#and they PICKED MY LOCK !!! because they had a flat party the day after i left | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

Jamie tartt friends with benefits would be very fun! I love how you write Jamie it’s so so incredibly lovely

I wrote this bc I’m mad about old men trying to tell me how to do my job.

soft hands hit the jagged ground

It starts off as a joke, really.

You’re both at the same party and arguing about who’s the better kisser, when suddenly your lips are on Jamie’s and neither of you are quite sure who made the first move.

You don’t talk much, just enough to say that this competition extends to other physical activities and to order a car, so a few hours later you collapse exhausted on the bed in your flat.

“Fuck,” Jamie gasps.

“Fuck,” you agree.

“We’ve got to do this again sometime,” he says, hand on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Give me ten minutes,” you reply. “Can’t let my twenties go to waste now, can I?”

So yeah, it’s like a thing.

It’s not a romantic thing, that’s for sure.

It’s a “we just won a match” thing, or a “I had a shit day at work” thing, or “I need to blow off steam and can’t be bothered to pick up a stranger at the club” thing.

No, romance does not factor in. This is strictly a friendship-type deal.

It’s great, because neither of you actually has time for a relationship, and hookups are so hit or miss. And besides, you’ve never been extremely thrilled at the idea of some random person knowing where you live. And Jamie’s a little worried that someone will try to steal his jerseys.

(Not worried enough, apparently, because you manage to make off with one from his Man City days.)

You both swore that neither of you would catch feelings and maybe that would have been true except for the evening Jamie called you and said, “Can I come over?” in a voice you’ve never heard before.

You’ve barely hung up the phone when he’s knocking at your door, dressed in a suit and actual dress shoes, not trainers, hands leaving your body only for a moment to shut the door and turn the lock.

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world, all slow and hungry.

He touches you almost like you’re someone else, and you’d think it’s strange except you can’t think of anything other than the fact that his body is pressed against yours and he’s holding you like it means something.

You don’t say anything until you’re walking back to your room wrapped in a towel, water bottles in hand.

“What was that about?” you ask, handing him his water.

Jamie barely lifts his head. He decides not to play dumb, to be a little bit truthful. He’s not sure why, maybe because he’s still coming down and his brain doesn’t work proper.

“Me and the lads were at a funeral today. For Ms. Welton’s dad. Made me feel all fuckin’… strange and shit. Dunno.” He takes a sip of his water and you settle in the bed next to him.

You nod and say, “Makes sense.” It does. Funerals are fucking strange. The last one you went to had you feeling weird for a month so yeah, you get it.

You’re both silent for a while longer when Jamie blurts out, “I told Keeley I still loved her,” and then you’re silent again, but it’s a different kind of quiet. The kind where you can practically hear the words oh shit hanging in the air.

A couple things click into place where they probably shouldn’t, and so you take your cues from Jamie and say what’s on your mind as you blurt out, “Is that who you were thinking of?”

Jamie goes completely still, which is also strange because he’s never still. Always tapping or shifting around or something.

“Right,” you say, far too brightly. It’s fine, after all. “I understand. Yeah, no, makes sense.”

You’re not sure what else to say after that so you kind of just sit there and wait for Jamie to move again. He does, sits up enough to grab his knickers from where he dropped them off the side of your bed, slide them on, and say, “Better get going. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you say halfheartedly, suddenly very, very tired. It’s doesn’t escape your notice that Jamie doesn’t meet your eyes the entire time he collects his clothes and heads out the door.

You manage to get up and fish a new pair of underwear from one drawer and a sleep shirt from another, and it’s not until you’re back in your bed that you realize it’s Jamie’s 51 kit.

But you’re too tired to get up and change so you just leave it and pass out.

—

You wake up the next morning with way too many emotions to consider, so you let yourself buy a coffee from the shop instead of making one at home. You get an extra shot of espresso to block out the great big warning bells firing in your head.

You’re not-so-blissfully unaware of the fact that Jamie’s on the other side of town having a similar morning. One that involves going to Nelson Road early to sneak in some extra cardio so he can work off whatever feelings still linger from last night.

For a brief moment, he considers going to Dr. Sharon. But no, there’s no need for that because it’s all straightforward, innit? He’s a little fucked from the funeral and telling Keeley he loves her, and all he needs is one more good fuck and then it’s all out of his system.

Except whenever he thinks about your face of all body parts, his chest gets all squeezy. And worse.

So maybe it’s not so straightforward.

He does fucking love Keeley, right? He’d take a bullet for her, and he misses talking to her every day. He scrunches up his face and imagines kissing her, nothing too wild, and it doesn’t make his chest tighten.

That’s a good thing.

Right?

—

By the time you get home from work, you’ve decided that it’s fine. It’s weird that he was thinking about someone else, but it doesn’t mean anything. Honestly, you two are just messing around until one of you decides to get into a relationship. So yeah, it’s all good. It’s not like you’d date him anyway.

You’ve been pushing away thoughts like that for years, you’re not about to let them surface now.

—

Jamie does not particularly want to talk to Dr. Sharon about this. He wants to talk to Keeley, except last time he tried that she walked him all the way to the therapist’s office and left him there.

He thinks maybe Ted would be good, except he’s not sure Ted would know how to deal with Jamie’s whole “friends with benefits” situation.

Beard probably would, except his relationship with Jane is one step away from psychotic, so Jamie thinks that he’ll talk to Sam because Sam is smart and probably won’t judge him.

It works out, actually, because he’s going over to Sam’s for a sleepover since they have an out-of-town match the next day, and need to be up early. Jamie hates waking up early so Sam promised to make sure he wouldn’t press the snooze button on his alarm.

So yeah, now he’s in Sam’s car (a fucking Tesla, all eco-friendly and shit) and they’re talking about training and brand deals and Jamie asks if Sam’s got a girl, but Sam just blushes and says I don’t know, not anymore before turning the question on Jamie.

Jamie sighs and puts his face in his hands. “Let’s wait till we ain’t in your fucking car, yeah? It’s too fucking long to say here.”

Sam obliges and just turns up the radio for next eight minutes it takes to get to his house.

Jamie hauls his bag into Sam’s flat and down on the guest room floor before taking a deep fucking breath.

Right. He can do this.

He makes his way to the kitchen where Sam’s pulling something out of a crock pot and Jamie is a little envious of his ability to cook so well for himself.

Sam is oblivious to Jamie’s internal monologue as he says, “Alright, this girl. Tell me about her.”’

Jamie takes another breath and then the words just come spilling out.

“I’ve known her since we were fucking…fifteen or some shit and like, we’ve always been friends. But lately it’s been like, what’s the word, friends with benefits? Where we have sex but aren’t dating. It’s been alright, mostly, except yesterday I told Keeley I loved her and things got all fucked up in me head.”

“How so?” Sam prods encouragingly.

“It’s like…” Jamie pauses. What is it like? “Thinking about kissing Keeley didn’t make me all tingly or nothing. Dunno, felt- wrong. But I think of her face-” he groans. “Shit, man, me heart started pounding like mad. I’ve seen her naked, and it’s her face that gets me. I mean, what the fuck is that?”

Sam’s face is doing some weird contortionist movement, trying to hide his expression, so Jamie says, “Fucking hell man, spit it out before you break something,” and Sam says,

“I don’t think you love Keeley.”

That makes Jamie mad. Of course he loves Keeley. He’d do anything for Keeley.

Sam must see it written in his face because he hurries on. “I don’t mean that you don’t have love for her. I mean that you do not seem to love her romantically. It would seem to me you like this other girl.”

Well shit. That’s exactly what Jamie was afraid of. Leave it to Sam to get to the heart of the problem in five minutes, only this leaves him with another problem:

He’s spent the last nine years pretending like he had only friendly feelings toward you. Innocent, like.

He can’t let all that pretending go to waste now.

—

You don’t see each other for a week which is fine, because you had decided way beforehand not to meet up until the next weekend. You were finishing a major project at work and he was wrapping up a killer week at training. Hence, Friday night was the night to blow off all that steam.

You’ve successfully squashed any feelings for Jamie. They’re gone, buried deep down once again and you will not let them come back up.

And yet, you’ve put on a pink set under your shirt and sweat shorts, with a little more makeup than you’d gone to work with. Maybe the whole Keeley thing is lingering in your head a little more than you thought.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

You grab your keys and head out the door to Jamie’s house.

—

Jamie’s already texted you to let you know the door’s open, so you slip in and turn the lock behind you. The foyer is lit with a dim glow from upstairs.

“Jamie?” you call softly, “You here?”

There’s no response, so you pad up the stairs, stopping only to drop your keys on top of the table in the hall.

“Jamie?” you say again, peering into his bedroom. Ah. So that’s where the light’s coming from.

Jamie jumps from where he’s been bending over a candle. “Shit, you scared me. Didn’t hear you fucking come in.”

You smile tentatively, unsure what to say. Jamie shakes out the match and crosses over to the ensuite to drop it into the sink. He comes back out again and dips you into a kiss.

He says, “Nice shirt,” with his lips still against yours, and it’s only then that you remember you’ve put on his old kit, the one you stole the second time you went home with him.

You grin and kiss him again, waiting to be on your own two feet again so you can slide a hand under his sweatshirt. Neither of you have worn anything particularly amazing because it’s what’s underneath that counts, isn’t it?

Jamie’s thinking something similar because he starts backing you up to the bed as you fumble to slip shirts over heads and pants down on the floor. He traces an appreciative palm over a pink flower appliqué, and then you push the last traces of doubt as he hooks a finger under your waistband.

—

“What’s with all the candles?” you ask, when it’s dark enough to be considered nighttime but the clock says it’s technically morning.

“Setting the mood,” Jamie replies, voice gravely and just a little bit raw.

“Hmm,” you say. “Glad you didn’t burn the house down.”

Jamie’s been pressing kisses up your bare arm and you can feel him grin at that. “Psh. I’m an adult now. I’m fuckin’ responsible.”

“Sure,” you chuckle, then shiver as Jamie’s mouth has found its way to a spot behind your ear. “You ready to go again?”

“No,” Jamie replies between kisses, “What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” you say as you roll on top of him. You trace his lower lip with your thumb, and he takes that opportunity to his it. And to run his knuckles up your sides.

“Fucker,” you hiss. “That tickles.”

He smirks, a real one, with his eyes all heavy-lidded and the barest hint of his teeth gleaming in the candlelight.

“Yeah?” he whispers. “What about this? Does this tickle?”

He actually fucking dances his fingertips up your sides as you gasp and try to get off of him. He’s not having it, because he rolls you over and continues tickling you as if you hadn’t just been fucking fifteen minutes ago.

You’re laughing and half-heartedly pushing at him and it’s so ridiculous that you stop trying to get him away and instead press as much of your skin against his as you can.

He’s whispering in your ear, a combination of crude jokes and compliments, the kind that makes a blush bloom from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears.

God fucking damn it, he’s going to be the death of you, but you can’t make yourself stop smiling.

He’s still murmuring in your ear and he’s saying something about how fucking gorgeous you look, how fucking beautiful you’d look on the side of the pitch with his number on or as his date to some event and how everyone would be jealous because you’re so fucking hot, but you belong with him and he’s the one who gets to see you last thing at night and first thing in the morning.

It’s so utterly ridiculous.

He’s only saying it because he’s so far gone.

It’s so. Utterly. Ridiculous.

“Jamie, we can’t date,” you say between giggles.

He pauses to ask “Why not?” and the remnants of your laughter die in your throat. Oh shit. One good look at his face tells you he’s not joking.

“Jamie,” you say again, this time more seriously, “Jamie, we really can’t date. That’s not how this works. You’re supposed to date a model or an actress or something, and I’m supposed to date, like, an accountant. Or a lawyer.”

“Why?” Jamie asks, accent thick as it’s ever been.

“Because,” you reply. “I’m not really the trophy-girlfriend type. And… we’ve been friends pretty much forever. It’d mess everything up when we break up.” He’s still on top of you, propping himself up on his elbows so he can see your face. You want to point out that this is a conversation that probably requires clothing, but you don’t actually want that so you stay silent.

“What if we didn’t break up?” he suggests.

You bark out a short laugh. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just choose not to break up.”

“Can,” he responds.

“Can’t,” you counter.

“Don’t be Roy Kent,” he says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you reply. “And anyway, I’m way sexier than him. And less scratchy.”

“You fucking like when I tell you what to do,” he says.

You make a face. “I like it when it’s sexy. This is not sexy. This is sad and stupid, and we promised we wouldn’t have this conversation.”

“You promised,” Jamie reminds you. “I just didn’t disagree.”

He’s not wrong.

“Fine,” you say, pushing him a little so he’ll get off you.

You sit up and wrap the sheets around your chest, pulling your knees close. “You told me less than a week ago that you were still in love with Keeley, and now you want me to date you? I love you, but you’re just getting your wires crossed because we’re having sex.”

Jamie shoots up, mouth open and you realize what you just said.

“Shit, not like that, I mean as a friend, not- not as- I don’t know, I didn’t mean to say that,” you stutter out.

“I love Keeley as a friend,” Jamie says. “Talked to Sam about it, and he says I don’t know how to tell the difference between a friend and fucking romance. He said I’m fucking in love with you, not her, and he’s fucking right.”

You’d say that sounds like the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard, except you’ve known Jamie for nine years and yeah, that sounds like something he’d do.

“Right,” you say slowly, “and you just now started feeling this way?”

He hesitates before deciding fuck it. “Nah. I think- I’ve been pretending like I didn’t since we were like, fuckin’ sixteen, probably. Didn’t want to screw it up though, did I?”

You shake your head before saying, “No, I guess not.”

“And anyway, us being together is that different from what we do now,” he continues. “Dating just means we can like, hold hands.”

You laugh and ask, “Is that the only thing that’s going to change?” but you can feel your resolve softening. Jamie can feel it too.

“Nah,” he says, feeling confident to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I can tell you that I love you. And kiss you just because. And get me mum off my back about never making a move on you.”

You say, “Hmm,” as if you’re considering it, but he knows you’ve already made your decision by the way you reach for him with both hands with a smile beginning to bloom across your face.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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pugh-bug · 7 months ago

Text

No.42 Chapter 4

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list 💕 thank you so much for the love on this series so far I’m really grateful !

Part 3

——————————————————————

‘You should see him after a few games, it’s a lot.’

With a mouth full of burrito, you still managed to laugh at the image Liam and Art were conjuring of Patrick’s sunburn turning him beetroot. The three of you were sat at a cute little place you’d somehow never seen before, probably because you didn’t know the area that well. Art’s choice.

‘So how’s living with this one?’ Liam asked, spitting hummus everywhere as he spoke. Neither you or Art had known who his question was for so you both yelped

‘Good!’

A little too enthusiastically for Liam.

Art’s hair had dried perfectly in the piercing sun rays and the smell of his mint shampoo kept wafting in your direction whenever the breeze turned. Shit. You were supposed to be listening to Liam. What was he saying?’

‘Fridays good.’ Art nodded at his friend, not looking at you for conformation. Clearly someone had been listening. You waited until Liam was texting his girlfriend to hiss at Art what he’d just agreed to - the answer ? - a party at Liam’s.

‘Are you sure it’s okay … if I come?’ Neither boy missed the slight sadness in your question. Your search for validation and fear of the wrong outcome. As Liam beamed at you, reassuring your brain that you were indeed very much wanted at his party and that ‘it won’t be the same without you’ Art’s eyes were locked on your face. You failed to notice.

‘So don’t worry about it okay? It’s not a tennis people thing, just a Liam friends thing.’ He smiled, very genuinely, and you smiled back. When Liam went to the bathroom he noticed Art was picking aggressively at the table, something he’d never seen him do before.

Without looking up from his task of picking through wood one mm at a time, Art asked coldly. ‘When did Patrick say he’d be back?’ Oh fuck it was Sunday! Better check your phone.

2 missed messages.

12:03pm - Text from Patrick

It’s not going well at all. She keeps starting shit with me for no reason she’s a lot to deal with if I’m being honest. Hope your day is better than mine so far

1:26pm - Text from Patrick

You’ve gotta pick me up Y/N I can’t stay here with these people until 9 I’ll catch arsehole disease

Just as you thought of a reply that was both supportive and concerned your phone lit up. Patrick was calling.

‘Pat hey! I didn’t expect to hear fro-‘

‘Pick me up.’

‘Jesus okay-‘

‘Pretty please Y/N I’ll send you my location right now just get here.’

He had a tendency to overreact to uncomfortable situations but you could hear the genuine panic and defeat in his voice. You had to help him.

‘Okay okay but … what’s wrong with Uber?’

‘I can’t afford it.’

You took a deep breath, gesturing to Art to stop mouthing ‘what’s happening?’ so you could concentrate.

‘Okay let me just tell Art-‘

‘Art’s there? Get him to come, he knows the way.’

‘Okay.’

Whilst you explained to Liam the rough situation, Art ran to your flat to fetch his car. With how little time it took him to return you wondered why he hadn’t become a runner instead? He must have done track, at-least.

——————————————————————

It was an hour drive to Patrick’s girls place. 45 minutes on Sundays. You waited until Art had gotten to the motorway before you asked the million dollar question.

‘So… Patrick said you knew the way. How? This is nowhere near anyone’s house that we know.’

Art chuckled, his delicate hand barely touching the wheel when he casually changed lanes at 70mph. His car smelt like him, you tried not to breathe heavier to encase yourself in his scent more intensely. It was growing difficult.

‘Well, I actually … dated Hannah before he did.’

He adjusted his mirror to watch the arsehole behind drive up his ass, for a moment you noticed him looking at the window. If Art ‘his mother could have knitted him’ Donaldson was about to roll the window down to flip someone off you were in for a treat.

‘How long for? Did Patrick even ask bef-‘

‘Does Patrick ever ask you for permission to do something?’

No. Not once.

‘It doesn’t bother me. We weren’t serious and it was a few years before he asked her out.’

You both envied and pitied this Hannah girl who Art seemed to care so little for.

‘Is it not a bit weird though? I wouldn’t want my exes fucking my friends.’

Art glanced over to you, he was driving at 60 again so you weren’t as inclined to grasp the door handle. He looked a little puzzled at your remarks or maybe it was amusement. ‘You thought we’d have different types?’

‘Yes, one hundred percent.’

‘We usually do. Hannah is probably more Patrick’s type.’

Your pity for Hannah grew once again.

‘But clearly, not more compatible.’

When you looked at Art he was frowning. He might have been looking at the road but you knew he was remembering something, something bitter.

You reread Patrick’s text: ‘She’s a lot to deal with.’ but that could mean anything from she takes too long getting ready to she needs to be kept away from others. Once Art said you were close you felt a little uneasy, like you needed to mentally prepare to deal with this girl. If she’d frightened Patrick she had to have something very wrong with her.

‘Art?’

He looked out of it.

‘Is there anything I should know, anything I should maybe avoid saying or doing with this… Hannah? Patrick sounded - I don’t wanna say scared bu-‘

‘Oh he’ll be scared,’ you felt genuine dread for a moment until you saw Art looked solemn not worried. He hid it behind a forced chuckle, as if what he was about to say was a funny anecdote he whipped out at parties to break the ice. ‘She can be a lot.’ There goes that word again. ‘She’s probably the only person I’ve ever met who puts tennis above - well - breathing and she thinks if you’re not playing tennis twelve hours a day everyday you’re letting yourself and her down.’

‘Sounds obsessive.’

‘I did warn him.’

As you pulled up to Hannah’s house you felt a twinge, or an aggressive increase, of guilt for your comment the night before. You should have saved your judgement for Hannah, clearly tennis was her entire life and Art had disagreed with her. Patrick certainly would.

He was sat on her doorstep, like a lost puppy waiting for its owner, but he still gave a quick wave before walking over.

‘Thank you!’ Patrick exclaimed once he was in the car. ‘You two just saved me, I was about to let her coach me just so she’d stop fucking yelling.’ He was sweating and slightly out of breath, poor thing.

‘Art, don’t you wanna go say hi?’

‘Funny…’

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn

#art donaldson friends to lovers #art Donaldson x reader #art donaldson slow burn #art donaldson series #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fanfiction #art donaldson x reader slow burn #art donaldson x reader friends to lovers #challengers #challengers fanfic #Mike faist #no.42

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a-very-bored-blogger · 1 year ago

Text

loved.

pairing: johnny 'soap' mactavish x afab! reader

word count: 1.28k

genre: angst, hurt to comfort? insecurity speaking??

notes: this was supposed to be for secret Santa for @kitkatscabinet!! i love you so much and I am so goddamn sorry if this sounds so fucking rushed right now!!! ill update it soon because I do plan to make it longer!

You didn’t know what you had witnessed. Everything was crumbling apart. This was not how things were supposed to go. You never expected things to go this way, and yet it did.

You have been together with Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish for a couple of months now, and knowing how terrifyingly difficult his job is, you knew that you shouldn’t ask much regarding his work or what it is he does.

Yet every day spent with him forces a thought to linger around your head, making you question whether or not you’re good enough.

The thought swallows you whole.

“Love, you alright there?” his eyes averted to yours as he gently picked up your palm. He takes it, putting it against his cheek, leaning to the warmth of your palm. Your confused look immediately turned into one with a smile.

His cerulean blues looked back at you, an almost puppy-like smile staring down at you. Innocent as he is, his feelings are deep and real. You were his safe anchor, his escape from all this ratched madness whirling in his life. You can’t ruin his safe haven. You need to be perfect for this man.

So you gobbled up those thoughts and sealed them away in a box.

“I’m alright. Just some thoughts on my mind. Nothing to worry about.” You uttered, a slight gulp erupting to your throat. A fake smile still lingers on your face.

He moves closer, leaning against your body on the sofa. The soft, warm lights illuminated his features, his scruffy beard, his messy mohawk, and his shit-eating smile. God, he was fucking perfect.

Or so you thought.

September 4th- was your boyfriend’s birthday. You have organized a party just for him. A surprise and everything. You do know about his killer sweet tooth, so a chocolate cake with vanilla frosting was ordered from his favorite bakery. You invited his mates and some of yours to help you organize this beautiful celebration.

Everything was coming together so well.

The lights were off, and soft, sudden footsteps were heard from outside the door. You hid underneath the table before hearing a familiar jangle of keys.

“Surprise!” you all chanted in joy. The absolute shock in his face was shown as you slowly came up to him to welcome him in a tight embrace, capturing him in a tight-locked kiss. It was beautiful passionate, and everything stood still for a second. You could hear the chants and cheers of everyone else coming from the background, yet you both couldn’t care. Your love for each other was unstoppable.

Your boyfriend broke open the kiss. He smiles solemnly before chanting out. "Thanks, love. You're the fucking best, eh?" were what he said before being swooped over by a crowd wishing him a very amazing birthday.

You laughed and snickered. On your right hand was a glass of wine, swirling through the cusps of your fingers as you laughed along with your coworker.

Your brain got a bit fuzzy, having to excuse yourself to the bathroom after too many drinks. You gasped as you could not believe what you were seeing.

Behind the curtains of the living room was a silhouette of a figure with a mohawk, similar to your boyfriend’s, caught in a locked kiss with a long haired woman.. Your eyes couldn’t believe it. You rushed out, tears falling, puffy red cheeks and all. It was a horrid sight. You couldn’t take it any longer.

You ran back to your old flat, keys jangling, before jumping on to the couch, bawling your eyes out. Your suspicions were true. You weren’t good enough for him. He chose someone else- you are not what he wants. You knew that someone loved you for once- it all felt too good to be true.

You opened your phone, your eyes darting onto the small red text that writes out:

“10 missed calls from ‘Johnny <3’.”

You didn’t care anymore. All your feelings warbled into one as the only thing that came out were more tears. It was over between you two; it doesn’t matter anymore. He has made his choice- you weren’t good enough for him.

A few days passed, endless amounts of coffee cups stacking on top of each other on your kitchen sink. The circles beneath your eyes darkened. You have almost completely ignored your Whatsapp entirely, coming close to anger every time you see Johnny’s contact call or text you for what seems like the millionth time.

He wasn’t wrong though- you deserved nothing, after all right? You try to shove those thoughts out, tell yourself that he’s the jerk, he’s the asshole for betraying your trust, stabbing your heart and ripping it to shreds just like that. Your inner demons were eating you whole.

It felt like drowning once again. The feelings were about to arise once again, tears choking out of your eyes as they start to puff up for a thousandth time.

The doorbells rings. Once or twice, ringing constantly, until you hear a constant bang on the door. Then, you hear it.

“Open up, aye! Sweetheart come on, talk to me please!” a thick Scottish accent grumbled from out of your door.

Your mind raced back, remembering what he just did, and what he does deserve- a girl like that. Yet, your heart aches, wanting to just be with him.

Taking a deep breath, a few steps forward is what you take, before opening the door.

And there it was- your unofficial ex boyfriend- Johnny Mactavish, out in the flesh like you expected. He didn’t look good either, similar looking eyebags to yours, a stained white shirt and some old jeans, as well as some unkept hair.

You both weren’t in the best state- and it shows.

He looks up, and down to you realizing what a mess it is he has made.

“Tell me what it is I’ve done wrong.” Johnny states.

You were astounded. The logic isn’t making clicking in your head. He would’ve apologized by now if he did cheat on you, but instead he’s confused. He’s guilty, as told from his apparel, and he hauled his ass to come to see you- there’s something wrong.

You gulped. “Come in. “

His eyes scanned the room, seeing the stains on your carpet, the untidy blankets and the scattered items on the floor.

You sat down on the couch, motioning for him to sit as well.

“I saw you…kissing another woman…well a silhouette of you.” You uttered, directly.

His eyes widened, and his mouth quivered, a lost of words. Disbelief ran over his face as a whirlwind of emotions washes him through entirely.

"Love, that was my mother." He says plainly, holding out your hand, watching as guilt eats away your body.

He was certainly not expecting the hug you were attacking him with.

Tears ran over your face, as 'sorry's were repeated over and over again, as you hid yourself on the crook of his neck.

"Lovie, don't be sorry…I'm here now, that's what matters." He whispered, rubbing your back in circles with his palm, pushing you closer.

Breathing and sniffling, you took a deep breath before articulating your words.

"I…just thought you…were making out with someone, cause I thought I wasn't good enough for you…" you uttered softly.

Johnny sighs, closing his eyes before shaking his head.

He puts a palm on your cheek, caressing it slowly before kissing your head lovingly. "Don't ever say that. I date you because you're the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me. "

You wiped your tears before asking once again.

"Really?"

He nods.

"And I'll show you how much I fuckin' mean it." He utters, before dragging you back onto his lap.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #x reader #cod fanfic #cod soap #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #john soap mctavish x reader #hurt to comfort #im hurtin #comfort #romance #angst x reader #cod angst

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swanimagines · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! If requests are open, can I request an imagine where Enola has a sibling (or sister) that is constantly trying to prove to Enola their worth, but gets hurt in a case and worries her instead and she helps with their self worth?

A/N: A small note in case anyone is wondering: in my newer sibling fics, reader is always adopted so this would fit everyone who wants to read this :)

It’s just a small mystery that won’t be that serious, you thought as you stepped through the rusty gates. The seamstress is most likely fine, this is just a small misunderstanding. Enola is too busy to try to solve these things that are obvious cases, that’s why she threw this letter away.

You had secretly watched Enola from the stairway, who had been going through her mail. She had been looking through one of the letters and then just throwing it away. It wasn’t like her, but you figured it’s something too easy she wouldn’t get paid for, so she threw it away. Which, again, wasn’t like her, but all you saw was an opportunity. If you picked that letter up from the trash and went to check the case out, Enola could be surprised and proud how resourceful you were, and would surely give you another chance then.

“It’s too dangerous,” she had told you when you had tried to plead with her last time. “You’re too young, you’d need to train—”

“I can train!” you exclaimed, smiling. “I will train, and I will become strong and fast like you.”

She sighed, taking your hand, running her thumb over your knuckles. “There’s still that other problem. You’re too young. I can’t risk it. You need to grow a little and train, and one day I could maybe take you along.”

You scoffed, prying your hands away from her. “That’s not fair, you started when you were my age.”

“I was forced to, in case you don’t remember,” she sighed, turning back to her desk. “Our mother was missing, and our brothers weren’t—”

You interrupted her, “I remember. You found her and on the side, you found Tewkie, saved his life and fell in love with him.” You rolled your eyes. “True love story.”

She was quiet for a moment, laying her hands flat on the desk, staring at the documents on it. “I understand why you feel offended by it, and that it feels like I don’t believe in you. But when I worked on that case, I almost got killed, more than once. I can’t risk it for you.”

You stared at her for a moment longer, but she just shook her head and sat down, starting to go through her mail. You groaned and marched upstairs, making sure the whole building pounded with your footsteps. You knew it was childish, and further made clear to Enola that you weren’t ready for jobs, but you just couldn’t bear to stand by and watch as your sister went on all those exciting adventures.

So, the next time Enola was out of the building, you snuck downstairs and knelt next to the trash bin, digging it for a moment before you found it.

“Miss Birkin… the seamstress having gone missing,” you mumbled, tracing the words on the letter. “Last seen two weeks ago, she didn’t show up to her sister’s birthday party.”

The directions to the meeting point were below, where you were supposedly going to meet her sister. So you took your bag, stuck the letter in there and left the house.

The sun was already setting when you pushed through the old creaky gates. and found yourself in a dim alleyway where you could barely see. You looked around, trying to see if there was someone with you, but it was too dark.

Dread filled you, a gnawing feeling that something was wrong. Every single nerve end screamed for you to run, but you were too stubborn to leave — you had taken this job, you should finish it. Going back and whimpering and having to tell Enola you failed because you got too scared wasn’t an option.

Then, a shadow. A large shadow, right at the end of the alleyway.

“H-hello?” you squeaked out, and right after that, you heard a loud clunk and you screamed, spinning around to see a large, bulky man closing the gate with a chain and a lock.

“It’s not Holmes,” someone said from behind you, and you felt something sharp pressing to your side. “Who are you?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make up a way to escape, but came up with nothing. “I-I’m nobody, I just… I ordered something from Miss Birkin, is she here?”

The man snickered as he pressed himself closer to you, his disgusting breath blowing into your face. “I’m afraid Miss Birkin doesn’t exist, and the only person knowing that name would be Enola Holmes, but you’re not her. You’re too small, too young to be her. Too scared. But I bet you’re someone important to miss Holmes, aren’t you? Maybe a little sibling who snooped through her papers?”

Your heart thrummed a little louder, sweat trickling down your forehead. But you still uttered out, “I… I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m just here to—.”

“Lying won’t help you, little one. You’re neck deep in trouble now.” He then shifted to look at the man at the gates. “What will we do with this one?”

The man growled in frustration. “We’ll take ‘em to the boss. He’ll decide what to do.He will be enraged that we didn’t catch that little brat detective, but if this one is a Holmes too and we will let ‘em go, he’ll have our heads for it.”

The guy behind you nodded and the next moment, you were bagged and dragged deeper to the alleyway.

The sack smelled of damp fabric and sweat, making it difficult to not cough. The other man, you guessed the larger one, had wrung your hands together behind your back and pushed you forward. You tried to count steps, take mental notes of turns, but eventually you had to give up. The pain combined with fear were too distracting on their own already.

Finally, you were led to a building, and you heard chatter briefly, which was silenced when you were brought in. Stairs up, turn right, a long hallway… three knocks and you were pushed inside a room and pushed onto a chair before the bag was finally taken off your head, and you couldn’t keep in your coughs.

The man in front of you eyed you for a moment with a scowl, and then lifted his eyes to the two men above you. “Who’s this? I told you to bring me Enola Holmes, this is not her.”

“We know, boss,” the slimmer guy drawled. “But we have a strong suspicion that this one is her little sibling, or her friend. She knew about the details we only sent to Miss Holmes.”

The man immediately started to smile, and sat behind his desk. “Well, that does change things. Miss Holmes will likely be here in no time.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know anyone named Enola—”

The larger pushed the back of your head, making you jerk onwards. “You only speak when spoken to!”

The man in front of you smiled and held up a hand. “Now, now, Mr. Martin. No need to be rough with them. They’re our guest.”

Mr. Martin sighed. “Right, boss. I’m sorry.”

The man behind the desk — the boss — leaned forward. “Now, little one. What’s your name?”

You stayed silent, trying to hold his gaze despite your fear.

“Hm. What about your friend? Or actually, I think she’s your sister. You’re too snoopy not to be a Holmes. Tell us about her a little. We’ll let you go if you tell me a few things.”

You still were silent, and the boss nodded to one of the men behind you, and you felt the knife pressing on your side again, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

The boss sighed, cocking his head at you. “Now, I don’t like hurting my guests, but I’m sure you know you’re forcing my hand here.”

Then, the lights flickered a few times, making everyone pause and look up.

“What the devil is going on?!” the boss shouted. “Check the entrances and exits, she—”

The lights turned off with a loud bang, and on the next moment, the room was full of smoke. You felt a knife against your wrists and winced, thinking the man was trying to open your arteries, but then you felt the binds around your wrists snap and you were pulled up and led out of the office.

It was Enola, of course it was. And you were grateful for that, of course, but as you ran, you knew what kind of talk you’d go through with her as soon as you’d be back at her office.

And sure enough, as soon as you were back in your own room, Enola began her lecture.

“What were you thinking?!” Enola shouted, crossing her arms. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I– I wanted to prove myself to you, I wanted to, I don’t know, make you realise I could do what you could. But I now know it was stupid, I know you were right. I’ll never be as good as you.”

“This isn’t about proving how good you are, or how good you would be, going to try and solve cases without me is dangerous, and there are a lot of people wanting to capture me because they know I’m a threat!”

“I thought it’s something you threw away because of it being too easy,” you whispered, looking down. “I thought that I’d go there and find the seamstress in just an hour because there has been a misunderstanding.”

Enola took a deep breath. “I threw it away because I knew it was a trap. The seamstress’s assumed sister wanted to meet me at a crime infested area, in a dark alleyway. Sherlock warned me about someone named Edward Mitchell being after me, he’s a boss of a criminal organisation in that area. And I knew that the moment I’d step in there, they’d drag me along and imprison me, hoping to get Sherlock to come and rescue me so they’d be free to do whatever they wanted.”

“And I fell right through that trap,” you mumbled. “I’m an idiot.”

Enola shook her head, sitting down on your bed. “You’re not. You tried to help, and I understand that. But these kinds of things are the exact reason why I don’t want you to go take on cases yet.”

You sat by her, leaning your head against her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You sat there in silence for a moment, before Enola gently pushed you up. “You know, I could talk to Miss Edith next time I see her, ask her if she’d be willing to take a new student to learn self-defense. With enough training, you’ll make a fine assistant, and one day, a detective.”

You blinked at her. “Really?”

She smiled at you, stroking your back. “Really.”

You surged forward to hug her, and she laughed, hugging you back. Despite all that happened that day, you felt like things were turning out well after all.

#enola holmes #enola holmes x reader #enola holmes imagine #enola holmes fanfic #enola holmes oneshot #platonic #reader insert #my works #gn reader

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lumiereandcogsworth · 8 months ago

Note

does Belle collect anything 👀 and also what’s her favorite flower

as a kid she would collect A LOT.

she always came home from being outside with cool rocks and weird-looking sticks and bugs <3 and maurice had to constantly be like “belle, my dear! you’re taking the bugs away from their homes !! they can’t stay here !!” and she’s sad but also feels bad so she brings the bugs back. i also think she picks up a habit of finding like… misfit items. like nails that are bent and no longer usable. old coins that have completely been rubbed flat to the point that you can barely tell what its worth is. random ribbons and feathers that have escaped bonnets and hats. buttons. beads. ya know just like !!!! things that have been abandoned by people generally on accident.

one of her faves was a single purple earring (that she kept hidden from maurice because she knew he would want to try and find the owner. belle was a stinker sometimes >:3 but it was found in the gutter !!! all dirty !!! no one’s gonna want it!!! she’d never Blatantly steal 🙄). another fave was the arm of a small stuffed teddy bear. she actually did know which kid that bear belonged to, and planned on giving the arm back (despite this kid not actually being her friend… belle had just observed them.) but the next day she saw the kid playing with an entirely new bear, complete with two arms and a pretty gold bow. it was one of those little moments where she was reminded that she was in a lower economic station than some other people in the village, and it kind of stung in a way she hadn’t experienced before, so she decided to keep the bear arm.

anyway she was just a fan of finding little misfit items that were (for the most part) entirely without a home. she liked being the one to give them a home 💖 she kept pretty much everything in a very special box that had some pretty floral design on the lid. a gift from her papa for her 7th birthday💐 though i think she also liked collecting things that could go towards tinkering !! or her father’s art !!! she tried to be resourceful with the items, if she could. but she just also enjoyed keeping them in that box :)

as an adult, i still think she has an eye for the random misfit items. she still finds buttons and feathers and even jewelry every now and then after events and parties take place. (though now she actually does make sure to try and return the jewelry to its owners. it’s her kindness and also her strategy to try and make friends in the court 🥲 and it kinda works sometimes!!) but yeah her nightstand is always cluttered with STUFF, very much contrasting adam’s very neat minimalist nightstand. she makes a lot of little notes to herself as well, so you could say she hoards scraps of parchment too. and when she’s a mama she looooves collecting with her babies. i think her son especially loves to collect rocks and bugs and stuff, just like she did 🥹 (does adam enjoy when his tiny son brings a handful of worms into the drawing room? no🥰❤️)

AND LASTLY !!! FLOWERS !!! i think she really does like roses a lot. she asked her father to bring one back for her!! like the one in the PAINTING !! belle is a very sentimental girlie, especially surrounding things about her mother, because she really tries to find any way to connect with her. and flowers is one of them!! when maurice tells belle once that daffodils were maria’s favorites, belle Locked Onto Daffodils. i think yellow flowers in general just kind of make her think of her mama… is that why belle chose a yellow dress to dance that night? who’s to say🤧💛

i think belle just overall loves flowers and floral prints/patterns as a whole, and, as with most things, it’s impossible for her to truly pick a favorite. it’ll change every week! she sees the beauty in everything, you see!!!!🥺💐

#thank you so much alex i had a blast thinking about & writing all of these 🥹💖💖💖#i love my girl!!!!!!!#belle #batb headcanons #batb 2017 #alex tag #answered

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seitmai · 8 months ago

Text

But even Coyote agreed that regular sex was more important than pick-up basketball games at the base gym or nights at the bar.

Bahahah😂

“Damn, only took 58 days to get you to fall for me.” “I wouldn’t go that far - you’re still in your probationary period, Seresin,” you scoffed. “Your review is coming up, and I’m a little unclear if you’ve met the conditions of your contract.”

You better make it clear to her Seresin

We gotta follow the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

“We’ve spent the last three weekends together and talk every day. You’re my girlfriend. I’m your boyfriend.” “I don’t remember having that conversation.” “You’re the one who said you didn’t want casual.” After brushing his lips to your neck, he rested his temple against yours and closed his eyes, swaying slightly. A contented sigh escaped as you let yourself relax against him. “You are definitely not who I thought you were, Jake.”

Oh he's so whipped 🤭🥰

“There’s no ribbon or promotion ceremony for that, you know.” “You sure?” he asked, glancing down at his service ribbons. “Could start another row just for you.” Laughing, you stood on your toes to kiss him.

That's just so cute 😍

“I wanna wake up with my girlfriend during the week.” “You are really hung up on that, aren’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He really is hung up on that but thats just adorable

“Not your normal type?” Hanging his head, Jake chuckled. He’d been purposely avoiding eye contact with a couple of women he’d hooked up with all night. “Just don’t fall for the whole ‘something’s missing’ thing this time, alright?” Javy smirked, holding up his left hand and wiggling his fingers.

I love Javy for this haha, someone hast to keep Jake in check 😅

I can't 😂 this cracked me up and is the most hilarious and silly backstory for how Jake's first marriage came to

“You telling me that you were hustlin’ me tonight?” “A little.”

😏😏😏

Instead, you set your glass on the nightstand and took off your shirt, slipping back between the covers with your back to him. He locked his phone and dropped it back onto the nightstand before shedding his own shirt. Curling around you, he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder and smiled when you pressed back against him.

🥰🥰🥰

“Go away, you evil morning person.”

Literally me

“Play hooky with me,” he mumbled against your skin. When you shook your head, he lightly bit your breast before trailing kisses up your chest and throat, stopping when his lips hovered over yours. “I’ll go to sick call. You call in sick. We can spend all day relaxing.” When his thumb traced your cheek, you forced your eyes open. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, and his hair was flat on one side and spiked where your hands had run through it. It was his sleepy eyes that did you in, though.

I would not have expected Jake to be someone who plays hooky, but his sleepy eyes and bed head would have convinced me 😌

“Darlin’... you know that’s sexual harassment.” “Don’t say that,” you whispered. When he asked why, brushing away your tears, you shook your head. “‘Cause then I have to do something about it.”

I loved this line, even though it's heartbreaking because it's unfortunately such a real way to portrait it💔

Parties agree that the initial “date” is identified as the night of the contract writer’s unfortunate car accident, which will be acknowledged with annual anniversary.

😍😍😍

“That’s a lot of overnight bag packing.” “Only for 44 weeks. The next round of negotiations is going to include moving in together.” “You’re pretty confident that we’re gonna reach annual negotiations.” “Darlin’, I have a feeling we’re gonna be doing this for a long time.” Jake heard your breath catch. After a moment, you cleared your throat.

Ahhhh I love their banter 🥰🫶🏻

“Can’t kiss my girlfriend first?” “No title changes are approved until you’ve signed.” Sighing, he grabbed the pen from his flight suit pocket and clicked it.

You gotta do it right ☝🏻

As soon as both copies of the contract - you’d insisted that you each need a copy - were signed, Jake shoved your slacks down your legs and pressed your cheek to the kitchen counter as he showed you exactly how much he loved being your boyfriend.

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 6

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 5 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 6

Jake slid his sunglasses on while exiting the Vigilantes hanger. He was supposed to meet Coyote for lunch - an apology for blowing him off for the last three weekends. But with you standing firm on the no weeknights sleepovers, it was the only time he was able to see you. After waking you up with his tongue between your legs, he’d thought you’d cave, but no luck. Instead, he was stuck trading texts and phone calls during the week. But even Coyote agreed that regular sex was more important than pick-up basketball games at the base gym or nights at the bar.

Jake cast a critical eye over the jets as he walked the flight line. The maintenance crews were among the best in the world, but all it took was one rookie pilot just out of flight school to damage millions of dollars in equipment. As part of his TOPGUN training, he’d been charged with helping train some of those kids, which was an exercise in patience. Thankfully he wasn’t the only TOPGUN grad stationed on Lemoore, so the responsibilities were pretty evenly shared.

A small group of people was standing around the Rough Raiders hanger - a mix of khaki, flight suits, and civilians. He paused midstep at the sight of you climbing a jet ladder, a guy in a flight suit standing below and checking out your ass. You hadn’t mentioned being on base when you talked last night. Tucking his tongue into his cheek, he watched you climb into the F-35 and look up at the canopy as the pilot quickly scaled the ladder. He handed you his helmet, and Jake watched as you grinned and put it on before sitting. From the distance and angle, he couldn’t see you well but clocked the guy’s grin and as he reached into the cockpit. He felt a spike of irritation and shoved his clenched fists into his pockets before remembering he was in uniform. Smoothing down his khakis, he forced himself to walk away.

Coyote was waiting by his Jeep when Jake reached the Sidewinder offices. With a nod, he got into the car and cranked the engine, blasting the air conditioning. Coyote glanced at his friend and smirked, “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“No one,” he grumbled, snapping the door shut. “Joe’s sound good, or did you want to hit the food court?”

“Let’s get the hell off base. Gotta tell you about this damn kid.”

Your phone buzzed, alerting you to motion outside your front door before it chimed. Sighing, you dropped the dirty clothes you were sorting and reached into your pocket, pulling up the app to see Jake looking down at the camera. Stepping over the pile of clothes, you closed your bedroom door before letting him in. “Hey - didn’t realize you were coming over.”

“Just thought I’d stop by,” he shrugged. As soon as the door was closed, he backed you into it and braced his forearm over your head. Your hands rested on his chest as he kissed you slowly, the scent of his cologne - something smokey and spicy - washing over you. “Saw you on the flight line today.”

“Had the 60-day post-delivery meeting for the Lightnings,” you explained when his lips pressed against your throat. Jake smiled, slipping his hand under the hem of your shirt to lightly stroke your back, pinky anchored into the waistband of your slacks.

“That means it’s been 60 days since we met?”

“Technically 58 - we had to schedule the meeting early.”

“Damn, only took 58 days to get you to fall for me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far - you’re still in your probationary period, Seresin,” you scoffed. “Your review is coming up, and I’m a little unclear if you’ve met the conditions of your contract.”

“Oh yeah?” He shifted so his body pressed against yours, pinning you in place. “Pretty sure I’ve been the ideal boyfriend - I’ve made you dinner a couple of times, followed your stupid sleepover rule, watched your shitty movies - ”

“You’re getting points docked for insulting my taste.”

“Made you cum six ways from Sunday.” You felt his cock twitch against your thigh as he smirked.

Smiling sweetly, you cupped him, squeezing lightly when he pressed into your hand. His teeth dug into his lower lip when you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “All requests for title changes will be reviewed and, if approved, authorized following the 30-day evaluation - i.e., changing ‘guy I’m seeing’ to ‘boyfriend.’” When he opened his mouth to reply, you laughed while ducking out from under his arm. “We may have met 58 days ago, but we’ve only been seeing each other for three weeks. Better be on your best behavior for another week, or we’ll terminate the contract.”

You made it three steps before Jake’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you back against his chest. “We’ve spent the last three weekends together and talk every day. You’re my girlfriend. I’m your boyfriend.”

“I don’t remember having that conversation.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want casual.” After brushing his lips to your neck, he rested his temple against yours and closed his eyes, swaying slightly. A contented sigh escaped as you let yourself relax against him.

“You are definitely not who I thought you were, Jake.”

“Took you 58 days to realize that, darlin’?” he teased, a hint of an accent coloring his words.

“My sweet, sexy Southern guy I’m seeing.”

“Boyfriend.”

“You’re really angling for that promotion.”

“Put in my time and earned it on merit.” Shaking your head, you let out a heavy sigh while turning in his arms. He took your left hand, pulling it behind your back and holding you close. Your right hand lifted to tap the ribbon bar pinned to his chest, just under his golden wings.

“There’s no ribbon or promotion ceremony for that, you know.”

“You sure?” he asked, glancing down at his service ribbons. “Could start another row just for you.” Laughing, you stood on your toes to kiss him.

“You staying for dinner? I was just going to get something delivered and catch up on chores since someone has been keeping me busy over the weekends, and I haven’t had a chance to clean.”

“Let’s go out - grab a couple of drinks and a burger at the bar. Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I saw you on Sunday, it’s only Wednesday.”

“Exactly.” Chuckling, you slipped out of his arms, his fingers tightening around yours before releasing, and walked towards your room to swap your slacks for jeans.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You didn’t miss me?” he asked, following you to lean against your bedroom doorframe. Turning, you felt a flutter in your stomach at the sight of him, a softly teasing smirk playing on his lips, and a hint of mischief in his green eyes.

“Not even a little,” you lied.

His answering laugh let you know he didn’t believe you.

“That’s disgusting,” Jake grimaced, pulling a face as he handed you back your beer. You rolled your eyes, reaching over to wipe a bit of the watermelon gose foam from his upper lip.

“It’s better than your IPA.” Shaking his head, he took a swig to wash away the taste before looking around the bar. You’d had low hopes for the beer selection when you’d walked inside what was clearly a pilot hangout but had been pleasantly surprised that they carried a local brewery on tap.

“Wanna grab a seat or play some pool? There’s an open table.”

“Let’s play.” Grinning, he took your hand and led you to the back of the bar, where three tables were lined up. After placing his beer on the table rail, Jake grabbed two cues from the wall as you retrieved the balls from the pockets.

“We playing for fun, or do you want to make it interesting?” he asked, grabbing the triangle and racking the balls.

“We’re not playing strip pool in public.” His laugh drew the attention of the table next to you, and he walked towards you. When he reached to slip his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, you shifted so your ass was pressed against the table. As much as you enjoyed Jake’s hands on you, there were too many people around that you might have to work with one day. Better to keep the PDA to a reasonable level.

“Not what I was gonna suggest, but I like where your mind went,” he said, placing his hands on the table beside your hips. Cocking his head, his gaze drifted from your face to the hint of cleavage your blouse allowed.

“My eyes are up here, Lieutenant. What do you want to bet?” Taking his lower lip between his teeth, Jake shook his head.

“I wanna wake up with my girlfriend during the week.”

“You are really hung up on that, aren’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What can I say? I think your snores are cute.”

“I do not snore!”

“You do,” he countered, leaning close enough to whisper in your ear. “Make these hot little moans when you’re sleeping, too. Makes me want to roll you onto your back and slide into that sweet - ”

“Jacob Michael!” you hissed, face flushed.

“Damn. First and middle name,” someone said. You glanced over Jake’s shoulder as his head fell to the crook of your neck, groaning softly. A guy in a flight suit stood there, grinning. “What’d you do to piss her off, Hangman?”

“Fuck off, Coyote.” Jake shifted to sit on the table beside you, hunched over and rubbing his brow.

“Javy Machado,” the man said, extending a hand. “But everyone calls me Coyote. You must be the woman this asshole can’t stop talking about.” Laughing, you introduced yourself while shaking his hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Jake said you two went to the Academy together?”

“We did. Got stuck with him during our plebe summer.”

“Oh. So you know all the embarrassing college stories.”

“He tell you about the time he lost a uniform race and almost broke his nose running into the wall during an Around the World?”

“I didn’t understand what you said, but tell me more,” you grinned.

“Did you need something?” Jake asked, glaring at his friend.

“Basically, our detailer - ”

“We’re trying to play a game. See you later, Coyote.” Standing, Jake turned his friend around and playfully shoved him between his shoulders.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called after him. “And don’t worry - we’ll talk.”

“I’ll see you around. And don’t let him hustle you at pool.” Jake sighed when he turned to see you sipping your beer, eyes sparkling over the rim of the glass.

“Ignore everything he says.”

“Absolutely not. He is definitely coming over for dinner one night so I can hear all about baby Seresin. And it’s good to know that you hustle pool.”

“I don’t hustle, darlin’ - I’m just good.”

“Is that right? Then why, exactly, should I even bother betting against you?”

“I’ll give you a two-ball handicap.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three, and I get to move the white ball every other turn.”

“Two ball handicap and you can move the cue ball twice.”

“Fine, but we’re doing best two out of three.”

“Alright. What do you want if you win?”

“I want…” you tapped your upper lip and laughed when Jake moved your hand to kiss you.

“Didn’t need to bet to get me to kiss you, darlin’.” Playfully, you shoved him away and stood.

“I want one no questions asked favor that I can call in whenever I need.” After a moment, he nodded.

When you failed to break the rack during your first shot, Jake grinned as you hung your head and groaned. His shot sank a striped ball, and he hit another one before missing. After nudging two of your solids into a pocket, you took a shot that bounced off the railing. He winked while lining up his shot, not even looking as he hit the cue ball, knocking in two of his stripes.

The first game was over quickly, and he grinned against your pouting lips before drinking half of his beer. “Should we stop at the store and get some of your flavored coffee shit for my place?” he teased.

“Don’t act like you don’t like my flavored creamer and syrups, Mr. Honey Lavender Latte.”

“That’s Lieutenant Honey Lavender Latte,” he smirked, tugging a strand of your hair. “Want me to help?”

“Fine,” you huffed. Jake reracked the balls and stood at the end of the table as you broke, enjoying the peek down your shirt as you bent over the table. After hitting a solid in and purposely missing his second shot, he watched as you circled the table to pick your angle while sipping your beer. When you stopped in front of him and dropped the cue ball back onto the table, he helped position your hand into a closed bridge and pointed to where you should aim. Placing his hand on your wrist, he stepped behind you so your ass pressed against his crotch when you leaned over the table.

“During the stroke, give it the right amount of thrust,” he said, stacking his hand behind yours on the pool stick. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you shifted your weight and watched him bite his lip. “Behave.” When the ball sank into the pocket, you stood and grinned, quickly pecking his lips before lining up the next shot, waiting expectantly for him to help.

You took the opportunity to tease him at every turn.

When you knocked the eight ball in and won the round, Jake couldn’t help but grin when you threw up your hands in celebration, shoulders shaking as you wiggled your hips in a victory dance. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you back into his chest to press a kiss to your neck. Your excitement was adorable, even though he was turned on and frustrated as hell. One more round, a stop by your apartment, and then straight into his bed for some teasing of your own. And he wouldn’t have to walk you to your damn rental car and wait for a text to say you were home safely.

“Wanna grab dinner before the tie-breaker?” you asked.

“If you wanna prolong the inevitable.” Narrowing your eyes, you stuck out your tongue and danced out of the way when he moved to smack your ass.

“Go get us a table. I’m going to use the restroom.” With a quick kiss, you made your way through the crowd in the direction he’d pointed while Jake grabbed your empty glasses and returned them to the bar. He clapped Coyote on the back when he saw his friend waiting to close out his tab.

“She seems nice,” Coyote said.

“I really like her, Javy.” Jake felt his scrutinizing gaze and shook his head, meeting his friend’s eyes. “She is…”

“Never gonna let me live that one down, are you?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got married because their girlfriend of three months posted on Facebook that their ring finger was empty.” Jake grimaced, pushing away the memory of proposing to his ex-wife while drunk on Bourbon Street after she’d been pouting all night that all of her friends were getting married and having babies. The next day, he’d opened his first credit card to replace the straw wrapper ring with one she picked out on base at the NEX and bought his matching wedding band.

His ring was now on the bottom of the Pacific. He’d tossed it off the carrier after signing the divorce papers.

“You know who that is?” Javy asked, nodding to where you were chatting with some guy in a flight suit. Jake shook his head, watching as you smiled, and waved a hand across your eyes before drawing a circle in the air. Your brows furrowed as the guy said something, and then you laughed and shook your head. Jake moved when the guy grinned and cupped your cheek, turning your head left and right.

He recognized the guy. It was that pilot from earlier.

“Shit,” Javy muttered, watching as you took a step back and nodded.

“There you are,” Jake said, dropping his arm across your shoulders and kissing the side of your head. “Ready to grab a table?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Jake, this is - ”

“Hangman.”

“Rebound,” he replied, shaking Jake’s extended hand.

“You’re with the Rough Raiders?” he asked, nodding at the other man’s patch.

“Yeah. You?”

“Vigilantes.”

“Lieutenant Karrow was nice enough to let me see what the 360 camera array on the Lightning looks like from inside his helmet,” you said, trying to diffuse the tension between the two men.

“All that tech must be nice. Sounds like the 35 pretty much flies itself,” Jake said. Rebound smirked.

“Vigilantes are still in the 18s, right? I used to fly one, but the 35s are great. I love the 10K higher ceiling and better maneuverability. Plus, the whole being able to fire on an enemy behind you with all that tech.”

“If you’re lucky enough for them not to get tone on you by that point.”

“When you’re in a stealth craft, it doesn’t happen very often.”

“Right. All that tech makes the pilot's job easier,” Jake smirked. Rebound scowled, and your smile was fixed as you looked up at him.

“Actually, Hangman,” you said, emphasizing his call sign. “Have you heard that the dogfighting rating is better for the 35 than the 18? The stealth capabilities help, but once the missile bays open, the radar-absorbent skin is slightly impacted, so the pilots have to have combat skills. I’m sure you agree that the Navy wouldn’t send just anyone up in the air with an aircraft that costs $80 million a pop. Our infrared tech definitely helps since it can pick up on aircraft not showing up on radar by finding those heat signatures. Oh, and the ‘hive mind’ communication ability to share data between the 35s in the air - totally helpful when engaging the enemy. Not to mention the whole helmet capabilities. Our engineers, ugh, they did so well with that,” you said, shrugging off Jake’s arm and smiling at Rebound. “I don’t know about you, Karrow, but I really think the ability to just look at a target and engage is a hell of a lot better than having to reposition your jet to get your nose on target to even have a chance of getting a hit has its advantages in a dogfight.”

“Definitely,” Rebound grinned. Jake’s jaw clenched as you crossed your arms.

“That’s not even considering that we’re implementing a $15 billion upgrade with the Block 4 F-35s. We’re increasing power and data storage by a factor of 25 while incorporating 17 new weapons systems. And improving fuel efficiency by 25%. And while that’s pretty fucking phenomenal, unfortunately, we didn’t get the bid for the sixth-gen F/A-XX that the Navy ordered to replace the Super Hornet since those are actually deteriorating faster than the Hornets did, and production is ending in 2025. So you’ll probably have to get used to flying with more tech at some point in your career, Hangman.”

Jake didn’t like the thinly veiled anger or forced smile on your face. “You never know, darlin’. Hopefully, I’ll still be in the cockpit when those get off the production line.”

“Hopefully.” Your voice was clipped as you turned your attention to Karrow, who raised an eyebrow. “Thanks again for this afternoon, I really appreciate it. Have a goodnight, Jackson.”

“You too. And, uh, you know where to find me if you ever want to get another up-close look at the 35.” Karrow’s eyes darted over to Jake, whose jaw ticked. You smiled at Jake with a nod before turning on your heel and walking out of the bar.

He hesitated a beat before nodding at Karrow. His eyes darted to where Coyote stood at the bar and tilted his head. Coyote lifted his chin, pinning his gaze on Rebound, who smirked at Jake’s back before returning to his group of friends.

Outside, you looked down at your phone, comparing the pick-up time for two rideshare apps through bleary eyes and trying not to blink. If you didn’t blink, the tears building in your eyes wouldn’t fall, and you wouldn’t be crying.

“Darlin’?”

“Go away.”

“Baby, talk to me.”

“Go away, Jake. Please.” You refused to look at him as he stood beside you.

“Don’t get a car. Lemme drive you home.” When you didn’t say anything, he sighed. “Sweetheart.”

“Fine.” Locking your phone, you slipped it into your back pocket and made your way across the parking lot to his truck. Your hand rested on the handle as he unlocked it, not even giving him the opportunity to open your door. As soon as he cranked the engine, you reached over to turn up the music to a volume that discouraged conversation; his 2000s country music flooded the cab. When he reached over to place his hand on your leg, you turned away from him and stared out the window. His hand flexed on the shifter.

Even though you almost jumped out of the truck when he parked outside your apartment, mumbling goodnight, Jake followed you upstairs. The tight grip you had on your tears was faltering as you unlocked the door, and he pushed inside behind you. “Can you leave, please?” you said softly.

“Talk to me, darlin’. Tell me what I did wrong.” Your back was turned to him, and your head dropped, hands lifting to cover your face. Your sharp inhale echoed in the quiet apartment, and his feet were moving before his brain caught up. His arms wrapped around your waist as he cradled you to his chest, pressing kisses to your shoulders as you trembled. When your first sob burst free, he turned you, cradling your head and gently rocking, pressing kisses into your hair.

“I f-fuckin’ h-hate my j-job,” you gasped into his chest. Jake frowned, humming rather than responding as your grip on the back of his shirt tightened. His hands slid down your body, one landing on your ass while the other encouraged your leg over his hip. Crouching, he lifted you off your feet, legs wrapping around his waist, and walked into your bedroom, gently depositing you on your bed. After kicking off his shoes and taking off his khaki shirt, he knelt in front of you and took off your shoes, tossing them towards your closet. As you moved towards the pillows, you wiggled off your jeans, dropped them over the side of the bed, and shrugged off your bra under your shirt. He grabbed them both and put them in the laundry basket before taking off his pants and joining you under the covers.

“Gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asked, gently wiping away your tears.

“‘M sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Our night was ruined because of that… because he….”

“Night wasn’t ruined.”

“I’m actually pretty good at pool.”

“What?” he frowned at the change in topic.

“I-I played a lot growing up. At the base youth centers after school, and my grandparents bought me this game table when we came back stateside. It had pool and air hockey, and ping pong. My grandpa was really good at pool, and we’d play every time he visited.” Chuckling, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You telling me that you were hustlin’ me tonight?”

“A little.”

“I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.” Biting your lower lip, you ran your knuckle along his jaw, his stubble rasping against your skin. He gently took your wrist and kissed your palm when you reached his chin. When you met his gaze, his green eyes were soft and filled with concern. Closing your eyes, you moved closer and tucked your head under his chin. Jake sighed, holding you tightly as your legs tangled. “At the risk of sounding like a jealous boyfriend, he shouldn’t have touched you.” He felt you tense, but you didn’t say anything.

Jake felt your breathing even and was almost asleep himself when he heard you murmur, “I don’t hate the 18.” A smile tugged at his lips as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Glad to hear that, darlin’. You’re a damn good saleswoman - almost had me wanting to drop that $80 million, even though it’s more expensive than what you told me the first time we met.”

“‘S the engine that adds the $5 million,” you yawned. “But you’d get the discount.”

“Only took 58 days to earn that.”

When you woke in the middle of the night and slipped out of bed, Jake grabbed his phone to check the time. There was a text from Coyote asking if everything was okay, and he quickly typed back a message saying they’d talk. When you came back into the bedroom with a glass of water, he waited for you to say he needed to leave.

His alarm went off before yours. Groaning, you pulled the pillow over your head as he turned it off. A strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you across the bed, leaving your pillow behind as you grumbled. “Morning, grumpy,” Jake’s sleep-rasped voice teased as he rolled you onto your back. He kissed you softly, brushing the hair from your face before lightly tapping your cheek. “Lemme see those pretty eyes, darlin’.”

“Go away, you evil morning person.” Laughing lowly, he pushed back the covers and lowered his head to kiss the curve of your breast before sucking on your nipple. You inhaled sharply, pressing against his mouth as your hand buried in his hair.

“Fine,” you whispered and smiled against his mouth when he kissed you. After a few minutes spent trading lazy kisses, he pulled himself out of bed and dressed. Before he left, he ensured you texted your boss and promised to return in a few hours.

True to his word, he was back by 9:00AM and quickly changed out of his uniform into a pair of Navy sweats and a t-shirt while you made him a honey lavender latte that he loved to hate.

Slowly, over the course of the morning, he got you to talk. You reluctantly told him why you were so mad yesterday - as much as Karrow touching you had pissed you off, you still had to work with him, and Jake’s posturing could make it awkward. He apologized and had to rein in his anger when you avoided his eyes when he asked if people touched you at work like that. When you tried to say it wasn’t a big deal, that it was the comments and looks that were worse, he saw red.

“Darlin’... you know that’s sexual harassment.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered. When he asked why, brushing away your tears, you shook your head. “‘Cause then I have to do something about it.”

With your face buried in his chest, you told him about leaving Florida after an awkward breakup. Your ex had moved into your apartment slowly, spending more and more nights at your place even though you’d told him you didn’t want to live together. When his lease was up, he’d expected you to add him to yours and had even told his roommate that he was moving out before talking to you about it. He’d told a mutual friend he was planning to propose, and you quickly ended it. When the opportunity to come to California came up, you jumped at it.

Jake reluctantly talked about his past. He said he was lonely at his first base and had trouble finding his footing in his new squadron. He was throwing himself into work and needing to prove that he’d earned his career as an aviator, so he made some stupid decision. Another new aviator, Bradshaw, had called him Hangman after an exercise, and the callsign had stuck. He hated it. He hated that he would always be reminded of the arrogant twenty-year-old kid he’d been. So it was easier to lose himself in a relationship that wasn’t good. He’d loved his ex-wife, and loved the stability their marriage gave him, but knew that she was cheating on him when he deployed. When he got orders to California, she stayed for three months before returning to New Orleans. She’d had some health problems, so they stayed married so she could stay on his health insurance. They’d only divorced because she’d wanted to remarry.

Later, your linked fingers were pinned over your head, Jake’s weight holding you down as he slowly rolled his hips. No matter how much you begged him to go faster, harder, he kept to the slow rhythm, straining to hold still when you both got too close to the edge. He savored the way you gasped his name against his lips. He let go of one of your hands to wipe a strand of sweaty hair from your face and smiled at your glazed expression when your eyes met his. “Please,” you whined. He caught your hand as it drifted between you and shook his head. After he kissed your palm, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close, biting his lower lip. “Please, Jake.”

Unable to deny you anything, his fingers drew slow circles around your clit. He crushed his lips to yours, forcing you to swallow the three small words that almost slipped out as you clenched around him.

A week later, Jake sat in his office, staring at his sister’s post celebrating his parent’s wedding anniversary. She’d used their last family picture - his graduation from the Academy.

He hated that picture. Hated thinking about that fucking day. Hated that his first salute as an ensign had gone to a man who encouraged him to keep up the Navy tradition of having a girl in every port as his mother stood beside him, a smile hiding her hurt. It wasn’t a secret that his father had done exactly that during his naval service.

The phone buzzed, and his eyes flitted up to see a text. What’s your email?

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he quickly typed out his personal email address and sent it back to you. Two minutes later, a new message appeared in his inbox with an attached document.

30-Day Contract Review Results

Upon review of the initial “Dating” contract between the two parties identified below, it is determined that all clauses and conditions have been met. It is recommended that parties continue with the contract, entering an exclusive and monogamous relationship. Parties agree that the initial “date” is identified as the night of the contract writer’s unfortunate car accident, which will be acknowledged with annual anniversary.

Recommend the following updates to the contract:

Strike ‘person I’m seeing’ and replace with boyfriend/girlfriend as appropriate

Strike zero-tolerance weeknight sleepover policy and authorize two weeknight stays

Writer will not be required to assist with remaking hospital corners when staying at the contracting partner’s house

Contracting partner will acknowledge that writer does not snore

Writer will purchase supplies for honey lavender lattes for both households

Contracting partner will not disparage the writer’s film preferences

Parties will agree to an annual review of the contract, with ad hoc meetings to discuss clauses and conditions as they arise

The signatures below serve as an agreement to identified contract recommendations. The next review will occur on the acknowledged annual anniversary.

Your signature was already on the bottom of the document, and there was a signature line for him.

Laughing, Jake pulled up your phone number and called you.

“Yes?” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Are you open to negotiating the number of authorized weeknight stays? Cause I’m thinking four is a better number.”

“At that point, we would only have one night away from each other when taking weekends into consideration.”

“I’m fine with that. Three nights at your place, three at mine.”

“That’s a lot of overnight bag packing.”

“Only for 44 weeks. The next round of negotiations is going to include moving in together.”

“You’re pretty confident that we’re gonna reach annual negotiations.”

“Darlin’, I have a feeling we’re gonna be doing this for a long time.” Jake heard your breath catch. After a moment, you cleared your throat.

“I’ll agree to three weeknights, Lieutenent Seresin. Final offer.”

“Make the edit, and I’ll sign it when I see you tonight.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight, Lieutenant.”

“See you tonight,” he grinned as the call disconnected, already planning on running back to his place to pack an overnight bag.

But when he got to his house, your car was idling on the side of the road. He parked the truck in the garage, making sure to leave enough space for your vehicle. When you pulled into the driveway, he motioned you forward until you were parked beside him. “You’re ruining my plan to scandalize the neighbors,” you huffed when he opened the car door.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities for that,” he chuckled, taking the plastic bag you held out. Inside was an assortment of coffee stuff.

“First thing first, Seresin. Grab a pen.”

“Can’t kiss my girlfriend first?”

“No title changes are approved until you’ve signed.” Sighing, he grabbed the pen from his flight suit pocket and clicked it.

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

Author's Note: This chapter covers a lot. Thanks for the patience when it came to writing it - between the themes, researching the F-35, and recovering from having guests, I've been exhausted. Hopefully the banter made up for the angst, and you liked seeing a bit more of each of their background. Kinda funny, but my brother in law proposed to his first wife for that same reason Jake did - a Facebook post of an empty hand.

Read Chapter 7

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markresonates · 2 years ago

Text

FASTER

summary: you catch a ride to a party with Haechan after your date stands you up, but eventually ditch when drama ensues

pairing: rich stoner frat boy!Haechan x fem!reader

genre: porn w plot, angst, tiny fluff bc i'm soft

au/tropes: university, beach town, stupid bets, best friends to lovers

word count: +4.5k

a/n: oh hey tumblr! long time, no see...let's pretend i posted this last week, okay? okay

warnings: public high sex, oral (fem), squirting, tiny humiliation, lil manhandling, me *unsurprisingly* pushing the haechan big dick agenda, drinking & smoking, semi hard dom!Haechan, sub!reader

In your mind, you envisioned tonight going down a bit differently. You should be a few drinks into the first party of the school year at the biggest frat house on campus, body buzzing from cheap booze, drunk on your youth and the fallacy you’ll live forever. You were excited for the events that lie ahead, yet unbeknownst to you, what you imagined would never pan out. The guy who asked you out at club cornucopia last week was supposed to pick you up a half hour ago, and he’s failed to answer a single call of yours.

After reviewing your options, you decide to go to the party anyways. You’ll be damned before you waste your first opportunity of the year to party like your actions have no consequences. Collecting your things, you walk through the front door with determination.

A set of white headlights approach you from behind as you lock up the place, and the new silver Porsche they belong to cruises to a stop, parallel the driveway.

“Hey, babe,” a smooth voice calls out to you from the passenger seat window. “Looks like you need a ride.”

You tense up before peering through the vehicle and recognizing the driver – even in the dark you’d recognize Haechan’s smirk and that attempted wink he throws in any day. “Hm, depends. Are you going to drive the speed limit?”

“Ha, not a chance,” Haechan says, unlocking the doors, anticipating you’ll cave regardless. The handle on the outside pops out from where it was previously flat against the Porsche door.

You mull it over for a moment, then sigh and hop in the pricey sports car. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

As soon as he hears you buckle up safely, the car takes off at a not so safe speed. “So, y/n, why are you late to my party?”

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you late to your frat’s party?”

“I’m on-time, actually,” he reports, very matter-of-factly.

You snort. “This is what on-time looks like for you? You know, you’re good at a lot of things but time management is not one of them.”

Haechan chuckles, dryly. “This is what doing an alcohol run looks like, sweetheart.”

He pulls up to a stop sign, hitting the brakes suddenly and making you grab for the railing on the car door. From tall paper grocery bags in the backseat, you hear glass bottles bump against each other, clinking loudly.

“You ran out of alcohol that quickly?”

He cracks a cocky half grin. “What can I say? I throw great parties,” he compliments himself, changing gear shifts and hitting the gas pedal. “And thank you for acknowledging I’m great at nearly everything.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “I mean like, that’s not what I said but-”

“I could show you a few other things I’m great at too…if you’re ever down, y/n,” he proposes and shoots a knowing glance your way.

Your cheeks heat up, his words compelling a fluttering sensation deep inside. It’s a familiar feeling when it comes to being within close proximity of Haechan. “Hey, eyes on the road,” you reply, directing his head forward with two fingers to his chin.

For as long as you can remember in your friendship, Haechan has been a shameless flirt. Nevertheless, after all these years of suggestive comments here and there, you’ve never taken them seriously. There was a point in high school where you had tried to distance yourself from him, at least until your tiny crush went away, but it was too hard to maintain radio silence with Haechan. Especially because he continued to bug you about hanging out and asking why you were avoiding “the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for" – his words, not yours.

The only reason you two stopped talking as much recently was that he got heavily involved with his fraternity business (and the wild shenanigans that accompanied it). It’s been a few weeks since you’ve spent more than 10 minutes with him.

“When did you get-” you begin before his abrupt parking.

“Here!” he announces. He kills the engine, getting out around the corner from Greek row. You disappointingly snap your tongue but follow his lead a second later. “Sorry, what was that again?”

“Haechan! Took you long enough!” Johnny shouts from across the street.

You take a deep breath. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“No, what were you saying?”

“I was saying it took you long enough!” Johnny repeats, jokingly. “What’s up, y/n? Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Hey! Well, I’d be around more if I was invited to.” You give Haechan a pointed look.

“Why don’t you have her over more? Scared someone is gonna steal your girl?” The fraternity alumnus’ eyes ping pong between you two, attempting to gauge reactions.

He doesn’t give him much of an opportunity to read his face, instead ducking into the car again to retrieve hard liquor from the backseat. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be DJing?” Haechan deflects.

“I left TY Track on duty right now. I was about ready to come looking for you because you volunteered to swing by the liquor store on your way here an hour ago.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Oh, so you weren’t actually on-time to the party like you told me.”

"HA, Haechan? On-time?"

“Actually, um, I never said I was on-time to the party. I was perfectly on-time to pick you up where you were so you didn’t have to walk the entire way!” Haechan tries to clarify his vague assertion from earlier. He holds out two heavy bottles for you to take. "Here."

“I got those for you, y/n, don’t worry.” Johnny collects the two from your grasp. You grab the third from Haechan’s extended hand a moment later.

In total, your trio enters the rager through the backdoor with five bottles of the good stuff. You unload in the kitchen, where you find a tipsy Mark attending to a thoroughly shit-faced Jungwoo at their long rectangular table.

“y-y/n!” Mark hiccups. He gets to his feet, taking a few wobbly steps towards you to throw his arms around your shoulders . “I missed you!”

“Sorry, he’s clingy when he’s drunk,” Haechan apologizes for some reason.

You giggle at the cuddly boy’s inconsistent affectionate side. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Mork, get off of her, she doesn’t want you.” He enunciates his words as if explaining something to a child.

“How do you know wha- I mean WHO, she wants, huh?” Johnny teases with a suspicious expression. He strolls out of the kitchen, returning to his shared turntables.

Annoyed, Haechan sticks his tongue into his cheek and his head twitches to the side. “Ugh. I need a drink.”

The kitchen isn’t terribly well-lit but it is bright enough that you notice a light purple patch on his neck. If you had to guess, based on the yellowish color around it, you would say someone’s mouth left that mark on him a week ago.

“Are you, like, jealous or something?” Mark blurts out. He squeezes your body tighter.

You avert your gaze from the hickey, blinking a handful of times. “I, um-”

“Why would I be jealous?” Haechan snaps. He hops on the kitchen counter, sitting relatively close to you, and screws the cap off of the vodka bottle you brought in. “Like I haven’t hugged my own best friend before? Come on.”

Bingo. There’s that reminder you needed: best F-R-I-E-N-D.

You can stare at his neck all you want but nothing is going to change the fact that your lips will never be in the same place.

“Is that all you’ve done? Hug?” Jaehyun interjects from behind you. He joins your small kitchen crowd, minorly buzzed with a red solo cup of beer in hand. Mark detaches his body from yours to cling to him and weirdly rub his ears instead.

“Yeah? So?” Haechan answers, begrudgingly.

“Hm, how do you guys feel about a friendly game of spin the bottle? Or is that too much for you to handle as friends?”

“If you wanna m-make out with y/n, you don’t neeeed to play a game,” Jungwoo mumbles, every syllable of his speech slurred to the point where you can barely understand him. “She’s p-probably easy enough to get on her knees r-ight now.”

The kitchen is dead silent as all eyes turn from the drunken individual to you. Haechan puts down the bottle before taking a single swig, jumping down from the counter a second later. Your heart begins to race as adrenaline floods your system.

“What did you just fucking say?” he challenges, venomously.

Jungwoo clears his throat nervously, perking up a bit hearing the distinctive threatening tone. “Er, I didn’t say that. S-someone…someone told me that.”

He lays his hands on the kitchen table, leaning halfway over it. “Who?”

“Oh my gawd,” Mark gasps dramatically. “The bet…”

“The bet?” Haechan whips in his direction. “Whose bet?”

You remember Haechan telling you that it’s a fraternity tradition for the members to carry out a bet the first week of school every year, and you have a feeling you know who Jungwoo is hinting towards – the particular someone who was supposed to pick you up earlier.

The guy who asked you out at club cornucopia, and hooked up with on your first date the day after that. He was so persistent to get you to third base, but you turned him down that night because you didn’t want to rush into things with a person you could genuinely see yourself growing to like.

You couldn't wait for Haechan forever. You knew you had to move on – or at least try to move on.

Mark gulps guiltily, before providing context. “His bet was that he couldn’t get someone he asked out at club cornucopia to, you know–” Mark bobs his head with his mouth open. “–on a first date…and an hour ago, he told everyone he did...with y/n.”

Your best friend clenches his jaw. “Who?”

“Sungchan.”

“Yeah?” he answers, right on cue. Sunchan stops in the doorway when he meets your livid eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh!” you spit. “So you really fucking lied and told everyone I sucked your dick? What the f-!”

Haechan cuts you off, socking their younger frat brother in the jaw.

You wouldn’t describe Haechan as the most athletic person in the world, but you heard from Jeno that he’s been hitting the gym more and more lately, evident by the fact he can do five full pull ups now. Much to the kitchen crowd’s surprise – yours included – his fist collides with Sungchan’s face hard enough to send him to the ground.

"Ow!" Haechan caresses his sore hand.

Having no desire to wait around and see what happens next, you grab his unharmed hand and drag him out the back door. You march him back to his car. Not a sound leaves your mouth until you are both in your seats.

“That was…” you trail off, cringing.

“y/n, I’m sorry that I-”

“No, no, it’s not you.” Receiving a call from Mark, he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He declines the call and patiently waits for you to continue speaking. “Ugh, I wish I could forget this whole night ever happened.” You bury your face in your hands for a moment.

“Hey, let’s go get high like old times,” Haechan suggests, nudging your arm softly after a moment of silence. “We can forget all about it, sweetheart.”

You give him a weak smile and hum approvingly. He smiles back at you. “There’s that smile of yours I love.”

He doesn’t stall for your input on location, inserting the key into the ignition, with a new – or should I say your old – destination in mind. It’s a 30 minute drive with no traffic but it doesn’t take long before you recognize the roads he is taking to the beach. You’re driving down memory lane, picturing the moments you shared with Haechan – you experiencing your first almost kiss with him in middle school; him sharing in great detail his first time with some hot girl you didn’t know personally but were envious of; you crying over your first heartbreak; him high blabbing all the secrets he knows about his frat brothers when he first joined and making you promise not to tell another soul.

This will just be another sour memory attributed to your favorite secret smoke sesh spot and remedied by his presence.

For once, he lets you pick the music. You keep the volume on low for him to share what he’s been up to most of the summer and you gladly listen. You’ve always been easily distracted by Haechan, and even if the party tonight was a monumental waste of your time, this moment is no exception to his captivating charm stealing your attention.

Haechan was the epitome of cool. Watching him drive, you’re convinced that he has never looked so hot. Every so often, he runs his fingers through his soft, dark magenta hair and you feel tempted to do the same. He leans back in his seat, his ripped black jean clad thighs spread wide open, right foot flooring the gas pedal. His hurt hand loosely grips the bottom of the steering wheel while the other is rested on the gear shift.

Your surroundings pass by in a blur since he speeds there nearly the entire way. You are in the middle of talking (and overanalyzing) your date with Sungchan when he pulls up to a stop light. He shifts the position of his hand to cup your thigh. It’s supposed to be comforting but, if anything, it feels more intimate and possessive than he initially intended.

He half expects you to pull away from his touch, but you wouldn’t dare move a muscle. Testing the waters, he slowly rubs his thumb back and forth on your warm thigh. It’s a delicate feeling that makes you feel like your skin is on fire. If it wasn’t for the traffic light turning green, he would have explored your body further.

He pulls into the small, empty dirt lot. Very few people know that behind a large boulder in the very corner of the lot, there is a large enough space to fit one car. He parks his Porsche but leaves it on to play music. You pick your favorite high playlist to play on warm nights like these. He retrieves the necessities from the trunk and readies things up so you don’t have to do any of the work. He takes the first hit from his ruby red bong, blowing clouds of white smoke into the air.

“You wanna be a big girl and light it yourself?” He playfully wiggles his eyebrows and waves the lighter around.

“I can do things by myself. You don’t always need to take care of me.”

“I don’t mind taking care of you, but okaaay, if you say so sweetheart,” he sing-songs.

Overestimating your abilities, you take a sharp hit and almost immediately cough. The stinging sensation prickles in your throat and lungs, while the euphoric haze punctures reality as you know it. You two go back and forth, taking turns until you’re both high as a kite.

You close your eyes and melt into the moment as Frank Ocean’s “Skyline To” flows from the car speakers.

Solstice ain't as far as it used to be,

It begins to blur, we get older.

Summer's not as long as it used to be,

Everyday counts like crazy.

Smoke, haze

The atmosphere is calming, a peaceful serenity in the silence. Rolling waves and soft melodies lull your mind into the clouds, though your despondent consciousness descends from the high quicker than you’re used to as the reality of the situation awakens an excitement only Haechan can invigorate. Where you lack vocal communication, the energy between you two buzzes and crackles as tension thickens in the humid air.

To diffuse some tension, you settle on asking about something you know he would love to brag about. “So, when’d you get this one?”

“What, the car? Last month. Isn’t she pretty?” he responds with a wide smile. He rubs the dashboard fondly. “I’ve always dreamed of having a Porsche.”

You giggle at his enthusiasm. “I guess dreams come true, huh?”

“Well…not all dreams. But maybe someday,” Haechan says, cryptically.

“I hope you get everything you could ever wish for.” You pat his knee with sincerity. “What else have you been doing since school started?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing really. I basically spend all my time with the boys and my baby.”

“Um, oh,” you reply.

He gets out of the car to put away his bong and its corresponding accessories in the trunk. While he’s taking care of business, you struggle to hide your emotions to the news of a relationship you weren’t aware existed.

Maybe it’s better to know you have no chance. Almost reassuring that you can give up on your dream where you could have a life with him. At least now you know where it is he got that hickey on his neck – from somebody luckier than you are, sadly.

He gets back in the car and takes over as DJ. You wipe the built up condensation off the foggy window with the back of your hand, failing to take into account that the droplets could soak into your long-sleeved, crop top shirt if you weren’t paying attention. You regret wearing it anyways due to the fact that tonight turned out to be much warmer than the weather app on your phone said it would be.

“Ugh, fuck. Just what I needed – a wet wrist,” you grumble.

Haechan rolls down your window for you, lightly snickering at your misfortune. You hold your arms out the window and try to squeeze water from the sweater material. “Oh, so you think this is funny? Now I’m going to be annoyed by it all night.”

“Hey, it’ll dry way sooner than you think.” He rubs your leg reassuringly.

You snap your tongue and sigh heavily. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“You’re cute when you complain, y/n,” Haechan says out of the blue. “Pretty cute when you’re wet too.”

You’re facing away from him, staring out at the black water as if you didn’t hear him. Despite the booming waves crashing against the shore, he hears you gulp. You nearly choke on your saliva, which leaves the impression that when you’re high, your body can’t physically function if you’re simultaneously devoting all of your brain power to the meaning behind his provocative compliments. Then again, even if you weren’t high at the moment, you’re convinced something similar would happen regardless of sobriety.

Looking at the clock, you’re surprised by how much time has passed. Your high is a faint shadow of floaty lightheadedness by this point. You basically have no excuse to feel at a loss for words other than feeling naturally flustered by Haechan – your best friend with a girlfriend of his own now.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you, y/n?” he teases.

“Th-thank you."

“You’re wel-”

“I need some air.” Before he can react, you abruptly get out of the car.

He quickly joins your side and you flinch from how close he is. “Okay, what is it? Why are you being like this?” Haechan questions, reaching for your hand.

You pull away and cross your arms. “I just don’t think we should be so close if you have a girlfriend!”

His face scrunches up. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“You just-? You just said you spend all your time with the boys and your baby.”

“God! Are you serious? Is that what this is about?” Haechan frustratingly runs his hand through his hair. “I was talking about my fucking car!”

“But-” You pause for a moment, processing his words. “But what about your hickey?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jaemin and I had bets for the new school year where he had to give me a hickey and I had to wear it the whole first week of classes!”

"Jaemin?" Hiding your shocked expression, you look at the ground, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Your plan works for 0.2 seconds before he lifts your chin up.

“Why did it matter so much to you?”

You gulp. “It didn’t.”

“Liar.” He moves his hand to cup your cheek. “Were you jealous, sweetheart?”

With both hands on his chest, you try to push away from him. He wraps his free arm around your body to hold you in place, causing you to gasp. Arousal instantly rushes through your lower half.

He directs your head back to stare into your soul again. “Answer the question, y/n,” he whispers with chilling intensity.

“I…maybe.” Your eyes flick down to his mouth where he wears a devilish smirk.

He shifts his hand again, this time holding under your chin but with his thumb lightly rubbing along your bottom lip. “Then I guess I have Jaemin to partially thank for making my other dream come true.”

Haechan doesn’t waste a single second diving in for a kiss. His unharmed hand slides down to squeeze your ass while the other loosely holds your lower back. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss by parting your lips for his eager tongue to slip inside your mouth. He wobbles you towards the car, skillfully unbuttons and unzips your jeans, and flips your body around. From behind, he rips your jeans down your legs and gets on his knees, without a care in the world that his own will get dusty. He kisses your pussy over your panties and you mewl.

Noticing the wet patch, he chuckles. “Already wet for me, hm?”

“You've always made me wet,” you answer breathlessly.

He hums, content with your response. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He thumbs your panties to the side and connects his mouth to your folds. You lean against the car, moaning his name and inflating his ego. Haechan eats you out until you’re seconds away from coming. He rocks back on his feet and opens the car door. He pushes the button in the center console to open the hood, pushes both front seats forward and flips the back seats over to give you two more space. You kick your pants off your ankles as he gets in the back. He removes his throbbing erection from his jeans and gives it a few jerks.

“Fuck, y/n. You see what you do to me?” he rasps. You nod repeatedly, refusing to look away from his precum-slick tip.

He slides a condom on and you climb on top of him, straddling his lap. You hover over his large cock for a moment before he lowers your body down. Once his whole length has disappeared inside of your pussy, you're completely full to the point where you have tears in your eyes. He wipes a tear from your cheek and waits for you to roll your hips first. Soon enough, your bodies are molding together and you’re bouncing on his cock mindlessly.

You roll your head to the side to give his mouth access to your neck. He intermittently plants wet sensual kisses, taking years worth of pent up lust out on your sensitive skin. You can feel the satisfied smile on Haechan’s lips growing wider as you moan.

“I’ve been dying to hear your pretty moans for years now.”

“Yeah? Why didn’t you d-do something about it then?”

He scoffs. “God, what did you think I meant by ‘show you a few other things I’m good at,’ huh? Hasn’t it been fucking obvious I'm crazy about you?”

Haechan manhandles your body around so you’re facing away from him. No one would know he has a hurt hand by the way he digs his fingers into your skin. He fucks you nice and hard, turning you into a whimpering mess. You might as well be high based on the out of body experience after a handful of minutes.

“F-faster,” you whine.

“Alright, sweetheart. If you think you can take it…”

He increases his speed and loops a hand around your body to rub your clit. His fingers move rapidly, the pressure in your core increasingly mounting until the sensation teeters on the edge of overwhelming. You try to fight it and last longer than your body is realistically capable of.

Haechan senses your impending orgasm. “It’s okay, baby. Be a good girl and come for me. You know you want to.”

You come on his cock with a broken sob. As his pace accelerates, you regrettably start to squirt all over the back of his front seat. You watch your juices flow out of your body, squeezing your eyes shut, humiliated you can’t get a handle on your body’s reflexes to the pleasure.

“That’s it, y/n. Let it allll out, it’s okay. Don’t hold back,” he encourages you, surprisingly not caring about the mess you’re making in his precious car.

You roll your head to rest on his shoulder and drool drips from the corner of your mouth. Your body quivers through the entire high. When his fingers continue to rub your clit, you twitch wildly. Your hot walls pulse around his cock, finally triggering his own orgasm. Haechan shoots his load inside you while a rich, deep groan falls from his lips. The rhythm of his thrusting slows to a crawl before stopping entirely.

He lifts you off of his lap when both of you have finished panting and caught your breath. He rolls the condom off and puts it in a plastic bag he keeps in the back seat for collecting trash. Leaning forward, he presses the button to close the top of the car. It’s just you, him, and the sound of the ocean again.

He hands you the panties that were discarded in the front seat and you slip them back on. Haechan sits back, pulling your body close to his side. You throw your legs over his lap and snuggle into him comfortably.

“Dreams really do come true,” you mumble, lethargically.

"I guess so." He kisses the top of your head. "Or at least mine do."

You bury your face into his chest. “Sorry about your car.”

Haechan sighs. “It’s okay, really. I can always get it cleaned. And on the bright side, every time I get in my car, I’ll always remember how I made you come in the backseat.” He squeezes you tighter and you giggle at his optimism.

You're moments away from sleep when a lightbulb goes off in his head. "Hey, sweetheart, how about you give me a hickey on the other side of my neck?"

A bolt of excitement zaps you wide awake. You look up at him, eyeing a blank space with your name on it and smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

hiii ik 2 baddies is supposed to be about a 3some but how the fuck are 3 people supposed to fuck in a car?? exactly. i watched a video tour of the 2021 Porsche 911 (what i learned to be the newest model that actually has a trunk) for this and there's like barely any space for 2 people, let alone 3...

so it's been almost 6 months since i've posted and this is something i wrote real quick in honor of 2 baddies and to feed yall a bit. originally, i intended on posting this last week (when it was still the season of summer) but i was too anxious about my own school year starting this past week to proofread. 00 liner's watch me and mark's show off are still wips bc my thoughts are all over the place with both of them.

i feel like i've developed a love-hate relationship with writing over the last 10 months and it's hard to want to do it. i feel like it makes me happy while also making me anxious. the thing is, not posting also makes me anxious. same with anon mail. i love hearing from readers but i also know that before i closed my mailbox to anon mail, i started getting a lot of hate anons again, and it didn't really seem worth it. basically, it's a lose-lose situation in both regards. i'm going to turn on anons for a little and see how it goes...

i think most of my anxiety around tumblr now is that i know people expect things from me, and i want to do so well on those things that i don't do anything at all bc i don't want to let anyone down. i'm going to be more active on tumblr again but readers need to understand i'm a person. i have a life and i have too many feelings. i don't want to leave tumblr completely but if things get to be as bad as they were in the first few months of the year in terms of feedback, i might have to reevaluate my time here. i would greatly appreciate your patience with me posting those two fics and i thank you for reading this one!

okay, tis all! and again, i sincerely thank you for reading!

stream *2 Baddies!!*

➾my masterlist

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itismarvelicious · 2 years ago

Text

A very random idea for Knives Out 3 (: Knot Knot)

Gasp of horror.

The lights turn on. “Benoit?” Phillip calls as he rushes from what we realise is a hotel bedroom - cottage style, the walls made of grey stones, the windows frame made of wood and the curtains a see-through yellow cotton - to the bathroom right outside the bedroom, in the corridor. “What is it, dear?”

Benoit stands frozen in the doorway. “There is no bath.”

Phillip brings a hand to his chest and chuckles a sigh of relief. “You had me scared for a second. I thought you’d walked on a dead body. Or found a threatening message written with blood on the mirror.”

Benoit, obviously in shock, was not listening. “Where am I going to smoke my cigar, Philip?”

“You have grown an addiction.” And he did not mean the cigar.

“I mean, the shared bathroom, I could deal with, but…”

“Excuse-me,” a voice says behind them. They turn, to face a young woman. “Are you using the bathroom?” she asks.

Benoit makes a weird face as he realises that, actually, a shared bathroom he may not be able to deal with. Phillip responds, “Not at all, you are free to use it.” Then, with a hand on Benoit’s back, as he leads him in the corridor back to their bedroom. “Come, we have to unpack. Surely you can manage three days without a bath.”

“Oh, of course. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely place Coleen has picked.”

“Isn’t it? I cannot believe it is the very first holiday we are taking since…” Phillip’s face turns pale.

Benoit winces. “Don’t worry. There will be no murders at our niece’s wedding. What is this?” He frowns now, as he retrieves a squared painting from the suitcase.

“It’s my gift to Coleen and Louis.”

“That was meant for them?”

Phillip is an artist. In the recent years however, especially since the lockdown, he’d… started experimenting out of his usual range. It seems for this one, he’d intended to use every possible colour in the world, and graduated them in line, from lightest to darkest. There is no sense in his paintings and particularly this one. For Benoit, who tries to make sense out of everything, it is always the weirdest thing to witness.

“Why? Do you have something to say about it?”

“Not at all.”

“What is your gift, anyway?”

“A bottle of Dubonnet that belonged to Her Majesty the Queen herself.”

“Right. Of course.”

Some time later in the movie…

Knock knock.

The bathroom door is locked. Phillip sighs. Benoit was right. Shared bathrooms are an awful thing. He should know about it - he barely has access to the one in his own flat. It’s always taken over by Benoit.

Knock knock. Phillip knocks again. “Is somebody in here?”

No one replies. Jeez. Well he might as well go back to the party and use the bathroom there. Or perhaps one of the other gîtes are open. In any case - he has to go back outside to enter the buildings.

Phillip crosses the garden - the size of a park. It seems odd, after all, to enter other people’s gites, so he decides to go back to the party so to use the reception’s bathroom.

He knows Benoit is still at the party but he makes a point of passing in front of him without saying anything. Because he’s still angry with him. The reason why Phillip had decided to go to bed early.

Still, Benoit follows him to the bathroom.

“Phillip,” he says. The door closes behind him on its own. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I am. Our bathroom is taken.”

“How so?”

“It’s locked. I kept knocking but no one was replying.”

Benoit frowns. Phillip swears he could see his eyes brighten. “I am going to have a look.”

Phillip puts his hands on his hips and stares at his lover. “I cannot believe this.”

Benoit blinks. “Now, what?”

“You´re jumping on the opportunity to solve a stupid bathroom mystery, but when I offered you to walk around the garden with me, you preferred to stay and talk about all your murder quests to anyone who would hear you!” And everyone did listen.

“Is that why you’re angry?”

Phillip crosses his arms and looks away. “It’s not.”

Benoit rolls his eyes. “Then come. We are going to take a walk in the garden… as we head to the bathroom.”

“Such a romantic walk.”

“It is about the journey, not the destination.”

Phillip cannot help but smile.

…

Knock knock.

Still, no one replies.

Knock knock.

“Have you tried to open it?” Benoit asks as he puts his hand on the handle.

“Of course I have.”

Benoit turns the handle.

The door opens.

Phillip gasps of horror.

“I thought so,” Benoit just says. “Phillip. Phillip?”

Phillip is frozen.

“Phillip. I need you to call the police.”

Phillip nods. “Right. Of course.”

“Stay in the corridor. Do not leave my side.”

As Phillip does so, Benoit kneels.

In the middle of the puddle of blood, around the woman’s body, are multiple pieces of glass.

“You asshole,” Benoit grunts.

His fucking bottle of Dubonnet.

This came out of my head out of nowhere as I was simply just considering seeing more of the Benoit/Phillip pairing in the next movie.

´Kay. Bye.

#glass onion #knives out #benoit blanc #Daniel Craig #hugh grant #benoit blanc mysteries

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el-ly-sha-give-no-f · 3 years ago

Note

Hiiii, could you please write something with Ben Barnes x reader? Maybe the reader having a bad day or is sick. Flufffff please :D

ROMANTIC BAD AND SICK DAY

OH MA GAD! MY FIRST REQUEST! OKAY BREATH ELLY BREATH HERE WE GO! I hope this is what you're looking for! I do both, I mean why not? <3 thank you for the request.

-Check out my masterlist-

PAIR: Ben Barnes x reader

flashback, present

fluff

words: hehehe I lost count, sorreyyy

flashback this morning

"Darling, wake up, you gotta go to work" sound of my man's voice woke me up

who is he? Ben Thomas Barnes, the one and only, sometimes I think how come I end up with this man? we met each other at my brother's party 2 years ago. Talk about my brother, my brother is a quite famous actor, John Bernthal, yup he introduces me to Ben, and from that, we immediately click, hanging out together, call each other when Ben is across the world because of shooting, and we ended up being in a relationship but we stay as low as we can, we don't want any press or journalist mess up our relationship, only our family and close friend know about our relationship. 2 years is enough for him to ask me to move in with him.

"no, 5 more minutes please" I cooed enough for him to hear, "alright 5 more minutes it is," he said and I hear him walk away from our bedroom, and go downstairs to the kitchen I assume. I opened my eyes and saw an alarm clock on the nightstand that shows 6;55am. Okay, 5 more minutes.

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

"Y/N!, baby, darling, love, honey, wake up! you said five minutes? it's already been 35 minutes sweetheart." I shot up right after I heard what Ben just said.

"Ben, why didn't you wake me? I have to punch in my card before 8a.m", " Hey! I woke you up earlier" he replied. "earlier doesn't enough man, you need to carry me to the bathroom". He stood up from the edge of the bed.

I haven't had a chance to stretch my body, I feel he carried me up like a bridal style, "BEN!" I scream. "what? you say you want me to carry you to the bathroom so I carry you". He said and I just laugh, yeah he carried me to the bathroom, and just like that I can feel today gonna be a good day.

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

well, not as good as I thought it to be, it's the most horrible day of my entire life, first, this morning after I dressed up, I gave Ben a quick 'kissed, hug and I love you' after that, I ran out from the flat and go to my workplace that just couple blocks away from our flat so I don't need Bus, taxi or Ben to sent me to work, I can just walk but not today, TODAY I FUCKING RAN WITH HEELS ON!, second! I forgot to bring my files with me it's an important file! I got scolded by my boss, because of late for work and forgot to bring the files. Good thing today is Friday

I stared at the clock beside my laptop, it was 4:50 p.m, today feels very long no kidding, and currently, it's raining outside, so I don't how am I supposed to go back home, maybe I need to call Ben to pick me up.

I open my phone, to call Ben, our picture when we were at Disneyland became my lock screen and home screen, I smile like an idiot when I saw the pic, and I open my contact list and tap "king<3" name, I'm not the one who set his contact name on my phone like that, he's the one who set it. "Hello it's Ben here, sorry I can't answer the phone right now, I'm probably busy or I power off my phone, leave a message please, thanks", God dammit Ben.

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

yeah, here I am soaking wet standing in front of our doorstep, I decided to take off my heels because I don't want to fall and embarrassed myself in front of people and I ran from my workplace to our flat, God, Deja Vu? I took our flat keys from my bag and I open the door, greeted by the delicious smells of dinner that Ben was cooking.

"Honey? you're back?" I heard him calling from the kitchen, "wait it's raining right did someone send you-" "woohoo, babe, you could just call me to pick you up" I heard him say in his worried voice, he run to the bedroom to grab my towel, and he comes back to me and gives me my towel.

"I called you already but you didn't answer it", "wait, really,?" he said while he took his phone out from his pockets, I saw him scrunch his face, " darling, I'm so sorry, I probably didn't hear you call, sorry baby" he apologizes, I don't know why my eyes start to teary, he saw it and he quickly hugs me tightly he didn't even care my body is soaking wet, "Hey, why are you crying, what's wrong, something happened at work today? or is it because of the call? love, if it's about the call I'm sorry baby I didn't mean to" I just shook my head and sobbed onto his chest while I say "I was scolded by my boss today because I go late to work and I forgot to bring my stupid files" I continue sobbing, I feel he rub his hand on my back softly.

"Darling, I'm sorry all this happening, let me know if I can do anything for you" I just nod, "hey look at me babe" he pulled me from the hug, cupped my cheek, and his eyes softened when he saw my red eyes "It is okay to have bad days, I know you will sail through like a pro!" I smile and giggle. I saw him smiling too, "there's the beautiful smile" he added and I blush.

"Thanks, Ben", I thank him softly, and he just nods while smiling. "let's go I draw you a bath before you catch a cold" I just realised we both still stood in front of our flat door. I nod.

he drew me a bath, after that, we eat dinner that he cooked earlier and then we cuddled on the couch while watching y/f/m, I tried to open my eyes but it become hard to stay awake, Ben notice it by the way.

"you can sleep, sweetheart, today must be a tiring day for you", that's the last thing I heard before I fall asleep.

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

I woke up in the middle of the night when I feel so cold I realised I was sleeping on our bed, I felt Ben's hand wrapped around my waist, I tapped his hand to wake him, and he groan, "what's wrong baby, go back to sleep" he mumble, "can you turn off the air-con?" I ask him while my eyes still close, "love I didn't even turn it on" he said and he hear me snuffing, he open his eyes, "oh no, look like you have the cold baby, good thing tomorrow you're off" he looks at me and kissed my forehead, "noooo, ben you will catch a cold too" I said and he reply, "as I care, let me take an antihistamine and water for you eh'". I saw him wake up from bed and walk out of our room, very glad I got the right man to take care of me.

author note; IDK what to put for the title, tell me what you guys think! the request is open! thanks for reading and love you guys! sorry for the typos and grammar mistakes <3

#ben barnes imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #billy russo x you #imagine #oneshot

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from-the-clouds · 4 years ago

Text

Kiss Me More - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part Two

Summary: Reader works with Sam & Bucky and has a moment alone with Zemo upon their arrival in Riga. Loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: As if you couldn’t tell already when it comes to what characters I love to write for, I love a bad boy. This was meant to be a short, sweet fic and then I had to get all existential and invent an entire storyline around these two. I think there’s definitely room here for a multiple parts, if you’re interested. Let me know what you think!

----

“I’m going for a walk.”

Y/N didn’t argue with Bucky as he walked away stiffly. With anyone else, she would’ve been suspicious, but she knew Bucky well enough to know it was in her best interest to ignore any of his cryptic behavior. At the end of the day, she knew she could trust him.

Zemo’s flat was spacious and beautiful, and she wasn’t surprised by the ostentatious but minimalist decorating. Zemo excused himself into the bathroom to shower and freshen up. Sam eyed him wearily, but didn’t seem too concerned. Y/N sat down on a couch she guessed cost thrice as much as she paid monthly in rent.

“I’m going to grab some grub, want anything?” Sam asked after only a few moments of pacing around the apartment, seemingly checking to see if they were being set up.

Y/N shook her head no, the constant traveling over the past few days hadn’t been great for her appetite.

“Will you keep an eye on him?” Sam said, flicking his eyes in the direction of the bathroom, where she heard the patter of the shower running steadily.

“Of course,” she answered. Zemo had a reputation, she’d seen it herself. But she didn’t know him to the same extent that Bucky and Sam did. So far, he’d only been polite to her so she wasn’t exactly scared or intimidated about any sort of confrontation.

Plus, she was only here as a favor to her friends. She was hardly talented or important enough to be an Avenger. Bucky and Sam knew they could call her if they were in a pinch. And right now, they were definitely in a pinch.

Picking up a book of photography from the coffee table in front of her, she flipped through it absentmindedly, admiring the photos of ornate architecture and crowded city streets before the click of a doorknob caught her attention. Zemo emerged from the bathroom with damp hair in a bathrobe, slinging a towel over his shoulder and immediately making his way towards the kitchen.

Y/N heard the clink of glasses and ice, and she returned her attention to the book. All the traveling was catching up to her, as her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the quiet in the room allowed her body to finally settle.

“Have a drink with me,” she was startled when she realized Zemo was standing over her, a cocktail extended in her direction. Not a question, a command.

“I’m alright, thank you,” she said flatly.

“I have to celebrate.”

Sighing, and abandoning the book altogether she closed it, sitting it on the table and crossing her arms, looking up at him.

“Come on, It’s one drink,” he winked, and pressed the cocktail into her hands. Up close, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time, rather than just another means to an end for one of Bucky’s missions. Zemo was good-looking, there was no doubt there. Tall, Dark hair, handsome enough to turn heads, but not so chiseled to be unapproachable. She guessed he was maybe ten years her senior, and while she thought being locked up for so long might’ve taken a toll on anyone, there was no trace of it in his features.

Taking it reluctantly, but still not entirely sold, she raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat down next to her. “All right, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

He lifted his drink, and she sighed, shifting her weight so she was facing him, meeting his eyes and lifting her cocktail so it was level with his. “To being a free man.”

They clinked glasses and she took a sip, the bite of the liquor concealed by a sweet and smooth aftertaste. Whatever he’d made her, it was good.

“Temporarily,” she added after a moment, watching him take another sip of his drink.

“What?” he asked, turning to face her.

“You’re only a free man temporarily,” she said.

“Touche,” he answered, one arm stretching over the back of the couch, his hand nearly touching her shoulder. He gave her a devilish grin.

A surprising warmth fluttered in her stomach, and she turned away from him to sip her cocktail. She wasn’t ignorant. After all, she was the only woman in the group, she hadn’t missed his lingering glances and once-overs while they were partying in Madripoor. It would’ve been flattering, but she was probably the first woman he’d seen in years.

They sat in silence for a moment as Zemo leaned back to survey the room. She supposed she hadn’t done a good enough job of appreciating it the first time around, high ceilings, natural light, but just enough privacy to feel cozy and inviting. Another steely sip of liquor passed her lips. She hadn’t had a drink in god only knew how long.

“Tell me, doesn’t this work get exhausting?” his smooth, accented voice cut through the quiet. “Traveling all the time, getting beat up, the lack of sleep, or a routine, following orders…”

She shrugged, pondering a moment. “It’s not so bad. Plus, it’s not like I know anything else.” When she glanced over at him, his eyes were fixated intently on her, but he was unreadable. “I know you think I’m a monster, but I’m just doing what’s right.”

“What you think is right,” he corrected, and before she could bite back, finished his thought. “My people, my family. All gone because of what someone with too much power thought was right.” A sadness flickered across his visage, but disappeared as soon as she could register it.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, earnest.

“And I don’t think you’re a monster,” Zemo said, shifting his weight so he was facing her dead on, tilting his head to the side and studying her. Something about his gaze felt sharp, like he could see through her. “You aren’t entirely sold on all this, I can see it in your eyes.”

His words cut deep, deeper than she was willing to admit to anyone, even herself. But what was normal? And could she ever be? “What makes you think that?”

“How often do you get to be selfish?” he asked. His robe gaped open a little at the top, revealing a dainty silver chain necklace clasped around his neck with a small charm dangling from it, pale skin and a smattering of chest hair. “When was the last time you got to sit down, relax, enjoy yourself?”

Glancing down at the drink in her hand, feeling slightly vulnerable, she felt a smiling playing at the edges of her lips. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m enjoying myself right now,” he said, and she raised her eyebrows. “What, can you blame me? Good whiskey, a beautiful woman by my side.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, holding back a smile. Warmth crept like vines up her neck, pooling in her cheeks. “You should be careful,” she warned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He leaned closer and she could smell the scent of his aftershave, smoke and musk, heat from the shower still radiating off his body. Maybe the whiskey was getting to her. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he lifted the drink to meet his lips, pitching his head back to finish off the liquor before discarding the empty glass on the table in front of them.

“Would it be so bad if I was?”

Outside, the sun passed behind a cloud, and the room dimmed ever so slightly, casting shadows that caught along Zemo’s cheekbones, his jawline. The waning light made her all the more aware of how the energy in the room had shifted.

“It’d be unprofessional,” she said, voice low, and he seemed much closer than he’d been before. But he wasn’t the only one closing the gap, she realized she was definitely, inadvertently, meeting him halfway.

“Oh well,” he said, softly. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her eyes adjusted to the light, and up close, he was mesmerizing, deep brown eyes filled with longing. His gaze made her stomach turn, and she knew she should be disgusted but she just couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than intrigue.

Shaking her head no, she couldn’t find the words to speak. Maybe because she wouldn’t believe any last attempts at protest. Better to save her breath.

The Baron’s hand, cool from the icy glass, rose to cup her cheek, so gentle and tender, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. Frozen, all she could do was breathe slowly as her heart raced. “Zemo-” she began weakly.

“Helmut,” he corrected. “Call me Helmut.”

Y/N gave no answer, unable to remember what she had been protesting when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

Goosebumps rose along her arms, ears ringing, as he kissed her. The arm he’d been resting on the couch behind her pulled her closer, and her own free hand rose to his neck, letting him take control.

Her lips parted and his tongue traced her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. He groaned into her mouth, the vibration raising every hair on her body. Oh, she knew it was bad, but she hadn’t felt so desired, so wanted in years. Wandering hands lazily slid down his neck, to his shoulders where her fingers pushed underneath the loose neckline of his robe, palms exploring the broad expanse of his chest.

Her skin tingled, every exposed surface aching to be touched, explored by him, and maybe he could tell as his hand left her jaw to coast down her torso, all the way to hook behind her knee and pull her leg across his lap, an invitation to straddle him that didn’t go unnoticed, but she’d need time to decide whether or not she was willing to go that far.

As for exploring, he wasted no time bringing his hand back up her stomach, to hover lightly over the curve of her breast, squeezing gently as to gauge her reaction, a request to continue, and her breath caught in her mouth, her body instinctively pressing against him. His thumb found the peak of her nipple even through the padding of her bra and thin t-shirt.

Her lips parted from his to let out a breathless moan, and his mouth trailed down her neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue and teeth passed over a particularly sensitive spot, which he discovered when she let out a strangled gasp, and doubled down, sucking and grazing over and over until she finally couldn’t bare it any longer and she pulled away.

Zemo’s face hovered inches from hers, and she wanted to give him some sort of excuse. That this was wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this, but she took in his equally unfastidious appearance and decided not to waste her words on something so cliche. He looked utterly breathtaking.

He didn’t move away, just smiled gently. “How does it feel...to do the bad thing?” he teased.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that passed her lips, feeling lightheaded and giddy. “Not so bad at all,” She should’ve been enraged, she should’ve wretched herself out of his arms, but she was engulfed in his scent and his comforting presence, unwilling to leave. It wasn’t so terrible to be selfish. It was her who closed the gap between them again.

He smiled against her lips, hand returning to hook behind her knee once more, and this time she obliged, shifting her weight so she could straddle his lap and his hands met both sides of her hips as she cupped his face, fingers in his hair on his shoulders, kissing him with unbridled passion.

She could feel his excitement through the fabric of the robe, and knew she was getting carried away, but every nerve in her body smarted for contact. He was impossibly warm and she couldn��t get enough of it. Rolling her hips forward to tease him, he let out a groan and arched upward. “Oh, liebling, I wish we had more time.”

As if on cue, she heard the scratching of the key in the front doorway, and was immediately jolted from her reverie. Before she knew it she was off the couch and halfway across the room, just as Bucky entered, looking perturbed as always.

“Hey,” she said, turning her back to him and pretending to look out the window, voice unsteady. She heard Helmut clear his throat and shift his weight on the couch.

Busying herself in the kitchen, she let the curtain of her hair fall over the side of her face, hiding her clearly flustered appearance, her face was still impossibly warm, her skin sensitive, lips swollen. “How was your walk?”

“Fine,” Bucky said, and she heard him walking towards her as she absentmindedly pretended to wipe down the countertops. When he brushed past her to use the sink she jumped, finally looking him in the eyes. Bucky frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Staring back at him for a moment she nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You just seem a little jumpy.”

“There was a spider,” the lie came out so easily, so quickly, that she was actually ashamed of it. “It was big and I….I don’t know where it went.”

Bucky snorted, and whether he believed her or not, didn’t respond. “Where’s Sam?” he asked.

“Out getting dinner,” she said, feeling her heart rate begin to turn back to normal. Bucky washed his hands and shook the excess water off in the basin.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to lie down,” she said after a moment. “The jetlag is catching up to me.”

She turned around and left Bucky in the kitchen, returning to the lounge area where Zemo turned to look over his shoulder. “Allow me to show you to the guest bedroom,” he said, an ornery sparkle in his eyes.

“Fine,” she said flatly, wondering what exactly he was planning and just intrigued enough to resist an argument.

The bedroom was just out of Bucky’s earshot, down a short hallway. As she stepped over the threshold to the awaiting large, inviting bed, a hand on her waist halted her in her tracks.

“I’m not finished with you,” she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses once more. It took a great deal of control to pull herself away from him, as she turned around and grabbed the doorknob, dragging it towards her. “We’ll see about that,” she said quietly, shutting the door in his face and letting out an exhausted breath. She’d awakened a monster, and now she had no idea what to do about it.

---

PART II out now!

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please let me know!

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outerbankies · 3 years ago

Note

i see topper being drunk and passed out in wilburs dog bed

+ for the other anon who said: “WILLIE AND TOP SCENES PLZ”

here you go! let’s say this takes place at some point in the new light universe over the summer when everyone’s still home from college

new light blurb: soft spot

new light series masterlist

pairing: rafe x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drunkenness

“Bottomless mimosas at the Island Club still packs a punch, huh, Top?”

You’d smile over at your boyfriend at his quip, but you’re too busy currently supporting half of Topper’s weight (well, more like 30 percent—all Rafe would allow you to carry) as you and Rafe help him up your front porch steps. And after spending the entire 20-minute Uber ride back to your house wrestling Topper’s phone out of his hand so he couldn’t call his almost-but-not-really-girlfriend, you were already exhausted.

“Shut up, Cameron,” Topper slurs, stumbling a bit as you try to unlock your front door. You weren’t nearly as gone as Topper but you fiddle with your keys long enough that Rafe speaks up.

“You got it, baby?”

“Yep, yes,” you confirm finally pushing the door open, the cool AC on your skin a welcome change from the summer humidity.

“Ah,” Rafe sighs, cheeks flushed. “Feels good in here.”

“Remind me why we couldn’t just take him to his own house?” you ask.

“His grandpa’s got that garden party later, remember,” Rafe says, finally nudging you away enough times that you just lead them up the stairs while Rafe helps Topper. “It’s at his mom’s so they’ll be setting up all day. We have to go too, sweetheart. Do you still have that polo I left here after your mom’s brunch thing?”

Rafe had shown up ten minutes early to the event your mom was hosting last weekend in a white undershirt and pressed slacks, modeling for you two different shirt options he couldn’t decide on. When you picked the best one, he left the other behind in your closet. Your lips quirk up at the memory of him, palms sweaty and nerves evident as he stuck to your side all morning, cheeks permanently tinged red by how many of your mom’s friends called him handsome. “Yes, that navy blue one?”

“Yeah, that should do, right?”

“I think so. Business stuff?”

“Yeah. It’s his re-election announcement. My dad wants me to talk to this potential investor. You could wear that white dress.”

“Which—”

“Oh fuck,” Topper slurs, swaying once the two of you get to the top of the landing. “That’s today?”

“Yeah bud,” Rafe huffs a breath. “Which you conveniently forgot to tell us about until round five. You have about three hours to sleep this off.”

“Rafe, he’s not gonna—”

“Have a little faith, Y/n/n. Ivy League over here can clearly hold his liquor.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Topper murmurs, pushing Rafe off and promptly falling flat on his face in your hallway. “Ow.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe says, hands on his hips. “I’m gonna murder Kelce for dipping on us. Can we just leave him there?”

“In the middle of my hallway? Rafe, no.”

“Well he’s not going in your bed, is he?”

“Why not?”

“Because where are we—”

Topper’s grumble from the floor interrupts your bickering, and Rafe just sighs, picking his friend back up again.

“Rafe, I just don’t want my parents to see him. We can go sleep in the—”

“No, the guest rooms don’t have locks,” Rafe says.

“So?” you question, kicking off your heels and flicking on the light in your room. “It’s not like we’re gonna do anything.”

“Is your dad home?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you in an unlocked room,” he huffs, dragging Topper through your doorway.

“Then where is—”

“I have an idea.”

Rafe beelines to the dog bed in the corner of your bedroom, making sure Wilbur is safe to one side before gently laying Topper down on the other side.

“Rafe, no,” you whisper-shout. “You know he’s afraid of Wilbur.”

Your boyfriend just shushes you, pointing at the two of them.

Topper is out instantly, curling up around your dog who just sniffs him over a few times before nuzzling into him too.

“Problem solved.”

“Babe, he can’t sleep on the dog bed,” you chide, jewelry coming off.

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart,” Rafe says, sitting at the edge of your bed to take off his shoes. “He’s fine. Look at him. Most relaxed he’s ever been around Willie. Isn’t he, buddy?”

Wilbur’s tail swishes against your feet when you walk to the closet, stopping to take a picture of the two of them before changing.

“Rafe, do you wanna—”

“Nap,” Rafe says, already shirtless underneath your covers, patting the space next to him. You just smile, hitting your light again before crawling up next to him.

“Hi,” you whisper, giving him a peck. Rafe’s hand behind your head stops you once you try to pull back so he can kiss you some more.

“Hi.”

You feel the sleepiness come for you the moment you rest your head on his chest, his hand coming to rest on your back, shirt rucked up so he can touch you skin to skin.

“We’re not making it to that garden party, are we?”

“Don’t underestimate us, Y/l/n. We did shit like this all the time in high school.”

“But we’re not in high school now.”

“Well of course not,” Rafe says. “Cause then I wouldn’t be in your bed right now—”

A voice from the floor interrupts you both.

“Listen, I am, like. Just so, so happy you guys finally got your shit together,” Topper slurs. “Like, Rafe, man? That—I was impressed. Really didn’t think it’d happen for a bit there.”

“Uh… thanks Top,” Rafe grumbles as you try to stifle your laughter.

“And you too, Y/n,” Topper continues in slurs. “Like seriously, no idea why it took this long but—”

“Is there a point to this story?”

“Yes. Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Okay, Ivy League,” Rafe digs, causing you to giggle again.

“Fuck you both. Also, who’s dog is this?”

—

tags (lmk if u dont wanna be tagged in blurbs like this!): @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @arvinrussellseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @imjustanothernerd @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan

#new light hcs #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #obx imagine

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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harrysmimi · 3 years ago

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Periwinkle, Chp 1

Spaghetti And Talk

More of my work | Series Master list

Harry was all dressed up to go to his girlfriend's graduation party, a white button down shirt tucked into pair of black dress pants, his classis boots. He fixed his hair passing by the mirror just one last time.

His phone dinged which lied face down on the mattress of his double bed, leaving the blazer he picked up his phone to see a text from his girlfriend asking if he have left already. He typed in his quick response, dropping the phone back on his bed picked up his blazer. Slipped his wallet into the back pocket of his pants and headed out.

As soon as he headed out she saw his neighbour fiddling with her door balance a load of things in her hands as she tried to lock the door. Her phone trapped between her ear and her shoulder, a similar graduation gown hung over her arm as she tried to lock her door managing a heap of bags and being scolded at by someone over the call.

"Hey you need any help there?" He asked.

"Oh, thank you, I am fine," she smiled and finally locked the door, catching her phone in her hand she smiled at Harry.

"Busy day at Salon?" He asked, noticing about at least eight paper bags in her hands.

"Oh yes," she nodded, "summer is approaching so it's going to be very crowded."

"I see, have an appointment at your Salon next week," he smiled back.

"Oh see you there then," she seemed to be in hurry

"Yup," he nodded, "you look to be in hurry isn't it almost closing time?"

"I've got to go help with setting up things for tomorrow," she shrugged chuckling, "anyway Sandy will kill me if I am late she was already kind of mad at me on the call as she's got a date tonight, I better get going! You have an amazing night!"

"I will, thank you!" He chuckled seeing her in hurry down the stairs instead of taking the lift, he pressed the button to call up the lift as he wasn't in hurry. The mop of dyed red hair disappeared right in front of him.

The lady who lived in the flat next door was her Grandmother and the girl came to see her almost everyday, it was frequent until the lady passed away. Harry made pretty good friends with the girl over the time though. YN was the name of the girl who rushed in hurry past him, she was the crazy one who dyed her hair a new colour every other month. She said she was going to take care of her Grandmother's hair Salon in London after which made sense of her constantly experimenting with her hair, she also worked there to help her mum. She is very sweet and humble though she come from a rich family, her grandma who owned a very well known Salon in the country.

Harry liked her, in fact the tiny attraction he's had towards her. Perhaps an itty-bitty crush, but he is very well aware of the fact that he in fact have a girlfriend. What he also knew was YN was borderline in love with him but have kept it to herself as she is just too scared to confess, and also that she never crossed his boundaries. YN doesn't know he have a girlfriend who he have been dating for a year, she isn't the type to ruin someone's perfect relationship.

Harry decided to go take a cab to his girlfriend's school in as she had told him that. His cab driver made him late, his girlfriend texting him and spamming his messages with upset texts asking him to hurry like he can just fly the car as if he is Harry Potter and not Harry Styles. But at last he made it to the place.

They both have been in an argument about him not being able to make time for her because of work. He lived alone, he's got rent and bills to pay and of course put food to his own plate as he no longer lived with his mother unlike her. He was definitely pissed and not at a right place but he was ready to put it to aside just for the night, maybe make upto her during his summer break take her home to see his mum but not before sorting out things with her.

"Oh hey Harry," he was greeted by his girlfriend's best friend Ira (Eye-Rah), she was there with her boyfriend.

"Hey how are you?" Harry greeted her with a side hug, "where is Blake?"

"She's in waiting for you, I'll take you to her. Dance is already started," the girl rambled as she walked in to the where the party was going on.

Harry and his girlfriend didn't go to the same college, they met during his last year of college at the pizza place he worked at when he moved to London for college a year ago. She was bold enough to ask him out on a date. Harry was hesitant of, but it worked out and now they've been together for just a month over a year. He has never been so in love with someone before.

He was a little nervous to go the graduation party, in a college he didn't go to. He followed Ira to the gym side of their school where the dance was going on. His heart did a little flutter hearing Blake's favourite song playing, he is sure she had harrassed her DJ friend to play it.

"She was just here," Ira said helping Harry look for his girlfriend.

Harry looked around, until he found the brunette he was looking for. It was like someone just air sealed his lungs and guts in a torturously tight plastic bag.

Blake was dancing with another guy. Well he wouldn't mind she have guy friends. Harry wouldn't feel this hurt if he wasn't touching her. A split second felt like whole ten minutes as he watched that guy's hand run up and down her back and settle dangerously close to her butt. He turned around as Blake turned around to face her back to the guy, he can not see her grinding on him. She was drunk her ass off there already. He noticed Ira was already gone.

Was there a point in going there and confront Blake about it? Probably, and he almost did when he found her kissing that guy.

That was it!

He left the place and decided to walk home though it would take him and hour and his legs would probably fall off from intense cardio. He can probably get over that.

Just as he was on his way he saw YN's car parked right in front of a a different building just about twenty minutes away from his own. She was taking out groceries from the back seat, a pair of beats over her head as she danced and sang along to some Michael Jackson song. For a moment Harry decided to walk past her and let her do her thing, but he really felt like he needed someone to talk to or else he'll be a crying mess back home, all alone.

"Hey YN," he called, causing her to startle and drop the paper bag of her groceries. A loaf of bread wrapped in a plastic bag, a few Tomatoes and onions, a small pack of spaghetti and everything else spilt out.

"Oh no my eggs!" She exclaimed crouching and taking off her flannel shirt she had on as a jacket, to pick up the stuff and gather everything in the shirt and use it as a makeshift bag. "Well not my eggs, my chicken egg!"

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Harry chanted as he immediately got to helping her.

"It's okay, it's okay!" She assured him, "don't step on the tomatoes..."

It was too late he accidentally stepped on two of her tomatoes.

"God!" She sighed sitting down on the pavement not bothering anymore to collect her veggies.

"Hey, I'm so, so, so sorry! I really didn't mean to scare you like that, I'll, I'll pay you back don't worry about that." He assured her.

"No, no, it's okay, you don't have to," she shook her head, "they're all messed up anyway," the only thing that was left intact was one Tomato, luckily all her onions and the bread loaf in it's plastic bag.

"You've still got one Tomato left," Harry picked it up. He couldn't help but smile at her defeated pout.

"Yeah that's not enough to make spaghetti, I was craving some spaghetti. I finally found like the easiest way to make it on YouTube, but..." She sighed, "anyway, you alright? You look a bit upset if I'm not assuming."

"I guess I'm not okay really, I was just headed home when I saw you wanted to say Hi," he looked a little embarrassed, the flush on his face making him look like a tomato. The irony have to be; chefs kiss!

Pun intended!

"You want to go on a ride? We can get spaghetti!" YN offered.

"I don't want to bother, I already bothered you enough." He helped her pick up the trash and clean up the pavement the best they both could by picking up the somewhat destroyed yet intact tomatoes and throw them in the bin a little down the street.

"Come on, I'm offering," she waved off his excuse.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah and you can rant about whatever to me, I don't mind I'm all here for the tea," she said with the cheeky smile, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

"You're amazing," Harry giggled getting into her car with her.

"So what happened?" She asked, "you looked very happy when we met earlier."

"Oh, when you were at your grandma's flat?" He asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I was there to take care of a few things before it goes up for rent."

"You're putting it up for rent?"

"Yep! My grandma actually wanted to move with me to the pent house of hers I live in but that never happened so the tenant was her client; just so you know, I don't want you think I'm going to profit off of my dead grandma's property." She explained.

"I would never judge you," he assured her. Though he can kinda tell that she has been asked about it a lot, or at least that's what's he thinks is the reason behind her explaination.

"So what happened to you my friend that you look like a day old wrinkly carrot?" She asked, he couldn't help but chuckle at the choice of her words.

"Is it really okay if I just rant?" He was very surprised that someone wanted to hear him talk.

"Sure why not!" She shrugged keeping her eyes on the road as she drove, "I mean only if you want to though, if you don't want to or you feel uncomfortable. I can rant about my day if you want instead."

He knows that she talks alot and she is a very interesting person to be around, Harry had figured a long time ago.

"I, I actually have a question if you don't mind, it is kind of personal you can not answer it. I'm just... A little curious." He looked down at his fiddling thumbs in his lap.

"Shoot!" She agreed.

"Have you ever been through a break up?" He asked. "I'm sorry if it's too personal."

"Oh it's totally fine. I went through my first breakup when I was fifteen I guess, I have been dating this guy from my class for about a year. It was very bad, I was a being a little dramatic bitch that I am. But it was horrible!" She shared, punctuating her rant with her giggles.

"Why did you break up with him?"

"Oh he was moving to LA with his mother after she got divorced. The worse part was like my little fifteen year old ass thought we going to get married, move to Bahamas and like have a cricket team together." She laughed at her old self, "and even worse patt about was that, that little fucker didn't even tried to tell me that he moved to LA I found out from his drunk dad."

"Oh that's bad," Harry said. Be didn't wanted to smile, she was sharing a miserable story but he couldn't help it by the way she went on with her story telling.

"Yeah, and the second time my girlfriend slept with my best friend in my own house, it happened like four months ago. It was two shots with one arrow, lost my best friend and kicked that bitch out of my life!" She shared another story.

"Oh now that's horrible," he frowned. Now he didn't understood how she moved on so fast or how she feels so comfortable with sharing her experience so casually.

"Yeah, I know," she nodded, "but you can talk to me whatever you want to I'm here to listen to. That's all I do at work."

"Yeah? People rant to you about anything at the hair salon?" He chuckled.

"Hell yeah, that's like my favourite part of the job," she exclaimed, "I have heard the worse, the worse, stories in only two years of my training and hair school."

"That sounds fun though," he exclaimed.

"It is fun!" She nodded in agreement. "And what happened to you?"

"Caught my girlfriend cheating," he blurt out.

Now YN felt like her heart dropped to her abdominal cavity real hard. He have a girlfriend? Well, he caught her cheating on him. But does that really do anything to make things better? She liked him since the she have met him. But he is going through the worse part of it, she sighed and pushed what she was felt in that moment in the very back burner.

"I'm sorry," YN said. She had stopped at a red light so she could turn to look at him.

"Yeah, we have been dating for a year now, I really did not expected to see that. It just really made upset I guess," he nodded, "light's green."

"Oh," she started driving again, "I mean it is very understandable why you're upset. Can I ask you if you talked to her or not?"

"About this?" He scoffed, "no, I am so fucking mad right now I just don't know how to process it. I've never been cheated on before nor I have been through a break up."

"I can say I understand, really, I've been through similar situation. But you'll find a way to understand your feelings." She assured him, "I'm sorry I'm not very good at giving relationship advices. But I can tell you that you need to get a closure from her or that's really going to fuck you up bad. And I mean it."

"It's fine, I'll talk to her when I figure out how to process how I'm feeling right now." He nodded, "before I wanted to cry but I don't know what happened now."

"Yeah, but remember; always put yourself first no matter what, that's what my Nani used to say to me you know," YN said, "at the end the day there are only going be handful of people who really care about you. And it's okay, but you need to put yourself first and do what feels right for you."

"That's a very good advice," Harry nodded, "that's what my mum says to me sometimes. Just that I've never been through a break up."

"It's a rollercoaster ride, isn't it?" She said and he just nodded.

YN had parked in front of a nice looking restaurant which he reckons have spaghetti at this time. They'd both gotten a table and she ordered herself a spaghetti, Harry went for the same as he couldn't think of anything right off his head to order. It was very quick, their food was served within minutes. Mainly because there were hardly ten people in the diner.

"Enjoy!" The man who served their food patted YN's head and left. Harry was confused.

"Oh that's my uncle by the way, he owns this restaurant." She explained, Harry nodded understanding what just happened.

"If you don't mind me asking how are you doing after you know..." Harry stopped his question halfway not wanting to push her boundaries. She seemed bery close to her grandma and he didn't wanted to upset her.

"I'm doing good, thank you." She said, "it just feels very empty and erie without her now. But for most of the part I feel fine."

"I'm sorry, but you can talk to me if you want anything okay?" He offered.

"Looks like we've become besties now, haven't we?" She winked.

"You can say that," he shrugged simply.

"So bestie, tell me about your girlfriend," she prompted.

"I dunno, I wanted to take her home to meet my mum this summer." He shared.

"Wait, you've been dating for a year and you haven't yet taken her to see you mum?" YN looked rather surprised that he expected.

"Yeah, I mean she dodged my suggestion for Christmas when we've been dating for about six months. My mum came to see me in London so it wouldn't be weird for her parents to send her with me all the way to Manchester." Harry explained, "she said she was going to Paris with her family but she never went. And this time around we've been arguing a lot so I really couldn't talk about it."

"Do you think she was serious about seeing your mum?" She asked.

"Yeah, she took me to meet her parents who were rather rude might I add." He explained taking a sip from his Coke.

"Hmm," she sighed as if she is analysing some data in her head, "you missed a red flag there my friend."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah, she didn't wanted to meet your parents." She nodded, "I mean I'm still going to tell you to talk to her 'cause I'm as stupid as you are. And I really suck at giving relationship advice."

"Did you just called me stupid?" He gasped dramatically, YN was quick to pick up on his teasing and just shrugged simply.

"I called myself stupid too," she added.

"That's understandable," he agreed. She gasped, crumpled up a tissue and threw it at him making him fall into fit of laughs.

.....................................................................

Well, Harry thought he was going to cry tonight but he didn't. Not exactly as he expected, like sobbing and throwing a fit. He did cried, it felt nice to get out what he was feeling.

It wasn't until a week later on Sunday he had a knock on his door. His was sister visiting him for a week, as he was expecting her back from meeting her friends so they can go out for dinner but he opened the door to find Blake there.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I, I, uhhh... I wanted to talk."

"What is it?" He asked.

"I, I, uhhh... I am really sorry," Blake sighed, "for, for..."

"For?" He wanted her to say it.

"Basically cheating on you, I, I didn't mean to. I was, I was drunk and I... I don't know, I am really sorry," she stuttered.

"Basically? Yeah, I saw you making out with the guy you told me not to fucking worry about," he started, "now I'm sorry we're done here Blake."

"Are you, are you breaking up with me? No!" Her tone was defensive.

"Yes, I don't want this to go any further, okay?" He was trying to be as calm as he could be, "I can't trust you anymore."

"Don't do this Harry, please?" She looked at him, tears glazing her pretty big blue eyes.

"Just leave Blake, please," he sighed.

"Okay, okay, but can we please talk again?" She asked.

"I don't know, just leave for now," it felt very hard for him to push her away like that. It would sound a tad bit dramatic but it felt like someone was ripping out his heart from his chest. He is just putting himself first here, that's what his sister told him as well.

"We have not broken up Harry," was the last thing he heard from her before he shut the door.

.....................................................................

"Harry I need you sit still," YN scolded him as she tried to give him a proper hair cut.

Yeah, like he said he's got an appointment at her Salon he showed up.

"Dude come on," she whined, watching him dodge her. "Where K keep the clippers now?"

"No, no, no, I'm sorry I'll sit still," he stopped not wanting her to shave his head off.

They both had to stop their playing around like little kids hearing Sandh clearing her throat, "Keep it professional here, will you now?" That was directed to YN to which she nodded.

"Is she always like this?" Harry asked.

"Shush!" YN scolded him.

After his hair cut was done and he's followed her to the cash counter to pay. Sandy was stood there with her suspicious eyes lurking over them both. Sandy's been like YN's second guardian and the woman is very protective of her.

"Hey do you wanna go somewhere?" He asked, in whispered tone.

"I can't, I just started my shift." She whispered back.

"What the fuc— you own this place!" He whispered exclaimed.

"I can't, I can't, I—"

"I will wait, ten minutes. Parking lot behind the mall." He took his card back and annouced as he walked out of the store.

"What was he doing here?" One of the new girl at the Salon asked.

"He's our client, Ira now go do your work before Sandy fires you," YN groaned and walked away to go find the Manager.

"I know, I heard it all," Sandy interrupted YN even before she could say anything, "do you want to go?"

"Please?" She gave her sad puppy dog eyes.

"Okay fine go," Sandy rolled her eyes.

"I love you," YN cooed and hugged Sandy giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You look very fucking scrumptious in that dress, I'd steal you but your husband might kill me for that!" YN blee her one last kiss before she ran to the back room to get out of her apron.

......................................................................

"How did you get away from your Karen boss?" He asked.

"Aye, don't talk about her like that huh! I'ma break you face if you do so," she warned him. "Where do you wanna go?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Dude," she sighed, "I'm going back to work!"

"Oh come on, I really don't know where to go!" He whined, "and I'm bored. I've got no friends!"

"You've got friends. In every corner of London I bet," she pointed out, "wanna go to the arcade?"

"That sounds fun!" He already unlocked his car.

"'cause it is fun!" She rolled her eyes jokingly.

......................................................................

"Harry stop stealing my balls!" YN pushed him away as they both raced on the basketball game seeing who can make more points. He was stealing balls from her side, but she was way ahead of her game.

"I won, I WON!" She celebrated, "someone was saying he's a pro in basketball!"

"Yeah, yeah what ever!" He rolled his eyes, "you can't beat in this though," he challenged her to the arm wrestling.

"Okay, you can go first," she accepted the challenge.

Harry got through four rounds, on fifth he lost. It was intense when YN was on her fifth around and it was head on competition between her and the robot wrestler.

"It's okay YN, you can give up," he tried to distract her.

"Shut. Up!" She groaned and actually won the round. "Did I told you I grew up in a very fucked boarding school? Better luck next time lad!" She patted his shoulder and collect her reward tickets she was going to spend on to buy the Pikachu stuffed toy at the gift store.

It was a fun day at arcade!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #boyfriendrry #boyfriend!harry #Periwinkle

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: �� Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long!

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron??

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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ren-therose · 4 years ago

Text

The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation.

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

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

“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it.

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper.

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me.

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet.

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore.

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across.

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him.

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs.

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him.

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies.

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials.

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out.

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”.

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in.

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take.

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease.

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him.

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up.

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me.

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me.

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor.

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key.

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now.

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him.

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask.

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out.

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me.

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me.

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm.

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now.

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair.

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us.

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me.

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core.

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter.

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan.

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage.

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore.

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something.

“Show me”.

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later.

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”.

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up.

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me.

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point.

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum.

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance.

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered.

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him.

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink.

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch #cumberbitches

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