual. “you just told me that your feet work fine.”

you groan at the way he twists your words, hands coming up to unconsciously rub at your belly. it’s become a habit of yours, caressing the steadily growing bump whenever you’re stressed or bored. it gives you something to do and floods you with an immeasurable amount of contentment.

“oh, congratulations, dear.” you turn at the sound of a frail voice. an elderly woman on the opposite side of the aisle looks at you through squinted eyes, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. you figure she’s referring to your stomach.

“thank you.”

“how far along are you?”

“eighteen weeks.” you smile. iwaizumi intently watches your interaction—the way your eyes light up and how your hands protectively cradle the little bulge. “this little one is the size of a sweet potato.”

the fruit and vegetable comparison was always a little silly to you but it came in handy during moments like these. this specific week actually helped you remember something that slipped your mind while you were making the list of items you needed.

“oh!” you snap and point at iwaizumi. “that’s what i forgot earlier. i’m going to go grab a few.”

“hold on, i’ll-” your hand shoots up, palm out, to stop him from finishing his sentence—one that you’re positive would include him insisting on joining you.

“hajime.” you’re more than grateful to have someone to lean on but at this rate, you’re going to forget how to live as an independent being. “i can walk a couple aisles down and bag some vegetables on my own.”

“right,” he curtly nods, “i’ll stay and wait for you here.”

you hurry off to grab the sweet potatoes your obstetrician recommended adding to your diet and leave iwaizumi to aimlessly shift back and forth on his feet.

“you must be excited.” the familiar voice catches the man’s attention, leading him to face the nice old woman.

“i’m sorry?”

“about becoming a father,” she clarifies.

his lips part in understanding and he nods. there’s no harm in letting one woman neither of you will see again think that he was the baby’s dad. it happened quite often but you always brush off the assumptions by jokingly saying “i wish.” it’s never bothered iwaizumi—people’s first thought being that he was the father or the fact that you corrected them. he expected as much when he offered a helping hand. what he didn’t expect was that his heart would jump every time he heard any variation of the word. he kept that to himself, though.

the woman slowly approaches iwaizumi and places a soothing hand on his arm. he has to look down to meet her eye but when he does, he’s met with nothing but warmth. her eyes crinkle with her smile. “i’m sure you and your wife will be great parents.”

she continues down the aisle, leaving iwaizumi with her words. his arms rest on the handle of the cart as the woman’s statement echoes in his head. parents. at the moment, hajime’s a support system—driving you around on errands and helping with chores around the house. the two of you haven’t discussed what his role will be after you’ve given birth, but, despite that, he knows he wants to be there for you and your baby every step of the way if you’ll have him.

“i’m back and bearing potatoes,” you announce your arrival, dropping the vegetables in the cart. your gaze falls to iwaizumi who’s staring ahead, his eyebrows knit together in deep thought. you reach out to smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb. “what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing.” what’s on his mind is a conversation better had not in a supermarket. “come on. let’s wrap this up and get you home for lunch.”

“gosh, you sound just like a dad,” you comment through a laugh, hooking your arm around one of his.

like clockwork, iwaizumi’s heart skips another beat. it feels different this time; he figures it’s because you’re the one who said it.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x you

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wren-kitchens · 3 months ago

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can't remember if I ever posted this to tumblr so have a silly little snippet from an au me and stiff came up with!

the premise is that every hermit is some kind of hybrid, but is worried about sharing this fact because they all think they're the only hybrid on hermitcraft. empires on the other hand immediately clocks them all as hybrids and assumes the fact they’re hiding it is some kind of lore

jimmy can’t help grinning as scar tries to get him to ‘accept himself’ for the fifth time this afternoon. man, these hermitcraft people are fantastic at sticking to the bit—jimmy knows he would have cracked up way before now if it was him.

“you gotta accept it as part of you!” scar is practically begging him as jimmy leads him to the tavern. “you’ll never get anywhere if you’re left hating something like that about you, tim!”

jimmy turns to look at him. he keeps throwing his hat in the air and catching it again—that’s allay behaviour if he’s ever seen it.

“scar,” jimmy says, dropping the ‘oh no i’m so tormented’ act for a moment. “you do know i’m not actually a toy, don’t you?”

scar blinks at him. “you- no, you are. aren’t you?”

“no!” jimmy laughs at the look on scar’s face. “i’m a cow, scar, have you seen me?”

“wait- but what’s all that about then!” scar exclaims, gesturing in the direction of stratos. “with the ‘little toy man’ and- and the revealing potion!”

“oh that’s just for fun!” jimmy grins. “none of it’s true: the ‘revealing potion’ just makes you short, and joel knows i’m not a toy.”

“gosh, you empires people are odd.” scar says. “why do something that’s not true?”

“well, first of all, it’s funny.” jimmy says. “and second of all, it makes for a cool story! you being human isn’t real, but it-“

“not human?” scar interrupts, looking nervous all of a sudden. “i don’t- I have no clue what you mean! ‘not human’,” scar laughs to himself, unconvincingly offhand. “ah, you never fail to amuse me, jimmy.”

jimmy blinks at him. “is that- do you guys-“

and something clicks. the shiftiness of tango, the wide-eyed gazes at their hybrid features that all the hermitcraftians had enacted, almost like-

almost like they didn’t know they were all hybrids.

jimmy suppresses a laugh. wow, okay. now that’s a story.

“scar, I know you’re an allay.” jimmy says. “or a vex? somewhere in between?”

“somewhere in between.” scar clarifies. “how- how did you know?”

“I hate to tell you, but you’re not very subtle about it.” jimmy grins. oh gosh, he’s going to have to tell everyone when he has the time. no wonder all the hermits looked so surprised to see them.

“not subt- how am I not subtle?” scar asks. “I do everything humans do!”

“you’re counting your fellow hermits as humans?” jimmy asks.

“well of course.” scar says. ah, that’s where he’s gone wrong, jimmy thinks. “sure, we’re all a little weird over there, but i’m the only hybrid. and no one has noticed yet, so i think i’m doing quite well actually.”

“must be ‘cause i’m used to hybrids then.” jimmy settles on, because whilst he doesn’t want to reveal the secrets of.. pretty much everyone except the guy in the doom outfit, he also really wants to see how this plays out.

“oh yes.” scar agrees quickly. “must be that.”

“now, I do believe I was showing you the saloon!” jimmy says, putting on his silly accent for the last word, and scar seems to register that he’s back in character.

“yeah, the saloon!” scar exclaims, ever the enthusiast.

as scar starts to ramble about how he doesn’t think you can be classified as a cowboy unless you have your own saloon (which jimmy agrees with wholeheartedly), jimmy smiles to himself as he anticipates the reactions of his server-mates when he breaks the news.

.. and also he might be smiling at the way scar’s face lights up as he speaks. but that’s a matter for another time.

#gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #gtws hermitcraft #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #man these guys have so many tags #fuck doxxers btw #wren writes #hermitfic #kinda? it's the crossover does that count #empires x hermitcraft #could be shipping if you want idk

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seresinhangmanjake · 10 months ago

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The One I Want: Part 13

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: smut 18+ (but like, not a lot. I settled somewhere in the middle), cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, fluff, angst, typos

Words: 3298

The One I Want Masterlist

“I’m thinking cake,” Jake suddenly says as he halts in place. His hand in yours stops you from continuing further into the pastry section of the grocery store.

You fall in line beside him and scan over the individually packaged slices of vanilla and chocolate and red velvet.

“Cake?” you ask, running your eyes from his head to his toes and back. “I have to be honest, Jake, you look like you haven’t had a piece of cake in your life.”

He didn’t even have any on his birthday a couple weeks ago and, in your opinion, that says a lot. A birthday, and not one of his friends complained about the lack of dessert to celebrate. Even alone in your cheap as fuck apartment with no furniture and walls tinged yellow from previous tenants’ smoking addictions you had cake on your birthday. One cupcake, one candle, one wish that had an entire three hundred and sixty-five days to come true but never did.

Actually, maybe the ‘no birthday cake’ thing is smart. Less chance for disappointment.

“I’ve had cake.” He playfully nudges his shoulder into yours. “Not in a while, granted, but it did happen,” he says. “Plus, out of everything here, this will be the least messy in bed.”

‘Just to sleep,’ he had quickly clarified earlier after suggesting you share the same bed. Your mouth was wide open, a forkful of spaghetti frozen in mid-air as he nervously smiled at you from across the restaurant’s table. “I just thought it might be nice, but if you hate the idea we don’t have to.”

You’d teased that if you were going to get in bed with a man you wanted dessert first, but Jake took it rather seriously. And after deciding the restaurant’s creme brulee or sorbet would not travel well, he said, “We’ll have to make a pit stop.”

“I’m good with cake,” you chuckle, picking up a slice. He does the same.

“Want anything else?”

You snort. “Are you going for a dessert buffet in your bed?”

He smiles and shakes his head. He raises your hand and his lips brush over your knuckles. “I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

You stare at him long enough for his smile to fade and his brow to knit and his head to tilt in question, and it’s so annoyingly endearing you don’t understand how you woke every morning of your life without someone like Jake Seresin. Someone who crafts smiles only for you. Someone who pays attention to your expressions and moods and alters their own in response. Someone who makes your heart want to snap the prison that is your ribcage and break through the wall of your chest so it can go burrow into his.

“I’m happy with you, Jake,” you say. “The cake is a bonus.”

His smile returns and your whole body swells with pride, because you did that. You salvaged the perfect curve of his lips that spread to reveal a row of perfect teeth. You brought back the delicate wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the sparkle that glints in the green.

Jake leans in and presses his lips to yours, gently so as to not embarrass you while the possibility of whispers and glares from fellow shoppers exists. But the kiss doesn’t match the rest of him. You can sense the tension in his body.

The plastic container holding the cake makes a loud pop under the pressure of his fingers, and you know he’d drop it if he could; make a mess on the floor so that hand could be free to touch you however it wants.

But Jake thinks about others, and it’s an ‘other’ that would have to clean up his moment of inconsiderate behavior, but thankfully, he is not that brand of asshole. You’ve been that ‘other’ in the past and you don’t care for a reminder of how rude people can be when they only care about themselves, especially not a reminder in the form of Jake.

“Let’s go,” he whispers against your lips, “before you get me into trouble.”

—

“Well,” you begin as you swallow the last bite and lick the remainder of the frosting off the fork, “It definitely tastes better in bed.”

Jake chuckles, accepting your empty container and fork so they can join his on his nightstand. “I’m glad there’s another reason for you to want to be in my bed.”

With an arch to your brow, you rest your head against his headboard. “Another reason?”

“Yes,” he says before he holds up three fingers. His left index finger taps his right. “Reason one: I’m pretty sure you like me, or, knowing you, you wouldn’t have agreed to the suggestion. That’s the best reason.” You grin and roll your eyes as he taps his middle finger. “Reason two: cake tastes better in my bed. My bed, not any other guy’s bed so don’t go trying that out.”

Jake’s face lights up with your laugh. “I won't,” you say. “Reason three?”

“Three is sleeping next to each other,” he replies, wiggling his ring finger. “I know we haven’t actually done that yet, but I promise I’ll be a damn good cuddler. You won’t ever want to leave.”

He didn’t have to say that for you to be well aware of it. Jake hasn’t even wrapped his arms around you yet and you’re already wishing to stave off morning so that once you're snuggled against the shape of his body you can stay there for as long as possible.

“Four?” you ask.

Jake swallows, suddenly misplacing a bit of his confidence, and it doesn't take much for you to figure out why. Most additional, and frankly, obvious, reasons to want to be in his bed lie outside of tested territory. The next logical steps of your relationship have gone undiscussed.

You know he’s waiting for you. Permitting his hands to touch more of your body recently is not enough for him to make his own moves. No matter how close his fingers come to the zippers of your clothes or your fingers get to the button of his jeans, it's not the flashing green light he needs to take things further.

But you can’t blame him. His pause is your creation, and while he hasn’t pushed for more, you know he badly he wants it. You want it, too, despite how you’ve acted.

Before, you weren’t sure if being with Jake would take something away from you, some sense of self that you’ve just reclaimed after years of people stealing their portion of you. Because, unlikely as it may sound, nothing is impossible; you’ve been misled more than once, and you couldn’t shake the one-percent chance that Jake would steal his portion, too.

But that was the invasion of your still damaged—but healing—mind. That was prior to him spilling his emotions so you could see for yourself how you make him feel. When you listen to your heart, the thought that Jake would leave you feeling hollow or lost or discarded after being with him becomes so unbelievable, so weightless and unformed, you couldn’t speak it aloud if you tried. In no life, world, universe, or alternate existence would Jake do that to you. Of that, you are positive.

“I’m still working on four,” he says.

Reaching over, you uncurl his pinky so it’s extended alongside the other three. Your thumb rubs slowly up and down the inside of that finger.

“Four is easy,” you tell him.

“Easy?” His eyes follow your body as you sit up and straddle him.

Palms land on your thighs and slide up, over your cotton shorts and hips, and under your shirt. His thumbs stroke the soft flesh of your navel as you rest your hands on the curves where his neck meets his shoulders. Your lips seal to his, and you kiss each other like you always do. Like he’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Like you’re a drug he can't get enough of.

You start to shift your hips, grinding downward, and though you get the pleasure of hearing his grunt, you know it’s not enough for him to understand that you want more, so you do it again. And again. And again, until his fingers are digging into your skin and he’s pulling you down harder against him with each of your motions.

But then, as if dunked in a bucket of ice water, he freezes. His lips are gone and he’s gripping you tight enough to stop you.

“Where are you going with this, beautiful?” he asks through heavy breaths, and you smile at how willing he is to sacrifice so much oxygen just to kiss you.

Leaning back, you slip your hand through the space between your bodies. Your fingers lightly trace along the band of his sweatpants before dipping behind the soft material and wrapping around him. His whole body jerks. Any words he might have said next lose to the gasp that leaves his mouth.

“Reason four,” you whisper, pulling him free.

“Fuck,” he hisses, falling back and letting the headboard support his weight.

You pump your hand once, twice, then shimmy down the mattress until your breath is ghosting over the hardness in your hand.

“H-Hey, whoa, wait, wait,” he rushes out, hand clasping your wrist. “Beautiful, this is not why I asked if you wanted to sleep in my bed. I don’t need anything like this to make being with you worth it for me, you know that, right?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Your thumb runs over his tip and his eyes screw shut. “Just tell me you know that.” When they open again, they’re full of desperation. “Please.”

“I know that,” you say with a nod and a reassuring smile. “But what if I want to do this? Even if I want it, do you want me to stop?”

“You can’t ask me that question when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Jake, do you want me to stop?” you ask once more, punctuating each word with a slight pause.

A bulge forms in his throat as he gulps. When he shakes his head, you close your mouth around him.

The whimper you pull from him is immediately added to the list of things you love about Jake Seresin—a sound so unexpected that a rush of excitement shoots through you, straight to your core, and all you want is to hear it on repeat until it’s seared into your mind. You take him in deep, deeper with every bob of your head, and when he nudges the back of your throat, his thighs tense, his hand flies to the back of your head, and his hips involuntarily buck upwards.

The resulting choking noise sobers him.

“Oh my god,” he sputters, removing his hand as if burned. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He cuts himself off with a moan as you suck hard on his tip and flick your tongue along its underside before releasing him.

Guilt is splashed across his features when your eyes meet his, but it eases when you grin and grab his hand, pulling it to your face so he’s cupping your cheek. Leaning into his palm, Jake expels a held-in breath and his face softens at knowing he didn’t hurt you. His thumb slides over your cheekbone. He smiles.

“Can I be inside you?” he asks.

Jake’s touch doesn’t fall from your face as you crawl up his body. His stare doesn’t break. When you’re close, his fingers weave into your hair and he guides you into his kiss.

“Is this a yes?” he whispers.

You sit up in front of him, your knees on either side of his legs.

“Yes” is a half-second off your tongue and Jake is tucking his thumbs into the waist of your sleep shorts, slowly pushing them over your ass and down your thighs. Those green eyes drink you in, and while your skin flushes under the intensity of his gaze, you feel him filling you with confidence.

The fact that he bothers to look at you at all makes you want to give him everything. No other man took the time to really look at you—to appreciate you. It was whip-quick criticisms before dull, drunken, lazy, uninspired, over-before-it-even-started sex where they were closing their eyes from either an inability to keep them open or to imagine someone else in place of you. But Jake practically absorbs every inch of you that he can see.

Rough fingertips graze through your folds. His thumb rolls over the sensitive little bud and your body shudders, chasing after his hand even as he pulls it away to examine the slickness now coating his fingers.

“Fuck,” is almost inaudible from his lips. “You’re gonna ruin me,” you think you hear him say, but it’s drowned out by the pounding pulse in your ears.

You don’t stop to dwell on what you think you might’ve heard and instead reach for the hem of your t-shirt to pull it over your head. Jake blinks, glances up at you, and then everything descends into a flurry of hurried movements as you discard your shorts and Jake yanks his shirt over his head, reaches into the bedside drawer for a condom, tears the packet open, and rolls it down his length. His sweatpants are pushed farther down his legs, then with his hands gripping your thighs just below your ass, he pulls you to him, spreads you open, and guides you down until you’re seated on top of him and his entire cock is fit snugly inside of you.

The air is punched out of your lungs as your walls welcome and flutter around him. Your words are half-formed curses and mutterings of pleasure as Jake groans and wraps his arms around you, hugging you to his body.

His forehead falls against your chest. “You have no idea…” he says through a weak breath, “no idea how much I've–”

“Yes, I do,” you whisper to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You're not the only one who has wanted this.”

Jake nods. He plants a gentle kiss on the smooth swell of each of your breasts. Then, at an agonizingly slow pace, you lift your hips and sink back down onto him. Supported by Jake’s strength, you lift and sink and lift and sink, feeling every ridge and every curve of every vein of his cock as he slides in and out of you.

He’s so different and so good and you’re so satisfied to know that you were right. Jake Seresin will never leave you feeling lost. But he does allow you to lose yourself, to let go, to be free and safe in the company of his kisses and moans and touch. He allows you to be you—the you that is happy and cared for. The you that is loved.

—

It’s not often that you are a heavy sleeper, but Jake dragged you into a blissful peace so welcoming and comfortable that for the first night in a long time, you went undisturbed. That peace made it through the night, into the early hours of morning, and remained as sunlight trickled through the curtains to wake you.

Your eyelids flutter open and you glance to where Jake’s arm is draped over your waist. As you flip over, his brow pinches and that arm tucks you back into him so your chest is to his. You think he’s about to join you in waking, but when his unconscious is satisfied with the new positioning of your bodies, his barely-there snores resume. Chuckling, you press your lips to his in a quick kiss that smoothes the crease between his brows.

He’s so beautiful like this. Mouth parted, hair touseled, muscles relaxed, with eyelashes resting on his cheeks. They’re much longer than you realized. The tips are blond and against his tanned skin, they’re almost luminescent. You want to run your finger over them, but that will force him awake, and he looks far from ready to rise for the day, so you don’t.

You consider getting out of bed; an idea quickly washed away when you weigh how cozy and warm Jake is compared to the rest of the room. Not to mention, you can’t say for sure exactly where your clothes are other than that they are definitely somewhere in Jake’s room. Those combined, you refuse to move, and not moving leads your eyes to close, which leads you back into that peaceful sleep.

—

It’s hours later when you stir. You notice your clothes are folded by your feet and you look beside you to find Jake missing. But you hear his voice—his and another’s.

Tossing the comforter off your legs, you dress and tiptoe your way to Jake’s door. The sliver of space between the door and its frame is not wide enough for you to see anything other than the framed pictures on the living room wall, but it doesn’t inhibit your ability to pick up the conversation you can tell is coming from the kitchen.

“You haven’t told her?” you hear in Millie’s sweet, southern tone. “I can’t keep up with you two.”

“I was going to tell her at dinner,” Jake defends, “but things were good and she was happy. And I was going to try again once we got back here but I pictured the look on her face when she cries and it kills me, Millie.”

Your throat suddenly feels swollen and you struggle to swallow as you press yourself as close to the opening in the doorway as possible.

“Honey, I know you don’t wanna hurt her, but there’s no way around this,” Millie says.

“I know.” He sighs heavily. “Can you do me a favor, though? Can you watch out for her?”

“Of course, but Jake, she can handle herself.”

“I know she can. She’s better at that than most people will ever be,” he tells her. “But you wouldn’t be doing this for her, you’d be doing it for me. I can’t stand the thought of her feeling alone,” he says. “I can’t take that with me.”

“She won’t be alone,” your friend says, but Jake doesn’t respond. “Jake, I promise.”

You can’t see what he does; if he nods, if he smiles, if he mouths a silent ‘thank you’. They’re both quiet, so you’re quieter.

In their silence, you try to process the words you’ve heard, but Millie’s sweet voice interrupts your racing thoughts.

“You boys need to be careful and bring each other home,” she tells Jake. “Your ladies are gonna be waitin’ on you.”

“Assuming mine won’t hate me for not telling her the minute I knew about it.”

“You only found out yesterday,” Millie says. “It’s not easy. Bradley hates tellin’ me, too…this time especially.”

You don’t if they say more because, once again, Jake has your pulse going so strong and fast that it’s pounding in your ears, but now for an entirely different reason than last night. Your heart plummets into your stomach and you inch away from the door until the back of your knees hit the mattress, forcing you to sit. As stiffness settles into your limbs, your spine goes limp as a noodle and you’re sure your posture shows it, but you don’t have it in you to stretch out your arms and legs or strengthen your back. You’re a dead weight on the bed. Dead and damp from the tear that leaked down your cheek onto your thigh.

It’s the first tear of what you know will be many more to come.

Because soon, Jake will be leaving.

---

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