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strawberryspence · 3 years ago

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A Dinner and A Future

Fluff | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer just wants your first date to be perfect and surprisingly, it goes really well.

Word Count: 3,7k.

Warnings: some cursing, first date nerves, but that's it. just pure mindless fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! I've been going through a writing dry spell and the thing that solved it was writing this. I've been seeing a lot of edits on tiktok about Spencer's traumas and I just wanted to give him something simple and happy. I was also listening to Kodaline on repeat while reading this, so yeah it's going be hella sappy. Enjoy! <3

Gif is mine. Lesley Smith-Juniment, you have my heart.

Spencer is nervous.

Wait no, scratch that, nervous is not good enough. He was brimming to the edge with worry and queasiness. What other synonyms does nervous have? Spencer was antsy, anxious, perturbed, uneasy, at this point he can recite the whole thesaurus.

Spencer closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. He can do this. He has waited for this for a long time and he won’t waste it because of burnt pasta.

Okay, he looks back at the note that David Rossi himself wrote in his own special handwriting.

1. Cook 1 pound pasta until Al Dente. Boy Genius, Al Dente should be firm when bitten. You cook it on a boiling water with salt and oil. SALT AND OIL.

2. While that’s cooking, do nothing. LITERALLY DO NOTHING. Watch it. Do the sauce later. In some miraculous way, if you don’t watch the pasta you’ll burn it.

A grin spreads across Spencer’s face as he puts down the paper and reaches for the fettuccine pasta and dropping it on the boiling water (which he measured with measuring cups he borrowed from JJ)

“Okay, now I wait for it to boil.” Spencer stares at the pasta as it cooks. Did he buy enough parmesan cheese? or enough pecorino cheese? Oh no. He looks over the other side of his counter where all the (complete) ingredients sit and he sighs in relief as if he hasn’t checked it 15 times since he started.

The pasta was still cooking and isn’t going to be firm anytime soon. Spencer ponders if he should just cook the sauce while waiting but he knows he’s going to mess it up if he doesn’t give it his undivided attention.

He looks at the watch on his wrist as it ticks to 5:21. He has one hour, thirty nine minutes and forty six seconds. He still has time before the date. The date with you.

It took him nine months, Derek and Emily annoying him to death to just ask the pretty librarian out, one extensive background research from Penelope, two separate talks of the “You deserve to be happy” advice from JJ and Hotch and one lecture about marriage from Rossi to finally ask you out.

He’s kinda annoyed really because he spent so much time thinking about you and thinking of the perfect way to ask you out but he shows up at the library you work at one day with a cup of coffee in hand and his heart on the other.

You didn’t even hesitate. There was no pause to process what he asked, there was no questions following the embarrassing stumbling of the words, “W-will you go have d-dinner with me? L-like a date... Date?” You immediately said yes with a small hop and the biggest smile on your face.

This date has to be perfect. He asked you to come to his apartment at 7. Spencer would’ve picked you up but he was making you a home made dinner and the date was taking place on the rooftop of you apartment, which Penelope and Derek helped him decorate with lights.

He tries the pasta and when its finally firm to the bite, he takes this as his queue to read the paper again. Of course, he can remember all of the instructions but Rossi still wrote it down and reading it calms his nerves.

3. If its cooked, drain your pasta water but leave a little pasta water on the side. Then you can continue.

4. In a pan on MEDIUM heat (just around 2-3 on the stove setting) cook one pound diced pancetta and 1 cup chopped onions in olive. Put this down and chop chop!

Spencer puts the paper down as he follows the instructions to drain the pasta. After he was done with it he puts the pan on the stove and starts chopping up the ingredients he needs.

Cooking is strangely calming. He never thought he’d find it calming. He always found himself burning stuff. So he sticks to the microwaveable meals and fast foods, even if he knows the statistics about these kinds of food.

After finishing the chopping he reaches over the paper and reads it again.

5. Are you done? Okay. Put the chopped stuff on the pan with olive oil and cook it until the pancetta is browned and onions are soft.

He immediately follows the instructions written. The onion and pancetta create a silent hiss as it hits the pan. As it cook he looks down again.

6. That’s going to take a while, so leave it but stay by its side. I am giving you permission to do two things at once. Dr. Reid, please be mindful of it.

Spencer rolls his eyes before proceeding to #7.

7. Combine the two cheeses. Then divide it in half. Then pour the half into 4 egg YOLKS. Just yolks! The yellow ones! Then beat it lightly until its really combined.

He has already separated the egg yolks from the whites (a job he didn’t think would be that hard but was surprisingly very hard) before he started cooking. He adds the combination of cheeses to the eggs and lightly beats it as he watches the pan of onions and pancetta sizzle.

When done with the egg and cheese combo, he gives the pan a stir before looking back down.

8. Is the egg done? Yes? Good. Is the pancetta and onion good? Yes? Good.

9. Okay, now you put your pasta in the pancetta pan.

10. REMOVE IT FROM THE HEAT! REMOVE IT!

Spencer follows the instructions to the T. He puts the pasta on the pancetta, gives it a stir and immediately removes it from the heat. He sighs in relief. He hasn’t burned anything yet.

11. You haven’t burned anything yet? I am proud of you.

12. Now, pour the egg mixture into the pan and toss the pasta until coated. TOSS IT GENTLY. If you’re scared use tongs.

13. Pour about 1/4 cup of the pasta water I told you to set aside earlier. You don’t have to pour all 1/4 cup, just until you get the creaminess you want.

Spencer reaches over the nearest tongs. He’s not going to toss anything tonight that involves pastas or pans. He’s taking the safe road because he wants everything to be perfect.

14. Add the rest of your cheese! Toss some more and then add salt and pepper as NEEDED!

15. You can serve it with parsley.

16. Now, go take a shower and change into some cleaner clothes.

17. Just be you and have fun, Spencer. Goodluck! :)

Spencer smiles as he puts the paper down and makes the finals touches to the pasta. He starts doing what was instructed and it surprisingly, ends up in the perfect texture. Just like the one he tasted when Rossi had a pasta night.

He was proud of himself as he takes it off the stove and makes sure that all the stoves are turned off. There was this report he read in 2018, that cooking and leaving the stove open was the leading cause of home fires.

He takes the food, puts it into a fancy tupperware (another thing he borrowed from JJ) and puts it in the microwave. He cleans up a little and stuffs the pans and pots to the dishwasher, because you are coming in his apartment even for a second.

He starts getting himself ready for the date with a shower. As the warm water glides through his body he thinks of how funny life could be.

Spencer first meets you in the library. He has not slept well in weeks so instead he opts to go to the library to get some reading done. But as soon as he sits in one of the (surprisingly) comfortable leather chairs, its as if sleep knocks him out. It wasn’t until the closing time that you wake him up and he thinks that you were an angel sent for him. This elicits a giggle from you.

“I am sorry, I am not an angel. I am just the librarian and we’ve been close for over an hour now. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You looked like you really needed that sleep.” Spencer immediately jumps to his feet as he apologizes profusely to the kind librarian, “Oh, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry. I was also reading so I didn’t mind the peace and quiet.”

That’s how Spencer meets you. He comes back a few days later after a case with coffee, croissant and an apology. You immediately become friends and thats how all of this started. Spencer finds himself falling in love with the kind, gorgeous, clever librarian faster than he expected.

Every week after that, Spencer comes to the library with pastries and coffees for his favourite librarian and every week, you welcome Spencer with a warm smile and a new book for him to read. He can read it in one sitting but he reads it in the slowest pace he could so it can last for a week.

Spencer comes out the shower and stares at his closet. Should he go casual or formal? Casual or formal? Its just dinner, he’s chill and casual is the way. He picks one of the few plaid shirts that he has and puts it on with a white shirt underneath. He tries to brush his hair, it sits for a moment before it starts curling again. He cringes but leaves it be.

Spencer proceeds to the kitchen to start packing the food into a wicker basket (that he also borrowed from JJ, he basically borrowed her whole kitchen). He packs the utensils in a table napkin that comes with the basket. The main course for the date was the carbonara, and the dessert was a tiramisu Penelope made.

He reaches over his sofa where the bouquet of paper flowers are. He made it a few nights ago with Penelope’s help. He stayed up to make more of it with old books he found in the BAU.

Because what kind of flowers is the best flowers for librarians? Origami flowers made with old book pages.

He shouldn’t be nervous. You’ve been friends for all the months that he didn’t have enough courage to ask you out. You’ve taken trips to old bookstores together for book hunting. This shouldn’t be different from your other trips.

The pitter patter of rain against his window takes him out of his thoughts.

“Shit! Is it raining!?” Spencer yelps, before opening the closed curtains. Beads of water runs down his windows and if its any other day he would love it. But not tonight, when he planned a rooftop date. He cringes as he thinks of the fairy lights hanged up and the table set up that is probably soaked now.

“Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think, Spencer, think.” Spencer thinks fast. He finds the extra table cloth that JJ gave him because “Just in case.” He reminds himself to buy her a bottle of wine as a thank you. He places it in his small kitchen table before taking the utensils out of the basket and placing it on the table in a fancy way.

Candles. Does he have candles? Spencer scrambles around his kitchen, like a chicken without its head, looking for candles and he finds it underneath the kitchen sink. He lights some of it up and props it into some glasses (he doesn’t have a candle holder he realizes after lighting it up).

With the lights dimmed down leaving the light from the window and the light from the candles, his dark apartment gives off a romantic, kind of comfortable, vibes. It was kind of perfect because with the books on his shelves and the lighting, it actually has the same vibes a library gives off.

He was ready now, bouquet of paper flowers in hand. He can’t believe how smooth things are going, minus the damn rain. Only thing that’s missing is you.

A knock comes to the door and he instantly opens it. There you were, hair a bit wet and messed up from the rain.

His future was bundled up in a cozy cardigan and a pair of jeans right in front of his eyes and he didn’t even know it.

“Hi.” Spencer smiles.

“Hi.” You smile.

“A little to the right. No. No. Too much right, now give it a little bit to the left.” You sigh, your hand under your chin, “No, no, baby, its crooked.”

“Love, can we do this later? The pancetta is going to burn.” Spencer laughs as he climbs down the ladder with the frame.

“But you said you’ll help me with putting up the frames!” You pout at him, Spencer chuckles before kissing your nose, “I know but you also asked for my famous carbonara and I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Hmmm. I still don’t think you can call it yours when its originally Dave’s.” You follow him to the kitchen, zigzagging through the boxes of books you’ve both barely opened.

“What he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” He winks at you before giving the pancetta and onions a stir.

“It already smells good, love.” You snake your arms through his waist and lean your head on his back. Spencer lets go of the spatula and spins around to face you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go unbox some of the books and I’ll call you when its cooked so we can fix the frames. Okay?” Spencer kisses the top of your head and lets you go.

You walk out of the kitchen to the hallway full of boxes full of books. You chuckle as you open the nearest box and its just full of chemistry books. You push it to the room where Luke, Derek and Spencer has built shelves for all of your books. An olive green couch sits in the corner beside the built in fireplace.

Hmmm. This is your home library but as a former librarian the dewey decimal is calling you. But then again, the books you and Spencer have doesn’t have classifications on them. You began unpacking the chemistry books and placing it on the shelf. You can hear the distinct hiss of the pan and Spencer humming Kodaline’s The One.

You push in another box from the hallway to the room and its another one of Spencer’s, this one full of philosophy books. You start unpacking it to the shelf below the chemistry books before stopping as you pull out a book that doesn't belong with the philosophy books. A smile graces your face as your hands glides unto it. It was the book Spencer bought for you on your first anniversary.

The Peter Pan cover is a bit tattered, it was an older edition he found in your favorite old bookstore. You open the book and Spencer’s messy writing greets you with nostalgia.

“We are most alive when we are in love. Thank you for making me feel alive everyday for the past year. Happy Anniversary, love. I live a full life as I love you fully.”

You smile at the book before hugging it to your chest. You sigh deeply as you looked around the room and how it felt so surreal to be in the new home you share with Spencer.

“Love, I am finish. Come meet me in the hallway!” You leave the book on the shelf as you hear Spencer calling you.

“Are you helping me with the frames?” You clap, excited to finally put up the frames. Spencer smiles as he sees you excited to put up the pictures.

“Yes, okay you need to tell me if they’re straight okay?” He instructs before climbing the ladder.

“To the right, just a bit. Oh! Perfect!” You scramble to reach for another frame as he comes down the ladder to move it, “Here! This one.” He climbs again and you instruct him with directions for the frame again.

After a few more frames, he finally comes down and looks at the frames you asked to be put up.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Spencer smiles down at you and gives your cheek a kiss as he wraps his hands around your waist, “It is. Thank you for framing them.”

The frames comes in different shapes and forms, the biggest one in the middle is the picture of your wedding day. Your wedding took place in a library you immediately fell in love with when looking for places to get married at.

In the picture, you were smiling, your head rested on Spencer's shoulder as he reads a Harry Potter book he found in the kids section. It was a candid moment, both of you running to the back of the shelves to get a moment to yourselves after the wedding and the photographer snapped it before leaving the two of you in peace.

Beside it are pictures with the team on the wedding day, some on thanksgiving, christmas, new year with the BAU team, some with your family, some with Diana and in the corner is a shadow box containing the paper bouquet that Spencer gave you on your first date, the same exact flowers that was in your hands as you walk down the aisle to him.

“So, how's the first six months of officially being a Reid-Y/L/N?” Spencer teases as he lets you go from the back hug to face you and you roll your eyes at him, “Oh very hard. They hear Reid and they immediately expect greatness.”

Spencer laughs, “Same as the last name Y/L/N.” This time your the one who laughs at his statement, “Uhhh. I am not the one with 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.”

“And I am not the one whose a New York Times best selling author.” Spencer laughs even more when he sees your nose crinkles, making his heart dance and swell in glee.

“Hey, let’s dance.” He takes your arms and leaves it on his shoulders as he wraps his arms on your waist.

“We don’t have music, you silly goofy boy.” Spencer rolls his eyes at the endearment used, “I’ll sing.” He hushes you down.

“You make my heart feel like it's summer when the rain is pouring down.” Spencer’s singing voice was soft and sweet in the edges. Most nights you lull him to sleep with your humming to keep the monsters at bay and some days, his better days, he’s the one who sings and these were the days you treasure the most.

“You make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong, that's how I know you are the one... That’s how I know you are the one.” He sways you to the gentle buzz of his voice. You close your eyes as he sings the same song he sings to your ears on the dance floor for you first dance as a married couple.

“When we are together, you make me feel like my mind is free and my dreams are reachable hmmm.” Spencer hums as he runs his hands on your back. Your head on his chest and your ear listening to the way his heart is beating for you.

“You know I never ever believed in love, I believed one day that you would come along and free me.” Spencer feels at ease as he sways and sings, knowing that he’ll have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

The song ends but you and Spencer continue to sway to the music of silence.

“Can you believe its been 4 years since our first date?” Spencer asks, in disbelief of how fast time is running when he’s with you. You pull away from his chest so you can face him. You find a small spark in Spencer’s eyes as he thinks fondly of the night.

“Really? 4 years since our first date got rained on and Penelope cried because we broke all her fairy lights?” Spencer laughs before protesting, “Hey! I paid for that!”

"4 years later and I still can't get enough of that damn carbonara." Spence cackles, like an evil villain, "Don't tell Rossi that I stole his recipe for my beautiful partner."

"4 years later and I am still completely in love with you." Spencer smiles as he leans down to place a small kiss on your temple.

"4 years since I almost completely lost my mind because I was so nervous about our date." You roll your eyes, "Love, our first date was perfect. We've had this debate how many times now?"

"19 times." Spencer answers and you pinch his nose before looking around the room that’s still full of unopened boxes, “See. We should probably eat lunch and unpack. Why do we even have so many boxes of books?”

“Honey, you were a librarian and you are a writer. I am a professor and FBI agent that can read 20,000 words per minute.” Spencer answers as he looks around the unpacked house.

You smile fondly at him before standing on your tiptoes a bit to reach him and give him a kiss and he immediately steadies you with his hands. Kissing you was intoxicating and Spencer loves every bit of it. You only pull away when the kiss finally takes away your breathe.

“I love you, Spence.” You smile as you hold his face in your hands, “I love you more, sweetheart.” He smiles at you as you untangle yourself from him.

“Let’s eat your famous carbonara and unpack the rest of our house. It doesn’t really feel like home when all we can see is boxes.” You giggle before dragging him to the kitchen, making Spencer sit on the island as you prepare the pasta he cooked. Spencer watches you as you sing and dance through the kitchen in one of his old cardigans.

He doesn’t say anything but you were wrong. Home is not four walls with unpacked boxes and hundreds of books.

Home was when you showed up bundled in a cardigan, wet from the rain for your first date with him and home is still you, four years later, bundled up in his old cardigans and singing songs that magically fills and heals the crevices of his heart.

the recipe i copied for the famous carbonara!

taglist (if you want to be added, please message me 🥰): @all-tings-diego @shemarmooresfedora @averyhotchner @samuel-de-champagne-problems @bingereid

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pemfrost · 3 years ago

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Prompts: Superhero Photographer Peter Parker au. (whether or not he has powers or someone else like ben riley or miles (or whoever else you like) is spiderman and peter is just his nurse/suit guy.) Could be spideydevil. Maybe people shipping spidey and peter if their the same. fanfics being made. Peter parker not getting paid enough for this. Just have fun with it. Matt's friends making fun of the photos of him. unspoken rule of you don't screw with Peter. Btw have you seen moon knight? I been watching it. It's amazing. (Sorry if I asked this already I'm not sure if I did or not.)

I took a few liberties with the prompt n.n"

Sorry this took so long! I'm dealing with some stuff, but this was a nice distraction :)

Yes! Moonknight has been my husband's favorite comic for years and he's so excited to have more merch and fan content now. I never really got into the comics, but enjoyed what I did read. The show has been fantastic so far, thoroughly enjoying it!

This is a rough draft, I'll post it to ao3 whenever I get around to cleaning it up n.n I do have a part two in mind, so hopefully I'll get time to write that soon.

Back in highschool Peter would take photos of himself as Spider-Man by setting up a camera with a timer. It was simple, but those early photos earned him some money, some respect, and most importantly some plausible deniability whenever someone started to suspect he may be Spider-Man. But, pictures only did so much as the years went on. They're easy to steal, to take credit for- hard to sell.

Harder to monetize.

And Peter needed money. Not a lot, but enough to get by. Between college and his time as Spider-Man, Peter didn't have much time for a part time job. Being a hero didn't exactly pay the bills unless you unmasked, made deals, sold toys- none of which Peter was keen on doing. Someone somewhere was getting rich off selling Spider-Man merch but it sure wasn't him.

"Oh, that's him!" A small group of students near the biology lab gawked at Peter before folding into their group to whisper excitedly against the painted cinder block wall.

Peter was still trying to get used to the new attention.

Selling photographs might not make much money nowadays, but videos sure did. With some clever editing he was able to 'interview' himself, complete with action shots of Spider-Man swinging onto the rooftop where Peter pretended to wait. The short segments got him enough clicks on YouTube and tiktok to make decent enough money. He wasn't going to be rich anytime soon -or ever- but it paid the bills. He just hadn't banked on becoming so well known as Peter Parker.

The whispers got worse with each video. As his video's hits began to be measured in the millions, Peter began to wonder if it was time to stop. Truth be told, if some of his friends had it their way he never would have started.

"Hey, Petey!" A guy he vaguely recognized from around campus threw an overly familiar arm around his shoulders. His blonde hair was buzzed short and he reeked of too-strong body spray. "Mind asking Spidey something for me next time? I just wanna know how he deals with sweat when it drips down his-"

"I'll see what I can do," Peter said as he squirmed out of the embrace and made a hasty retreat down the hall to his last class. He just needed to get through his next class and he'd be home free until Monday.

“Hey-Yo!” The guy’s friend called after him, slightly too loud in the crowded hall. “Are you guys a couple? Like, why does he let YOU have access?” A few other students nearby murmured their own versions of the question as Peter disappeared around a corner.

Peter felt his face heat up, clenching his jaw to ground himself. Had he really fucked up that bad? That people thought- Well, if it wasn’t so dangerous he would have found it hilarious.

Thankfully, no one else approached him directly during class, afterwards, or on his way to the subway. Instead of heading home, he ventured to Matt's apartment for some much needed advice.

While M.J. would be the most obvious choice of friend to turn to for advice on such matters, Peter was taking any excuse he could muster to spend more time with Matt. He met Matt two years ago while Peter was a sophomore and they instantly hit it off. Two nerds who needed companionship while they studied, kindred spirits in more ways than they knew. They stayed in touch even when Matt started law school and then barely had time for much more than study sessions over takeout. Over the years their friendship brought them closer together, and now teetered on the edge of something more. Peter could feel it. Yet, neither of them gave voice or action to the desire which echoed in every lingering touch and longing gaze.

Bringing up the videos would lead to an interesting discussion. Peter would need to dance around the fact that he, Peter Parker, was, in fact, Spider-Ma. Despite their close friendship, Matt was not privy to such a personal detail of Peter’s life and he was desperate to keep it that way.

The walk from the subway to Matt’s apartment gave Peter plenty of time to sort his thoughts and come up with a rudimentary solution to his predicament. As he stepped off the elevator, Peter heard Matt’s roommate’s voice from down the hall.

“Well, then maybe you should tell him instead of being an overprotective baby about it!” Foggy shouted into the apartment before slamming the door behind himself. He slung a heavy looking messenger bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the elevator as Peter stepped off.

“Ah, hey Foggy!” Peter greeted, keeping his foot in the door to hold the elevator.

“Peter.” Foggy nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “Any new Spidey videos?”

Peter groaned. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Foggy just laughed as the elevator doors closed.

Peter knocked slightly on Matt’s door as he turned the knob, correctly assuming it was unlocked. “Hey, Matt! Thought I’d swing over and study for my microbiology test.” He waited for Matt’s grunt of acknowledgement from the couch before he fully stepped into the familiar apartment.

Matt’s own classwork was splayed across the coffee table, thick law reference books at either end and a dozen or so individual documents organized in the middle. “You’re welcome to the chair. I need this space for a case study.” Matt leaned back, stretching his neck.

“Ah, I won’t distract you then.” He tossed his bag next to the oversized chair across from the couch. “What was Foggy yelling about?”

Matt stiffened slightly before shrugging, “Nothing. Why?” His nose crinkled as he raised a lip, “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing, really. Something about an overprotective baby? It’s not important, we should study.” He made a show of loudly pulling out his laptop.

They studied in silence for a while before Matt dropped one of his books to the table with a loud thud and blurted out, “You’re going to get yourself hurt!”

“Uh…”

“These… videos. Getting that close to a hero like that is going to make you a target. I warned you the first time you showed your face on them! It was fine when it was just your voice- but Peter! Spider-Man has enemies. Enemies who would use you to get to him.”

“Uh…” Peter blinked, not sure what to make of Matt’s outburst. “Why would some baddy want anything to do with some amature video guy like me? It’s not like they target M.J. anytime she interviews an avenger.”

“M.J. isn’t friends with them!”

“Who said I’m friends with Spider-Man?”

“Everyone! Some are saying you’re dating him- why else would you have such access to him?”

“I-” Huh, Peter hadn’t really thought about the optics before the comments made that morning. He was hoping to bring it up more eloquently, but Matt did give him the perfect opportunity to solicit advice. “People will always spread rumors, founded or not. How do I get them to stop… without actually stopping?”

Matt recoiled. “As your future lawyer, I advise you to stop. The rumors will never stop, and you’ll always be a target. You could be liable for any legal issues Spider-Man may cause if you knowingly withhold information. You- you could be compelled to reveal his identity.”

“But-”

Matt held up a hand. “End of discussion. I don’t want to know anymore.” He shifted his body to angle slightly away from Peter.

“Geeze. This is the worst ‘I told you so’ you’ve ever given me. What gives?” Peter crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair. He knew Matt couldn’t see him pout, but he stuck out his bottom lip for good measure.

“I need to study this case.” Matt squared his shoulders back and repositioned himself, gliding a finger over the document closest to him.

Peter scoffed, “Let’s pretend that you don’t have that basically memorized already. It won’t hurt you to take a five minute break and talk to me.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Matt’s tone was firm. “Didn’t you say you came to study?”

“I came to ask you for advice, actually.” Peter shoved his laptop back into his bag. “I’ll leave you to your case study, then.”

“You don’t need to go.” Matt tilted his head, the closest to an apology Peter could expect while the other man was so agitated.

Peter hesitated. He didn’t want to be a burden, or a distraction. It probably had been a bad idea to ask Matt for advice anyway, he’d voiced his objection back when he was still just selling photos.

Matt sighed, visibly deflating. “I don’t have any advice to give you, Pete. At least none I haven't already given.”

“I know. I guess I should ask someone else.” He sat on the edge of his seat, still unsure if he should stay or go. “I don’t want to stop, Matt. I make good enough money from the ad revenue alone on these videos.”

“Then the rumors will continue as well. As will the comments and the jokes.”

Peter winced. “People will forget. Eventually."

"Villains won't. Will your boyfriend be able to guarantee your safety?" There was a sour note in Matt's voice.

Did Matt think… "That's not-" He stopped himself. What could he say to make Matt believe him? Besides the truth?

Matt stood and motioned towards the door. "Perhaps it would be best if we study independently."

Peter's mind raced. He didn't want to leave, especially not when Matt seemed so aggravated with him. "Matt, I-"

"Peter, please."

And what could Peter do except leave? Confess? Stop the endless dancing and tell Matt he was falling in love with him? Or, throw all his cards on the table and give Matt the complete truth?

Peter hung his head. Neither. He could do neither. For all the same reasons Matt wanted him to stop his films. He would never let Matt become a target because of him. So, without any other options, Peter grabbed his bag and shuffled out the door.

Thanks for reading ❤️

#spideydevil #spiderdevil #requests #pem writes

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0verthinking1t · 2 years ago

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BEHOLD, MY NEURODIVERGENT BRETHREN. I GIVE YOU.... THE TEASPOON. aka the tsp. You can TL;DR and just read the part with the colors (from Spoons to Short Rests) if you so choose 😊

Ok let me explain. I'm ADHD and depressed, and struggle a lot with motivation and executive dysfunction. Sometimes, when I'm in "rest and recover" mode after a long work week or a couple of days with A Lot Going On, my brain forgets to turn on the "things make dopamine" function, and I end up spending most of the day chillin in bed, snacking, and binging Netflix. Not a problem, initially, but when I have my whole week scheduled with work, social stuff, and errands, and I only have a single day to do things like cleaning the apartment, this can be very inconvenient. I have trouble making myself do things I don't want to, and on top of that, I'm already starting at a disadvantage because nothing around me is stimulating enough to get me moving. Facebook: boring, games: boring, checking email: boring, snack time: boring — I can't bribe myself into being productive because nothing is functioning as a bargaining chip. So what do?

I write lists. I plan things. Organizing ideas is my thing; I would gladly write checklists for every item on my checklist and then reorganize every checkbox 5 times rather than actually complete and check off any of the items on the list. So I sat down to divide up my tasks for today in hopes that it would get the juices flowing a bit, and ended up coming up with a system to make things easier to sustain throughout the day. It ended up working really well for me, so I want to share this new system in case anyone else can find use for it.

Spoons: ok, a lot of us know the term Spoons, aka spell slots, energy, etc. It's a way of quantifying the finite amount of energy and time you can put into doing things until your mental/physical health is exhausted. For some folks, the number of Spoons you have resets after a night of sleep. For some, it takes some more intentional self care and maintenance time, like a day off for a bath and a movie marathon. Example: showering takes 1 spoon, washing the dishes takes 3, and going to the bank takes 6. I only have 8 spoons today, so I can shower and go to the bank, but the dishes will have to wait. Maybe I can cook for dinner or draw something with the spoon I'll have left over :3

Tsps: tsp ("tisp") is short for teaspoon. Tsps are to spoons as steps are to whole tasks; cleaning the kitchen is a task that can be broken down into steps, and each step can be assigned a value of tsps. It's a scale that rates the effort required to complete a step, from 1 to 10. Tsps are rechargable with a Short Rest. Example: I have to clean the kitchen. Wiping down the surfaces only rates at 1 tsp, washing the dishes comes in at 4 tsps, and sweeping and mopping takes 5 tsps. Taking the trash and recycling out rates at 10 tsps, tho, so cleaning the kitchen has a Spoons level of 20 tsps, or 2 spoons.

Short Rest: I stole this term from D&D 😛 a short rest is a little treat or activity break that stimulates the happy chemicals and refills your tsps. Short Rests must be measured in set increments of either time or a number of something, but you're allowed to schedule multiple Short Rest increments in a row for bigger tasks. Measurement of a Short Rest doesn't have to include the time it takes to check social media, reply to texts, etc., as long as you're only doing a minute or two of those on either end of your activity. Example: today, my Short Rest is working on my cross stitch project. I tend to hyperfocus when I cross stitch, so I'll set a timer and use increments of 5 minutes. This task takes 6 steps to complete, so after every 2 steps, I'll stop, check that conversation I was having with a friend, and take 1 short rest. When the whole task is complete, I'll celebrate with a Short Rest x 2 and move on to the next one.

Basically, it's a system of periodically rewarding yourself in a planned out way, that makes that reward system even more tangible. Keeping the Short Rest intervals small and doubling them up for more important points of your schedule can help sustain your dopamine level throughout the day while still keeping you on track; being good to yourself and allowing time outside of the Short Rest increment for things like phone, or retrieving the snack you treat yourself to, or coming to a stopping point so you can set your activity down properly keeps the Short Rest from feeling rushed or self-defeating. Tsps help you prioritize things and identify specifically what parts of a task you're having trouble motivating for, and can help map out where you'll need to recharge to keep up your energy.

Feel free to do with this idea as you wish. Steal all of it, some of it, or mold it into something that works better for you. I just hope it helps some other Neurodivergent friends out there as much as it helps me. ❤️

#adhd #depression #nerodivergent #mental illness #mental disability #executive dysfunction #motivation #system #organization #to do lists #spoons #spell slots #self care #i hope this helps #life hacks #goal setting

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mmvalentine · 3 years ago

Note

Can I please get a moonstone palace bathtub smut for feysand???

Pleaseeeeeee

Honey I'm sorry this took me soooo long, this was actually the last one on my list before I decided to cut off my prompt intake so I did always mean to write it I've just not been having as much motivation lately! But yes, let's do this, let's get SOAPY!

Moonshine

Rhys was a little drunk.

Feyre had been at the Summer Court with Amren all day, up to their necks in meetings. Rhys had been doing the same at the day court and Helion conducted his official court business... differently. And so it was that Rhys got home just after Feyre, rather worse for wear.

"Feyre!" he called, slurring a little.

"In here," she called back, in the middle of folding some clothes away. Rhys poked his head round the door.

"Oh," he said. "There you are."

"In... our room? Yes, where else would I be?"

Rhys sighed. "I couldn't remember which house I was supposed to be at. I went to the house by the river, but it's all covered up."

"Yes," Feyre agreed, her lips twitching. "Renovations, remember?"

"So then I went to the House of the Wind," Rhys continued. "But Cassian and Nesta were there and kicked me out, so I went to the townhouse, and then remembered that Nyx lives there now- did you know our son is an adult who lives alone?"

"I did know that."

"So then I went to the cabin but you weren't there either... and here you are in the moonshine palace." He shook his head, and corrected himself. "The moonstone palace. Feyre we have so many houses."

"We do," Feyre smiled. "And you have had so much to drink. Moonshine indeed."

"Yes, well, you know Helion's rules. You have to do a shot every time you raise a new point. Or win a point. Or concede a point. Next time, I'm going to see Tarquin and you can deal with Helion."

"Tarquin doesn't like you, and you know I can't get through the agenda with Helion's rules."

Rhys looked outraged for a second. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am half the size of Helion. Maybe less."

"No, why doesn't Tarquin like me? Everybody likes me."

"Darling I have a more pressing question."

"Yes, what is it?"

"What... is all over you?"

Rhys looked down at himself, and appeared to think about it for a second. "It's marmalade," he said eventually.

"It's what?"

"A delegate from the human realm brought it."

"Okay," Feyre said slowly. "But why is it all over you?"

"You know, I have no idea."

"And how did you get it on your wings?"

Rhys turned his head quickly. "My wings are out?"

Feyre laughed. "Okay, never mind. Let's just get you cleaned up and into bed."

Rhys' expression shifted then, and bewilderment became something much more wicked.

"You know," he said, "the marmalade is quite delicious. You should give it a try. You could clean me off with your tongue."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and pushed her mate toward the large bathtub. Around the bathroom, candles flickered to life of their own accord.

"Or I could just clean you off with a sponge like a regular fae."

"Oh so you are going to be doing the cleaning," Rhys said, his eyes lighting. And with that, his orange stained suit disappeared and he pulled her against his naked chest.

Feyre landed with her hands on his skin, and her breath caught at the sudden movement. She made to push him away, but when she looked up at his face Rhys was looking at her with an intensity she did not think he was capable of in his inebriated state.

"You're joining me, yes?" Rhys purred, and already his hands were pulling at the fastenings behind her back.

"Well I-"

"Of course you are," and then faster than she expected he had the dress falling around her feet, and his teeth on her left nipple.

"Woah, okay, down boy," she struggled out. "You have sticky stuff in your hair."

"Marmalade," Rhys reminded her.

"Right." She led Rhys to the tub, and they both climbed in. Feyre bundled her hair on top of her head while Rhys located the aforementioned sponge, and handed it to her. He waved his hand and the tub filled with bubbles, and beneath them Rhys pulled Feyre's legs to circle around his waist. She slid along the smooth bottom of the tub, and when she reached Rhys she found him suddenly hard between her legs.

Her eyes went wide, but she did not acknowledge it. Instead, plunged the sponge into the water and then rubbed it over Rhys' chest and neck where the sticky substance had gotten under his shirt. Rhys, his hands idle, scooped hot water up Feyre's back and shoulders, and let his fingertips follow the line of her spine.

"We haven't had a bath together in ages," he said softly, eyes on her ear where his thumb stroked, as his palm rested against the side of her throat.

"Well," Feyre said, trying to concentrate on cleaning him up, "it's not often you're in need of such thorough cleaning."

Rhys reached forward and pulled Feyre up onto his lap, his cock now pressing insistently against her.

"Maybe I should get dirty more often then," he murmured, and then Feyre was avoiding his gaze as she dunked the sponge again and used it to clean the stuff out of his hair. A sweet orange smell was drifting through the steam as she went.

"You know you don't have to go to such extreme measures for us to spend time together," Feyre said, and then swiped the soapy sponge all the way down one of Rhys' wings.

Rhys shuddered violently in shock and pleasure as Feyre collected more water and rubbed down his other wing.

"Ohhh darling," he groaned. "Do that again."

Feyre bit back a smile and moved the sponge in circles, peering over Rhys' shoulder and carefully wiping away all the marks on the leathery surface. Rhys' hands had left her back and were now gripping the edges of the tub. His forehead was leaning against her chest, and she made sure to get her sponge into the curves of his joints, and around the base of his wing's talon. She lifted a wing back to get the underside, and pretended to not notice the way Rhys' cock twitched beneath her as she wiped rough strokes down the inside edge.

Rhys groaned again, and put his teeth in her shoulder. Feyre was fairly satisfied that she had gotten the muck off him, and was now squeezing water over him to clear the suds off.

"Is that better?" she crooned.

"Mmm it's the most exquisite torture," Rhys replied, and started to move her hips with his hands so that she was sliding up and down in his lap while she swirled more hot water over his wings. His motion stuttered when she ran the sponge over a particularly sensitive spot, and then he had his arms tight around her and then he had his mouth on hers and was leaning forward to kiss her harder.

Feyre dropped the sponge and tangled her hands in his hair. She had always loved how he looked with his hair wet and slicked back. Rhys kissed her greedily, and she had to admit she was also quite fond of fooling around when Rhys was tipsy. There was just something a little looser, a little messy but sexy about him when he was handsy-drunk, and even though Feyre hadn't been drinking, the intoxication seemed to be contagious.

Feyre drank the taste of moonshine off Rhys' lips and got lost in the tingling sensation where his fingers gripped her. And then he lifted her hips and brought her right down on his cock under the water.

It should be so familiar by now. A hundred years together, and one might think this wouldn't surprise Feyre anymore. But every time, every single time the pleasure of Rhys inside her was almost too much to bear. Feyre cried out and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, hanging on tightly as he started to bounce her in his lap.

"Fuuuck Feyre, fuck," Rhys groaned, as his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his hips tilted up to get deeper inside her. His eyes closed but his hands clutched tighter, and then Feyre took a hold of the sides of the tub to get leverage as they quickened their pace. "Gods you could kill a male fucking like this."

Rhys sat up suddenly, water sloshing noisily as closed his mouth over one of her breasts. His hand came up to massage the other, and his free hand squeezed her backside. Feyre moaned as his teeth touched her nipple, and changed her motion so that she was grinding into his lap instead of moving up and down. Rhys' tongue flicked over her peaked nipple and it seemed to echo in her clit, over and over until she was clawing at his neck and pushing back her orgasm, trying to stretch the feeling out.

Rhys saw it coming, dragged her mouth back to his and then kissed her with her tongue sucked into his mouth as he got his hands back on her hips and slammed into her exactly how he wanted it and not letting her hold anything back. And then she was screaming as she climaxed, head tipped back and sweat and steam and bubbles plastering the stray strands to her face as she came apart in the bathtub. Rhys was not far behind, and Feyre reveled in the unguarded, unrestrained sounds that he made, too.

When they had stopped moving, they sat for minutes just curled together like that. Eventually, Rhys yawned and Feyre kissed his head before whispering "Let's go to bed."

"I'll just sleep here," Rhys mumbled.

"You can't sleep in the bathtub," Feyre argued.

"Sure I can," Rhys said. "I'm doing it right now."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and disentangled herself from Rhys' arms. He growled in protest, but she managed to climb out of the tub and wrap a towel around herself.

"Alright your turn, come on."

Rhys slid down in the bath.

"Come on you big baby." Feyre reached in and hauled her giant, heavy mate out of the water with some difficulty, and decided it would be easier to magic him dry.

Rhys practically fell into bed and was asleep within seconds- but not before he managed to grab a hold of Feyre, pull her tight into his body, and kiss the back of her neck while his arms wound round her middle.

"Good night my love," Feyre said quietly, and then used magic again to send their clothes to the laundry and snuff the candles out, since once Rhys was unconscious and wrapped around her like this, there was no getting up until morning.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27

#feysand #feysand fic #smut #mine #asks #prompt fill

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

take me out (on a date)

Hange decides to set Levi up on some dates.

It doesn't go as well as she hopes.

"Levi!"

Hange bursts into his office, not waiting for an invitation to come in. Levi wouldn't have given it to her, but when Hange has ever listened to him?

The door bangs thunderously as she throws it closed, and then she moves further into the room, grabbing a chair and twisting it backwards to sit down. The grin on her face is positively mental, and at the back of his mind Levi wonders what exactly is wrong with him, because that smile doesn't faze him in slightest.

"I'm working, four-eyes," he grumbles, closing a tab with a video analysis of some movie he had never seen. "I don't have time for your shit."

"You'll want to hear it, Levi!" her voice is several octaves higher than Levi can tolerate, but Hange promptly ignores his angry scowl. "It will change your life!"

Last time Hange decided to change his life, his eyebrows got bleached.

Understandably, he isn't looking forward to another life changing experience, especially if it'll orchestrated by Hange.

But she doesn't seem to care if he's looking forward to it or not. She shoots up, almost sending poor chair tumbling to the floor, and starts pacing around the room.

"So! I must admit this thought had come to me completely out of sudden. I was in the middle of breakfast, you see, or, no- Wait! I was talking to Nifa! Or watching that new tv-show, you know the one where—"

"Four-eyes," Levi grits when his head starts spinning after watching her move back and forth across the room. "Get to the fucking point."

Hange stops for a second, to flash him an amused smile. "A little impatient, are we? I can understand it, yes... After all, what I'm offering—"

"Four-eyes!"

"Alright, alright!" Hange throws her hands into the air and resumes her pacing. Absentmindedly, Levi wonders how much coffee she has already consumed this morning.

"I guess, what I was doing doesn't really matter. What matters is what I've been thinking about. And I've been thinking about you."

Oh. This gets Levi's attention. It grips it tightly and doesn't let go. Here he thought Hange was going on about another experiment of hers or some other, equally annoying shit, but she has been thinking about him... Levi straightens his back and leans in, watching Hange more intently now.

"So I started thinking about you and it got me thinking, you know, about other people and stuff. And I know what you're going to say!" she furrows her eyebrows in expression Levi guesses should resemble his. Hange does a very poor job, though. He is almost sure he doesn't look that ridiculous. "I'm not people's person, four-eyes, I don't care about them," she says in as low voice as she can manage.

Levi is inclined to agree. He's not a people's person. He is however, a person's person. And his person is currently measuring his office with quick, jerky steps.

"But I think you're a bit wrong. Maybe, you don't like other people, but there are people who like you, so I thought, well, everyone deserve love, and you deserve it above everyone else, because you're so kind and very sweet, and really, really handsome, so I thought, well..." Hange turns to look at him, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Levi takes a sharp breath. This is it, he realizes. Hange is going to confess to him, a completely not pathetic crush that he was harboring for almost a decade now is finally going to be reciprocated.

His own office isn't the place he thought it was going to happen, but it's fine, he can work with that. He's having feelings for the craziest person he knows, so, really, a little bit of oddity is more than expected.

Levi is already thinking how should he answer that confession - should he tell Hange he feels the same or would a simple kiss suffice, when Hange moves to his desk. She places her hands onto the wooden surface and looms over him with a wide, excited smile. Levi's lips pull in a smile of his own.

"That's why, Levi," she says. "I will help you to find your love! Or, well," Hange adds, while Levi is too busy having a goddamn stroke because why was he, oh why, was he so naive in thinking that Hange would act normal for once? That she would stop being so oblivious and dumb? That she would clean those stupid glasses of hers and finally see what she's doing to him? But Hange doesn't see, even now, she's too blinded by her new, thrilling idea to notice his disappointed, fallen face. "If that doesn't work, at least, it’ll help you to get laid! That stick up your ass, it got so deep, I don't think it's healthy."

Hange starts laughing, too amused by her own stupid joke, and Levi thinks, if that's who you've fallen for? Then you've fallen so low, Levi...

But what can he do? He's fallen and he doesn't think he will be able to get up.

But with a help of someone else, with a strong, steady hand he'll be able to get up from the bottom he's currently buried at.

The idea is as stupid as Hange is, and it's as hopeless as his crush on her, but what he has to lose now?

***

That's how he finds himself in a small Chinese restaurant with Hange sitting across from him. He'd enjoy his evening, he'd entertain the idea that it almost looks like a date, if Hange wasn't wearing such serious expression, her eyes scanning him up and down as though he's a new mouse she decides to experiment at.

"Alright," she declares, turning around to get her backpack. She pulls out a notebook, and with a sense of growing dread, Levi sees her open it at the page that is already full with notes.

"After our little conversation, I asked around a bit..." she mutters, not looking up from a notebook. "I found a couple of friends who are single, but let's start with someone we both know for now..."

The feeling of dread is almost overwhelming now, because Levi is sure what will follow is going to be one of the worst conversations in his life.

"So! Let's start, shall we?" she grips the pen in her fingers tightly and turns the entirety of her attention to him. "What do you think about Mike?"

Levi chokes on a soup he was eating.

"What the fuck, four-eyes?" he hisses. "He's huge!"

Hange pouts. "You don't have to take it straight to bed, you know…"

His face burns and, as the images of him and that giant together enters his mind, Levi wants nothing more than to gag. He kicks Hange under the table in retaliation, making her yelp and rub her ankle.

"He's twice my height, you perverted dipshit. I would look like a brat next to him."

"Not one for daddy's kink, eh?" Hange mutters with that insufferable grin of hers, and Levi kicks her again. "Fine, fine, could have just said no. Mike was actually weirded out by my offer too, I just asked to see if he's your type or not."

"He's not," Levi grits, furious, because his type is sitting right across him in ridiculous oversized shirt and dirty glasses. How low has he fallen...

"I guess I can cross Erwin out as well. Alright!" Hange chirps. "What about Moblit?"

At that, Levi's mood almost lifts. It's good to know his feelings are not the only ones that completely go over Hange's head.

He can just imagine it too, both of them - he and Moblit - getting drunk in some shitty bar, united by their shared infatuation with irritating, absurdly oblivious four-eyed weirdo.

The image conjured by his mind is so pathetic, it almost sends him into a feat of self-pity.

"No," he tells Hange curtly, and she crosses another name.

"Alright, what about Gelgar?"

"He's a drunkard. Pass."

"Nanaba?"

"I've known her since childhood, she’s like a sister. Pass."

"Lynn?"

He doesn't remember who the fuck Lynn is, and so hesitates to give an answer. Hange takes it a sign of agreement, and giggles, writing something down in the notebook. "Got it... What about Gunter?"

"He's my subordinate," Levi reminds.

"And engaged," Hange winks. "But that wasn't what stopped you? Ah, you're naughty one, Ackerman."

And then, to his horror, Hange adds another note.

"And, last but not the least... What do you think about Nifa?"

"Um..."

"So another hit, eh?" Hange smiles so earnestly and brightly, Levi can't just find it in himself to disappoint her.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Hange winks again, closing the noteboor. "I'll analyze the data and set you up on a perfect date. Don't worry, Levi," Hange leans over the small table and covers his hand with hers. You've got to be kidding me, Levi thinks furiously, as his heart starts doing lambada in his ribcage. "I'll find someone you would like."

Look in the mirror, idiot, Levi wants to say, but lets out only a short annoyed grunt.

***

The next day, Erwin and Mike join him at lunch.

"Heard Hange decided to set you up on some dates," Erwin says, his head tilted and eyes curious.

Levi takes a mouthful of salad he brought from home, and nods.

"It's tough, man," Mike remarks.

"Yeah," Levi agrees, because, really, what else is there to say?

"It's interesting," Erwin declares, intrigued like he's reading about some obscure phenomenon or watches a discovery channel, and not observes the confusing relationship between two of his friends. "Something good may come out of it. Come, Mike," he stands up and Mike follows. "There is an urgent matter we need to discuss."

"Ah," Mike grins rather enigmatically. He shots Levi a sly look. "Don't let me down, Levi," he salutes him and then both of them are gone.

Levi's lunch is peaceful and uneventful for another minute.

And then Hange shows up and his chances at peace and quiet are promptly thrown out of the window.

***

The first person Hange sets him up with is Lynn. Levi still doesn't remember her, but decides to just roll with it. He knows her name and Hange had vaguely described her in the midst of her gushing and her reassurances that Levi would like her so much.

On the night of the supposed date, however, Hange shuffles inside his apartment, completely crestfallen. Levi entertains a thought - maybe, Hange had realized what a mistake she's doing, but then she falls on his coach, hand over face, and announces, "Lynn canceled your date. Apparently she didn't really know who you are," well, that makes two of them. "And today she saw you and she said you're not really her type," she sniffles, mumbling, "I'm so sorry, Levi..."

"It's fine," he says, and really, it is. He's actually relieved that the date is no longer happening.

Hange has a different opinion, of course.

"But Levi! I ruined your evening! You got all dressed up and now I've ruined it all." Hange shoots up to her feet, her face determined. "I'll make it better," she vows. "C'mon," she tugs at his arm. "I'll take you to the movies!"

*** Evening with Hange is so much better than a date with some Lynn could ever be.

They go to the dinner, eat horrible, greasy fries and down it all with disgustingly sweet milkshakes. They head to the movies next and Hange picks some dumb, action movie that Levi hates and she loves.

It’s quite boring, that movie, so Levi entertains himself by keeping his hand in a popcorn bucket, waiting for his and Hange's fingers to brush.

His heart races every time they do.

It’s almost a perfect evening, the only grievance Levi has is that the movie ends before he could throw his arm over Hange's shoulders.

But this little shortcoming is all but forgotten, when Hange offers to walk him home and then wraps her jacket over him.

Levi thinks about kissing her, about standing on his tiptoes and pressing his lips to her, when Hange declares, rather happily, "I found you another date, Levi! This one will show up, don't you worry!"

And the she bounces away, crushing all of his hopes and dreams.

***

His first real date is a man Hange describes as her university friend.

"Onyakopon is great!" she says. "He is getting his master's degree in aerodynamics and he's so funny! Handsome, too!"

"That's why you're undressing me right now?" Levi points out to her hands that pop open one, then another button on his shirt. Not that he minds, really, he wouldn't say no to Hange undressing him, but not before he has to go on a date with another person.

"You dress like an old man, Levi," she shakes her head, smoothing down the fine fabric. "You need to show them you're not just pretty face, but a rocking bod as well!"

Levi's face catches fire as Hange winks at him, and not for the first time, he wonders why the hell Hange has come up with this whole setting him up with someone shit, if she thinks he looks hot. Is his personality that repulsive to her? But then why she constantly hangs out with him?

Sometimes Hange is as easy to read as a children's book. And sometimes he can't understand her at all.

"Go get him, tiger!" she ruffles his hair and wishes him luck.

Sighing, Levi leaves his apartment.

***

At first, everything is awkward.

Onyakopon asks him questions - what is he doing for a living, what are his hobbies, and Levi gives him short, concrete answers, adding a weak "and you?".

Things pick up after Levi asks what Onyakopon is studying, and the evening is saved from being a complete disaster, when Onyakopon launches into a tale of why he loves aerodynamics so much.

He's handsome, Hange wasn't wrong with that. And he's passionate - his eyes are burning and his hands are flying around as he explains to Levi one concept or the other. Levi understands why Hange is friends with him, they're united by love for knowledge, although Onyakopon is lacking all of Hange's eccentricities.

The conversation shifts after Onyakopon asks him how he knows Hange.

"Co-workers," Levi mumbles, and adds a reluctant, "And you?"

Onyakopon's face breaks into a smile that is even brighter than the one he was sporting while talking about his studies. He starts talking about his and Hange's time in college, how much fun they were having in the lab, and Levi realizes that Onyakopon is yet another member of the pitiful I have a crush on Hange Zoe club and yet another victim of her obliviousness.

"Sorry," Onyakopon chuckles, hand on his neck. "I've got... carried away."

"No problem," Levi answers. "I understand."

"Hange is really one of a kind, right?"

"Unfortunately," Levi says, and both of them share a long, knowing look.

Onyakopon, all in all, isn't that bad. But when they say their goodbyes, there is no promise of another date. There is not even a vague "let's do this again sometime". But if Levi would ever find himself in too deep, when his stupid crush would make him go nearly insane, he knows just the guy to call and get drunk at a shitty bar. Onyakopon would be a great addition to Levi's and Moblit's pity party.

***

Hange is saddened when he tells her that there won't be a second date, but she is not yet ready to give up.

So she sets him up with a person who is very different from Onyakopon. Hange must have forgotten about his rule of no giant blondes because it's the perfect description of Yelena, who is, well, a giant blonde. She also looks like a psycho and even Hange warns him to be more careful with that one.

Ah, well. At least, she isn't in love with Hange. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Hange dated my ex," Yelena explains, skipping hellos, how are yous and other pleasantries. She is too straightforward even for Levi. She’s also incredibly intense. And not in an inspiring way like Erwin is or charming way how Hange is. Yelena is intense in a scary, uncomfortable way. Like a serial killer. "Now I want to date hers."

"I'm not Hange's ex," Levi frowns, wondering where Hange had found that weirdo. "What kind of person sets their ex up on a date?" he adds, feeling that it should be voiced out.

"I don't know," Yelena shrugs. "Probably the one who doesn't really care about that sort of thing. So you're not her ex?" she asks once again.

"No."

"Oh, alright. Good evening then," she raises up from a table, towering over Levi. "Fist steak here is really delicious," she says. "You should try it."

And then she is gone.

Levi stays and orders a steak. It really is good.

Just as he finishes it, he texts Hange,

this one was a psycho. she left after first five minutes

Hange replies with a crying emoji and vows to do better.

***

His next date is with Nifa, and somehow, probably because they already know each other, this date is the most enjoyable yet.

Nifa feeds him gossips about each member of their office, and some of them are actually funny enough to get a chuckle out of him. And when she tells him about that time when Erwin got his pants ripped right at his ass and Nifa walked in on Mike trying to sew them together, Levi loses it to the point of choking on his drink.

When he walks Nifa home, she gives him a tight hug.

"I had so much fun today..." she says, fumbling with the straps of her bag.

"But?" Levi softly prompts.

"But I actually agreed to this date because Hange had asked me. You see we have this little thing with Moblit..."

Ah. So even Moblit is moving on? Lucky bastard.

"I wish you the best then," he murmurs.

"Thank you," Nifa raises on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "And Levi? Hange will get around."

He doubts she will, but he’s thankful for the kind words all the same.

***

What follows after that is the worst date of Levi's life.

Zeke is the guy Hange dated in college. The relationship lasted for no more than two weeks, yet Zeke seems immensely proud of his little achievement, mentioning it at every opportunity.

If that wasn't irritating enough, Zeke turns out to be arrogant, pompous and sneering jerk.

Levi accidentally pours his wine at Zeke's white shirt, and Zeke retaliates by kicking Levi's sheen when he goes to the bathroom, almost sending him face-first into the restaurant's carpet floor.

This almost leads to a fistfight that quickly gets resolved by Hange who appears out of nowhere. She calls Zeke a moron and sends him home. She turns to Levi then, apologizing for Zeke and promises to make it up to him. Levi doesn't really need it, just watching Zeke get scolded like that was more than enough to right any grievance he could have had, but then Hange offers to order takeout and watch movie at her place, and Levi thinks he's allowed to feel a little slighted.

The evening ends with Hange fast asleep on a couch and tucked into his side, and Levi wonders if he should agree to another date with Zeke, just so Hange could make it up to him again.

***

"She's cute, isn't she?" Hange shows him a picture of dark-haired, smiling woman, and Levi nods, absentmindedly. The woman is objectively pretty, but her appearance stirs up nothing inside him. "It's Pieck, she's great! Do you like her?"

"She's fine," he mutters, his attention more on the papers in front of him than on that Pieck and their upcoming date. The name is vaguely familiar, but Levi puts that thought aside, deciding to tackle it some other time.

"Then I'll tell her you're free on Saturday!" Hange announces and after swiftly ruffling his hair, she's out of the office, as spontaneously as she came.

*** Pieck Finger is even prettier in person. She has long dark hair and deep big eyes. She uses a walking stick and she's dressed in a colorful sundress.

They're slowly making their way through a museum, and Pieck quietly tells him about different parts of exhibition.

They've walked through two rooms, when Pieck apologizes and asks if they can sit down for a while. Levi leads her to the nearest bench and Pieck shoots him a grateful smile before sitting down.

"Pieck," she offers him her hand. "Hange's ex."

Ah, so that's how he knows her name.

Levi takes her hand in his, squeezing it just a little too tight. He doesn't know Pieck, never talked to her before their date, but she's Hange's ex. Levi can't help but dislike her just for that.

"Levi," he answers, letting go of her hand.

"Oh, I know," Pieck grins, whipping her hair. "Hange told me about you. A lot."

"Oh, right. Before our date."

Pieck chuckles at that, and then turns to the painting in front of them.

"Are you an artist?" Levi asks, taking note of the way her eyes trace every bit of the painting.

"Not really," she says. "But coming here calms me down. Do you have something like that, Levi? Something that calms you down?"

Cleaning, he wants to say. A good cup of tea, he wants to add. But then he remembers his last date, the hot rage he felt just by looking at Zeke. Tea didn't help him then. Neither did cleaning. It was Hange who came and conquered the storm inside him.

The revelation shouldn't be a revelation at all, he knows Hange for a decade now, he also knows just how important she is to him. Yet this discovery still gives him a pause, and it takes him some time to come back to his senses.

"Hange is something else, isn't she?" Pieck's gentle voice brings him back to reality. "She's like... an exquisite painting. She has the same uncanny ability to just draw people in."

Levi doesn't quite know what to say to this, but Pieck doesn't seem to expect an answer.

"But like some paintings, she can be really chaotic. She's too bright, she always feels too much... Don't fault her for having troubles with sorting it all out."

"I don't—" he wants to protest, but Pieck's knowing look silences him.

"We've dated for almost a year," Pieck says. "It's been fun and I was in love. I was also the one who broke up with her. Do you know why?"

Levi shakes his head. Hange never told him.

"And about me? Has she ever talked about me?"

"No," Levi answers. "She did not."

"Huh," Pieck hums, gripping her stick to slowly stand up. Levi thinks he offended her, but when Pieck looks at him again, there is a soft smile on her lips. She reaches out, lays a hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"And yet, she used to talk my ears off about you."

She leaves a second later, and Levi is too stunned to follow after her and ask what did her words mean.

***

The next date will be the last one, Levi decides. He's getting tired of pretending that he does it in attempt to move on from Hange, because it clearly isn't working.

"That's Petra," Hange explains as she shows him yet another photo. The girl in picture is attractive, and, what's more important, not even vaguely familiar, and that is certainly relieving. Maybe, this one isn't Hange's ex. "She's my cousin," Hange continues, confirming his guess. "Well, she's a very, very distant one, but cousin all the same. She was at my last year's birthday party, do you remember her?"

"Not really," he confesses. All he remembers about that day is being drunk on wine and on feeling of Hange's arm around his shoulders, as she dragged him from one guest to another.

"I don't really remember if I introduced the two of you, but she likes you. She was staring at you during the whole party, she says," she was? Levi didn't notice. Then again, he most probably was too busy staring at the cousin of Hange's cousin to see anyone else. "So, yeah, Petra is, um, excited about this date."

Hange doesn't look him in the eyes as she speaks and she fiddles with sleeve of her shirt almost anxiously. It makes Levi wonder - if Petra likes him so, why haven't Hange introduced them earlier?

"You will like her, I think," Hange says, strangely quiet. "I gave her your number, she'll call you in the evening. Em," she stands up from the desk and pats his shoulders. "Good luck, I guess," she gives him a smile that seems forced and doesn't reach her eyes.

Hange leaves his office quietly without looking back even once.

***

They go to the park. They walk around and Petra gathers flowers as she talks about her hobbies and life. Levi learns that she is a school teacher and she's good at violin. She tends to her old father and she dreams of going to Paris.

She is ridiculously adorable - petite and soft-spoken, she looks like a disney princess, the type that attracts butterflies on her fingers and joins in on birds' songs every morning.

Levi likes her, he thinks. Well, he certainly doesn't dislike her, which already makes Petra stand out from all of his previous dates. And he can work with that, has to work with that, because otherwise he'd have to admit his defeat, he'd have to surrender to the knowledge that he'll be in love with Hange Zoe until the end of his pitiful life.

Levi isn't ready to wave the white flag just yet, so he asks Petra on another date, and then another.

It's going well, he tells Hange and expects squeals, smug looks or, at least, sincere congratulations.

Instead Hange mumbles, "I'm happy for you, Levi," and doesn't ask about Petra again.

Levi tries not to think about it, tries not to think about Hange, because he has someone else now, he has Petra and he has to commit to her now. Maybe, it will help him get over Hange.

And yet, his heart still aches for her and her only.

Still, Levi doesn't give up.

***

Every weekend, he asks Petra on a date, inviting her to a new place each time.

He makes sure that every place they visit is not a place he had ever visited with Hange. It proves to be a hard task very quickly, during their many years of friendship Hange has dragged him to almost every curious place in their city, but Levi manages.

He searches online and asks his friends and coworkers.

"What the fuck, Levi?" Mike looks almost angry as Levi asks him if he knows a good restaurant he can take Petra to. "Don't you and—"

Erwin stops him before he lets out whatever he wanted to say.

He gives Levi a tight-lipped smile and promises to send a few suggestions after work.

However, despite all his efforts, most probably, because he really is a hopeless fool, Levi just can't seem to stop thinking about Hange.

They go to a theater, and as Petra gushes about superb acting, intricate story parallels and other little things Levi doesn't quite see, he can't get rid of Hange's voice in his head that picks up every silly detail and makes a devastating joke about it.

They attend a concert of some local indie group and their songs are just horrible enough to make him miss Hange's weird music taste.

They visit the city's aquarium, Petra is dressed in a lovely blue skirt and sea green top, but Levi doesn't even notice. As he wanders around the aquarium, watching dolphins, sharks and medusas, all he can think about is damn, four-eyes would have loved it here.

*** It's their fifth date and Levi walks Petra home. The night chill is in the air and the winds blows smoothly, ruffling Petra's auburn hair and making her huff adorably as she fruitlessly tries to keep her haircut in order.

Levi wonders if he should lend her his jacket and remembers the time Hange did the same for him. That starts a new chain of thought - his interactions with Hange in the recent weeks, or, rather a disappointing lack of them. Hange doesn't come to disturb his quiet lunches anymore and she doesn't drape herself over his table, pestering him with stupid jokes and annoying puns.

Perhaps, it is for the best. Perhaps, it will make moving on even easier, but Levi doesn't want easier. He wants his best friend back. Even if she doesn't share his feelings.

"Levi?" Petra's voice pulls him out of his thoughts. It's gentle and quiet, like a summer breeze. It's drastically different from Hange's loud, booming one that resembles a thunder. Levi winces as soon the comparison enters his mind.

You're trying to move on, you idiot.

"Levi," Petra repeats, clutching the sleeve of his jacket to stir him away from a sidewalk. "I think we need to talk."

Oh, Levi knows that tone. It's a tone that says there is nothing wrong with you, but…

It's a tone that says it's their fifth and last date.

"I'm sorry," he tells Petra as soon as she seats them at a nearby bench. He really is sorry. He's sorry for wanting but not actually trying hard enough to move on. Petra deserves better than that. Deserves someone who will love her for who she is and not as a replacement for someone he can never have.

"It's alright," Petra smiles, because she's amazing like that. Because she's a kind person Levi never deserved. "I understand. There is someone else, right?" she gingerly lays her hand on his chest, right above his heart. "Someone that lives here."

Levi nods jerkily, moving his eyes to stare at the dark street. The sympathy in Petra's eyes is almost too much to bear.

"I should have known..." Petra chuckles, shakes her head. "When I first saw you, at that party, I was instantly taken away. You looked so handsome, with that sharp jaw and piercing eyes, I couldn't stop staring. I kept trying to catch your gaze, wishing that you would look back and be just as struck by me as I was of you. But you had eyes only for one person, right?"

There is no judgement, no anger in her voice. Petra sounds rather wistful, and Levi thinks that he'd rather endure her bitterness than have her kindness.

"Petra, I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't be," she says, placing a hand on his cheek. She caresses his skin, turning his face to look at her. She's smiling, so sweet and breathtakingly pretty. "It wasn't fair of me, to wish for something that wasn't mine. I saw the two of you, only a blind wouldn't see how devoted you are to my cousin...” and yet, Levi can’t help, but think bitterly, there is someone who still doesn’t see. “Hange is so brilliant, so smart, but sometimes she doesn't notice what's right in front of her. You have to show her, Levi, give a little push in the right direction," Petra pauses, presses her lips to his cheek. "Just don't give up yet. I want you both to be happy."

"Petra..." he touches her hand on his cheek, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for everything."

"I have my fair share of fun," she giggles. Petra stands up, smoothing her skirt. She turns to look at him, "By the way, Levi, do you have a brother?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Only a balding, annoying uncle who is twice your age."

"Ah," Petra's face falls. "Guess the world isn't lucky enough to have another one of you. But who knows?" she grins. "Maybe, I'll find someone even better."

As Levi watches her walk away, skipping between cars and people with an easy spring in her step, he wishes that Petra - the girl who looks just like a disney princess - will find her prince and get her happily ever after.

***

Levi pushes the door of his apartment complex, feeling spent and exhausted, with Petra's words still weighing heavily over his head.

Maybe, he should take her advice? Maybe, he should tell Hange how he feels, just to let it out of his chest.

He contemplates if he should call her or send her a text.

hey, hange, your cousin just broke up with me, because i'm hopelessly in love with you. i have beer and leftover pizza. want to hang out?

He quickly pushes the idea away. It'd be too pathetic even for him.

Besides, what if Hange isn't at home? What if she isn't alone and is on another date or already in someone else's arms?

Levi doesn't think he can take it. At least, not today.

As he shuffles up the stairs, he looks up to see the familiar hallway that leads to his apartment. Everything is as it always is - fluorescent light that flicks on and off, large trashcan littered with cigarette buts, a window that stands broken for almost a month now, and a body sitting by his doorstep.

Levi stops.

The body is definitely a new addition.

Tall, lanky and adorned with a mop of messy hair, Levi recognizes it instantly.

He quickens his step, worry seizing his throat.

What Hange is doing here? Is she ill? Is she—

"Leviii! Here you are!"

Lopsided grin, unfocused gaze and glasses that are steadily slipping down her nose, Levi doesn't need to see a bottle of wine clutched in her hand to know that Hange is drunk.

"The fuck you're doing here, four-eyes?" he grunts, taking the bottle away.

"I came to see you," she slurs, and it's a testament of how far he is gone, because even now, he finds Hange incredibly endearing.

"Why?" he pinches the bridge of his nose, an almost overwhelming feeling of I can't fucking do this right now washing over him.

"I wanted to—" Hange falters, and her grin disappears. "Doesn't matter," she mutters and attempts to stand up. "I should go."

She sways on her feet and trips, almost falls, but Levi doesn't let her. He catches her in the very last moment, putting his arms around her waist.

Hange's hands are around his neck, and she doesn't look him in the eyes. She stares at his left cheek instead.

"You really like her, huh?" she murmurs. "I'm happy, Levi."

Hange doesn't look happy at all. Her lips are pressed together, tightly, and there are tears in her eyes.

Levi doesn't understand.

He presses a hand to his cheek, to the spot Hange was looking at.

His fingers come away red.

Oh, it hits him. Petra's lipstick.

Was that the thing that upset Hange?

"C'mon," he pushes Hange upwards, despite her feeble protests. He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now, but he can't just leave Hange here or let her go home by herself. "Let's get you inside."

"No, Levi," Hange fruitlessly attempts to push him away, but Levi just tightens his hold on her and presses her to his side.

"Don't squirm so much," he admonishes, struggling to get to his key. "Where did you get so drunk anyway?"

During their many years of friendship, Levi has seen drunk Hange more times that he could count. But he had never seen her like this. Drunk Hange can be loud, vulgar, batshit insane. But she's not a sad drunk, never were. And the things she just said, the melancholy that accompanied them... Levi doesn't know what to make of it.

He decides not to acknowledge it, after all, Hange is drunk, even if she acts more strangely than usual, and so he focuses on getting her inside his apartment without letting her fall down or hit the wall.

It proves to be a more complicated task than anticipated because Hange keeps trying to get away from him.

Levi mutters a curse. As if he would let her.

After they finally pass the threshold, a tougher battle ensues. He leans Hange against the wall and gets on his knees, attempting to take off her shoes while simultaneously keeping her from falling on her ass.

After that is finally done, he drags Hange in the living room and deposits her on a couch.

"Are you sober enough to take a shower?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

Hange confirms it by shaking her head.

On one hand, Levi can always shower her himself, he has done it before. On the other... he's not drunk enough to do it.

"What a mess," he sighs and goes to bring her a blanket and a glass of water.

"So?" he drapes the blanket over her and crouches next to her face. "What happened?"

"I was out with Nanaba..." she begins, hand thrown over her face. "And then Mike and Erwin showed up..."

Ah, so that's who he needs to blame for all of it.

"And they asked me where you were and I told them about your date and Petra and..." Hange lets out a sound, something between a sniffle and sob. "And then they ambushed me! Mike said that I'm an idiot, Erwin told that I acted surprisingly unwise, which is... Have you ever noticed that sometimes Erwin talks like he's a character from Jane Austen's novels? Like he's Darcy or some other shit? It's irritating, I bet he does it on purpose, to appear more... more sophisticated."

"Hange," he flicks her forehead lightly, chucking to himself. "Get to the point."

"Right, right," she nods. "And then Nanaba... Nanaba smacked my head! She called me all sorts of names—" Hange raised her fingers, counting. "A moron, a fool, simpleton, dummy, an oblivious ass and a jerk. She then said I'm blind and unobservant."

Well... Nanaba wasn't wrong. Levi needs to thank her for that speech of hers. He couldn't have said it better.

"I'm not any of these things, am I, Levi?"

Hange turns to look at him now, her large eyes pulling him in, drowning him in their endless depth. She moves her hand, laying her palm on his cheek. The gesture reminds him of his conversation with Petra, but his feelings are different now. With Petra he felt ashamed and guilty.

With Hange, he feels confused and enamored.

She's drunk, he reminds himself. She doesn't know what she's doing, you're taking advantage of her.

He needs to leave her alone, to keep his distance before Hange gets her wits back.

"She's so orderly, huh?" Hange whispers, caressing his cheek. "It's your fifth date, and she only kisses you on a cheek."

Levi breathes out her name, unsure of everything now. What Hange is talking about can't possibly be true.

"She's so good, right? Petra is pretty and sweet, and she's not crazy like me. She doesn't annoy you like I do, and she's—"

She's not you, Levi wants to say. Instead he presses a hand over her mouth, silencing Hange before another stupid thing comes out.

"Stop this, four-eyes. You don't know what you're talking about. You're drunk."

"I am," Hange agrees. "Do you want to know why? Because I fucked up. Because I lost you and it's my fault that I did. Because the thought of you with someone else is so painful that I decided to drink until I forget," she chuckles, a broken, hollow sound, and raises her head to stare at the ceiling. "And now here we are."

Here they are...

"Nanaba was right," Levi curtly declares. "You're an idiot, Hange, the biggest one I had seen."

"Eh?"

"Do you know why it didn't work out with all the people you set me up with? Why it didn't work out with Petra? Why it wouldn't work out with anyone else?"

Hange opens her mouth, but Levi silences her once again.

"I'll let you think about it. You can tell me your answer in the morning."

Before Hange can protest, he plucks off her glasses and wraps the blanket tighter around her.

"Water is on a coffee table," he tells and heads to the bed.

It was one hell of a day. And something tells him - another horrible one is already waiting for him.

***

When he wakes up in the morning, it's to the pleasant smell of fried eggs and freshly brewed tea.

Cautiously, with last night’s events still fresh in his mind, he gets up and follows the smell to his kitchen.

There, he finds Hange with her hair still wet from a shower and dressed in his t-shirt and shorts.

Levi takes a second to take it all in - the sight of Hange in his clothes, the ease with which she moves around his kitchen, as though she belongs here, in his home. It's a sight he would never forget, and a sight he longs to see every morning, until the end of his days.

Hange notices him a moment later. She waves at him, grinning, and beckons him to take a seat.

"Good morning," she sings, far too cheerful for a person who was too drunk to stand last night.

She sets two plates and two cups on a table, and sits down next to him.

"How did you sleep?" she asks through a mouthful of her breakfast. "Good, I hope?"

"It was fine," he shrugs, attempting to mask his unease. Hange looks at him... strangely. "And you?"

"Mm, just a few hours and then I couldn't really sleep," ah, that explains it all then. Levi guesses Hange's cup isn't filled with tea. He wonders how much coffee she had already consumed. "I did something, by the way, to thank you for letting me crush at your place."

"You mean breakfast?"

"Well, that too, but no, another thing." Hange straightens out suddenly, shooting him a rueful grin. Her eyes, however, are nervous. "I've found you another date!"

Levi's face falls, but Hange either doesn't notice or doesn't care. She keeps on talking.

"She's something, Levi, super smart, downright hilarious and is extremely, unbelievably sexy. What's better, she's completely crazy about you. Like, it's actually embarrassing how much she likes you. Talks and thinks about you all the time, considers you the best thing in her life, well, like I said, she's crazy. She will lose it completely if you agree."

For a long moment, Levi is silent. He pushes the food around the plate, keeping his face down. And his smile away from Hange's eyes.

Then, when he physically can feel Hange's nervousness, he finally speaks.

"I guess, I can go on a date or two. See if we're compatible or not."

"Mm, I think you're quite compatible."

"I think so too."

It gets quiet for a moment, and then, because Hange is the biggest idiot he had ever met, she leans close to him and whispers, "I was talking about myself. You realized it, right? I'm asking you on a date. Just you know, I don't want you to misunderstand something or—"

Hange is insufferable. Impossible. Infuriating. Absolutely breathtaking, even in the moments of her greatest stupidity.

And kissing before the first date is unseemly. Outrageous, as Erwin would have put it. Levi’s mother didn’t raise him like that.

But Levi does it anyway, because, as he finds out - it's the best way to shut Hange up.

The kiss is quick, chaste, just a momentary touch to the corner of her lips.

Luckily, it’s enough to make her halt mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open slightly.

Levi rather likes her dazed expression.

“I have one condition,” he remarks casually, returning to his breakfast.

“Anything,” Hange promises, and Levi smirks at the slight breathlessness in her voice.

“No more setting me up with other people.”

“Oh,” she laughs, and because she’s utterly impossible he presses a kiss to his lips too. “Yeah, I can definitely work with that.”

Well, Levi can work with that too.

#levihan

174 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 4 years ago

Text

New Beginnings // roommate!au

(a/n) I’m sorry @duskholland for coming up with these aus. the good thing about it is, that I have no self control so here it is, the New Girl!roommate!au :) i’m not gonna say it’s great, and also i’v seen like 5 episodes of the show maybe so it’s definitely my own take on the pilot. hope you like it.

word count: 6.3k

warning: swearing, sexual references (the first paragraph is as bad as it gets), dark humour and mentions of murder, sex trafficking - basically reasons why not to move in with strangers you meet off of craigslist. Please be safe and responsible. but it’s all just fluff and humour. Also, possibly some horrible writing cause i couldn’t bother editing this <3

“And when I walked into the bedroom I found him in there, completely naked, with some slut sucking his dick… so basically, that’s why I need a new apartment.” You looked around at the three men in front of you, realising you had zoned out a bit there while telling your story. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Uhh,” the blonde one, which introduced himself as Harrison earlier, spoke, “Do you have any pets?”

“Oh,” well that was embarrassing, “No, I mean I had a schnauzer when I was younger and I always wanted to get another one but who am I kidding, nothing will ever live up to Mr Snuzzlekins.” For the love of God, shut up! “No, I don’t have any pets.” You felt your entire face heating up. Suddenly you became very aware of a strand of hair that was in front of your face so you pushed it behind your ear

“Mr Snuzzlekins?” The other one, Tom, laughed with a small smile.

“My sister named him,” you lied. You were already embarrassed as it was.

There was a moment of silence where no one knew what to say next, so you decided to break the tension. Awkwardly laughing, you said: “You know, the funny thing is, I didn’t expect you to be… guys.” That was true. When you had been searching through the Craigslist advertisements there had been a lot of applications for housing but you had ignored most of them because they sounded too much like human trafficking scams or some other creeps looking for a way to get a girl. You had particularly found interest in this apartment, not only because of the actual great (and safe looking) location of the building but also because you had thought that the ad was written by a woman. Not that you didn’t think a woman could murder you, but it did bring a bit more security to you to live with someone of your own gender.

Well, as you saw three men sitting in front of you, you had guessed that wrong. They did seem nice enough though. Handsome too. You really hoped they weren’t murderers. They wouldn’t do well in prison… also, your death. Not a favourable outcome in the slightest.

“Why’d you think that?” the third one asked. You had missed his name during the introduction round, but you already felt like you could be good friends with him. His boyish charms made you think he was younger than the other two, though he did have a very small resemblance to Tom. You found it cute how his curls bounced around when he moved his head.

“Well, the ad, it was phrased… very femini-ninely...” That was definitely too many syllables. Could this interview go any worse? No, probably not. But the guys didn’t seem to mind your momentary idiocy.

“Oh, yeah, we had our mum write it for us.” Tom explained, sitting a bit more straight up, “We had been trying to find someone else to live with us ever since our friend Tuwaine moved out, but we kind of suck at advertising ourselves, so yeah-”

“Oh, well that makes sense, yeah.” Their mum wrote it. So they were a family. Brothers? Yeah probably. You didn’t really see how the Harrison guy fit into that since he didn’t look anything like the other two. Shattering blue eyes instead of the warm hazel. Dark blonde hair instead of the reddish-brown. All three had magnificent bone structure that you had to admit, but not in the same way.

“So, what do you guys do?” you decided to ask.

“We’re actors,” Harrison said, pointing at himself and Tom. Since you had no heart palpitating reaction when you first saw them, you could probably safely assume that they were still trying to find their break out role. Harrison pointed at the third of their addition before continuing. “Harry is more of a behind the scenes man, photography and directing, that kind of stuff.”

“That’s… interesting.” You smiled. Were you about to move in with three wannabes? If you were, would it be inevitable that you’d end up paying the rent for all of them because they wouldn’t be able to find gigs? That was a bit harsh. Besides, you could always look for a new place before that happened and move out. And who even said that you could move in, in the first place? “Anything I might have seen you guys in? Or some of your work?” You directed the additional question to...Harry.

Harry. Harrison. Try to remember that.

“I’ve had a few roles on the West End, nothing big yet but once I have a role, it’s at least steady for a bit, you know,” Tom said.

“I’ve mostly been doing headshots for people, so I doubt you’d have seen anything I’ve done.” Harry said. You nodded to his statement.

“And Harrison has been signed with this fashion designer. You might have seen some ads around town.” Modelling. Not another model to live with. You tried not to let your smile fade.

“No, sorry, I don’t think I have. But I’ll be on the lookout.” The grin you put up actually reached your eyes genuinely.

“So what about you?” Harrison was the one to ask, not noticing any change in your demeanour. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m a teacher. I know, not very glamorous or anything- and I might sometimes come home with an abundance of ice-lolly sticks- but it’s good fun and it pays well.” You looked around some more around the apartment. As you focused on the spacious living room of the loft, you wondered how these guys could afford it. Were their rich parents paying for it? Was there secretly asbestos in the walls, making rent not even a problem? Were they going to kill you?

It was a really nice flat. With exposed brick walls and wooden beams at the ceiling, which the guys used cleverly to hang their houseplants from. Even with the large space and the big windows covering the outer walls of the room, it felt very homey. Comfortable.

“I’m sure you already know, but it’s a really great place you guys got.” Compliments always worked, so that was your way to go to ensure you had a roof over your head soon. Feeling a bit more comfortable now, you decided to get up to walk a bit around the room. The reason for that specific action was unknown to you, but you did it.

It had been the first day since your breakup that you had actually made an effort in looking presentable. Hair washed and brushed, you had clothes on that had zero Cheeto dust on it. Of course, since these were guys it probably didn’t even matter to them what you looked like but when you still thought you might be living with other women, you were terrified of being denied because of how you looked or something. That could still happen, but they just didn’t seem like the shallow type. And they had seemed really surprised when you appeared at their front door, as if they didn’t expect a girl to show up either.

All three of them turned their heads as you walked around, following you with their eyes. It was a mix of curiosity and the same fear that you saw in people on competition shows, when they were waiting for the judges’ critique.

You looked out the window to see the view. It was a lovely lookout on the city.

“How come your roommate moved out?” Was it your place to ask? You had no idea. They didn’t seem to mind the question, though.

“He moved in with his girlfriend instead.” Harry was the one to answer. A heart wrenching feeling fell over you. You didn’t know this Tuwaine, or his girlfriend, but a sudden wave of hatred towards them and their happiness overwhelmed you. Why did everyone have to be all happy and in love? It was disgusting. You were sick of it.

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind living here.” Somehow you managed to speak out without showing any of your feelings through it. You allowed yourself to walk around to the kitchen island. It was recycled wood with a dark varnish on top, making the light from outside shine on it. You could almost see yourself reflecting in it. Were they this clean or had they no idea how to cook?

“Don’t get me wrong, you seem great, but we don’t really know anything about you yet.” Tom got up and walked up to you. The other two followed his steps. You were now standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, making you feel as if you were a bartender ready to take their orders.

“There really isn’t much more to tell. I mean, I did just go through a break up, so emotions are uhm… out there. I might be spending the next few weeks watching horrible Hallmark movies, like 4 or 5… a day.” You saw the disgust on Harry’s face and quickly made an attempt at recovery. “But I can do that on my laptop and headphones, so ya know, I’ll be quiet. I’ll be in my room the entire time too, probably, so you might not even notice I’m here.” You tried to sell yourself as un-pathetically as possible. It had come to desperate measures in desperate times. Because, what your (possible) new roommates didn’t know, was that you had already spent the last four weeks looking for a new place, and while there was no luck in that, you had to do with sleeping on the tiny couch of your best friend.

As if he could actually read your mind, Harrison’s next question was: “So, where have you been living the last few days then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all,” you said, finding large interest in the pattern of the stained wood. Not looking up at the three men, “I’ve been living with my best friend. She’s great but I just don’t think I'm suited for the life she and her supermodel friends have-” Why did you mention the models? Your eyes shot up to Harrison’s. But it was Harry’s and Tom’s that were wide.

“Supermodels?” Tom coughed out. You nodded, having leaned in with your elbows on the table, looking rather unimpressed. The way Tom’s hands grabbed for the sleeves of his roommates did not go unnoticed by you. Before you could say anything, he excused himself and the others and they had disappeared into the corridor. Earlier on they had told you that was the way to the bathroom. They were trying to whisper, but weren’t doing a great job at it. You could hear every word perfectly well.

“What are we thinking, guys?” Tom said, closing the door behind him. When he turned around, Harrison and his brother were rubbing their arms, on the spots where Tom had been a bit too rough on his grip. Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub, while Harrison decided to remain standing,eventually leaning against the tiled wall. There was a bright light in the small bathroom, but the vintage green tiles made it all look much darker.

“She seems nice.” Harrison spoke up finally. “But I don’t know, she’s obviously a… she. Won’t that be weird?”

“What do you think, Tom?” Harry asked his older brother, who, even though had been the one to pull them into the bathroom, had not planned on saying much. “You’re the one with experience in living with a woman. So try to cancel out those supermodels for a sec.”

“I don’t know,” Tom bit the inside of his cheek. Before he had moved in with his brother and best friend, he had been living with his then girlfriend, Stacey. They had been together for a while until she had decided that maybe, this wasn’t meant to be after all. Unlike you, though, the apartment had been in his name so he had a place to stay, but he just couldn’t get himself to live alone in a place that was intended on being lived in by two people. So, he moved out.

“I mean… every girl is different, so I can’t say shit.”

“I’m really not that bad!” you shouted from the other side of the door, immediately hiding your mouth behind your hands. Now they knew you were listening to their private conversation. The bathroom door opened and Tom’s head popped out. He saw you sitting on the couch.

“Could you- could you hear all of that?” he pointed back into the bathroom. You nodded, still covering your mouth, scared you would say something else embarrassing. But the guys seemed to be just as abashed. One by one they walked out and came to sit on their basically appointed seats on the sofa. Did they have their own claimed seats? Would you need to be prepared to only sit in one spot of the room forever? Shit, they had all the seats with the window view…

“So,” Harry said, “when you said supermodels-” but he never got to finish his sentence because Harrison slapped him across the back of his head. You suppressed a small laugh. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tom, who reciprocated the expression. This, in turn, was missed by you. You only looked in his direction a second later, when the smile had slightly faded already.

“Thanks for saying that whole ‘every girl is different’ thing. Not saying I can’t cook… even if that is going along with the stereotype, but I wouldn’t exactly want to be accepted to live here as a nanny… not that I think you guys can’t take care of yourselves! I mean just look at-” you eyes wandered around them just for a second before coming back on the right track. “- at the apartment. What I mean is- uhh.”

“Guys are dicks?” Harrison suggested.

“Yes! No! No, of course not, well some. But I don’t think you guys are. You seem really nice. I’ve just had… experiences with living with other types of guys and that really was not the planned outcome now that I think about it and I don’t know why I can’t shut up now because I have no idea why I’m telling you all this.”

“Is this Spencer that we’re talking about here?” Tom asked and your eyes shot to his direction, shocking even him. The name had become somewhat of a trigger for you in the last few days. At the last moment, you realised you had actually mentioned his name yourself to them during your introductory story, so that spared you a good bit of humiliation there. You decided to keep quiet. You all did. Great, because this day had not gone awkward enough. Maybe you could sink into the surface of the ground and die there? Then there would be no more reason to find any living space. It would all be over. Yeah, that really didn’t sound too bad even.

“So, do you wanna see your room?” Harrison broke the silence and his words surprised everyone, even him. You took longer than it should have to comprehend what he had just suggested.

“What? Uhh, yes! Yes! Oh my god, that would be fantastic. Thank you.”

“Great,” Harrison clapped his hands on his thighs before getting up. Then he extended one of those hands to you. He led you to the corridor opposite the bathroom, the third door on the left. The door had some scraped paint residue on it and you could see a poor attempt was made at pulling off the scotch tape that held up posters on it or something? It opened up to a room. It wasn’t big or small. The wall color was a nice beige, a bit of a sandy, almost peachy color. You could definitely work with it.

The guys let you take it in, but also took that moment to give each other death glares, most of them directed at Harrison.

“What exactly were you thinking?” Tom asked him, this time properly whispering. For extra measure he extended his neck to look into the hallway to see if you were walking out of the room again.

“Actually, I was thinking about how you had showed up at my door at 2 am when Stacey dumped you.”

“She didn’t dump me. No one was dumped.” Tom denied like always.

“No, you were definitely dumped, mate.” Harry said, not even making an attempt at hiding the amusement in his voice.

“Anyway,” Harrison ignored the interaction between brothers, “I thought of you and how miserable you were then. She’s probably going through that same thing.” If not worse, he wanted to add, but he also didn’t want to edge Tom’s ego any further. “So, let’s give her a chance.”

Tom still didn’t seem to be entirely sure. He raised his eyebrow, thinking. He looked once more at the corridor, expecting you to walk out any moment, but you still were in the room. What were you even doing there? The place was entirely empty.

“Fine,” he gave in, “but if she turns out to be completely psychotic, you’re kicking her out, Haz.” He immediately noticed the wince in Harry’s face. Had he mistimed his words?

Yes, he had, because you were standing right behind him now. The sight of you made his heart stop for a good second as he went pale.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom gasped, “if you live here, you’re getting a bell. None of that sneaking around.”

“Are we talking service, hand, cow, or the kinky cat collar type?” you smirked, knowing you had gotten him completely flustered at your joke. While Harrison and Harry burst out in laughter, Tom didn’t move a muscle. His cheeks and neck, however, had started to turn a lovely rosy colour. He opened his mouth a bit, just to close it up again as he changed his mind.

_______________________

While you had told them that you would be spending your days crying into a pint of ice cream while watching movies, reality was much more different from that. It was true that you barely left your room, but that was because you were too busy unpacking all your things out and setting up your room. The guys were nice enough to help you bring up the furniture sets and the boxes, which had been lovingly left at the curb of the building by the people from the moving company.

That ordeal had taken up most of Saturday. Your first task was to set up the bed, which Harrison helped you with. You tried to tell him that you didn’t need help, but your words were futile the second you almost dropped a wooden plank on yourself. The flatpacks were easy enough to understand, and unlike what you had done there, you weren’t the worst when it came to building, so all the furniture was set up by the end of Sunday. It meant that you could spend the rest of the week opening boxes and making your room really yours.

But Monday also meant work, so you only had the afternoons and nights to do it. Together with the fact that you had to leave early for work, meant that the guys really barely saw you. The only sign of your presence would be the music you were playing from your room while doing the unpacking.

It was the fourth hour of your One Direction sing-a-long that Tom walked into the living room. Harrison popped his head up from his book to look at his friend. He did not look happy.

“Dude,” he said. The one word already evoked all that Tom wanted to say, but Harrison loved to annoy him.

“What?” he opened up his book again, pretending not to really pay any attention to Tom. This was made harder when Tom sat down next to him.

“If I hear What Makes You Beautiful one more fucking time-”

“Then what?” Harrison still kept his eyes on the words on the pages, not taking in a single word.

“You have to do something. I can’t take it.”

“Why do I have to do something?” Harrison closed his book with his finger still between the pages and looked at Tom, just in time to see him narrow his eyes in annoyance.

“Really? So do you wanna see your room y/n?!” His voice turned higher as he mocked Harrison’s words, following it up by a gagging sound. “You’re the one that got us here. Now, go solve it.”

“I really don’t mind it. If you’re so bothered, go talk to her yourself.” And with that, Harrison went back to his book. This time actually reading the words. It was enough for Tom to know that the conversation was over. He didn’t even try to argue. He gave Harrison one more glare and got up. While walking to your room, he noticed that Harry had actually been in the kitchen this whole time, listening in on their conversation. He tried to give his little brother a look, hoping for support, but he didn’t get any of that. Harry disappeared behind the doors of a cupboard and Tom went into the corridor, still rolling his eyes.

When he reached your door, he couldn’t hear you singing anymore. It was just One Direction coming from the speakers. Now, he enjoyed the lads just as much as the next guy, but after a while he just needed it to stop. And coming in in five hours was definitely a while.

He knocked on the door. There was a sound that resembled you. A bit of a murmur that formed no particular word. It didn’t sound like a denial though, so slowly, in case you didn't want him to come in, he opened the door.

You were quick in decorating the room. Only a few days ago it was still empty and a bit cold looking, now the walls were covered with posters and pictures. You had used one entire wall just for your bookcase. There didn’t seem to be an order on the shelves just yet, but you left that for the last thing to do since the rest of the room seemed a bit more important at the moment.

The bed was unmade, with several pillows thrown about over it. Behind it the headboard, which simultaneously served as a shelf. Stuffed animals and a few more books were strewn about. Overhead were fairy lights, matching the ones on the doorframe and on the bookcase. Together with the lamp that was on the desk, it was the only light in the room. Since it was dark, it gave the room a warm and cozy atmosphere.

But the first thing that Tom noticed when he walked into the room was the smell. Coconut? It wasn’t overwhelming, just strong enough to be pleasantly surprising and noticeable.

You were standing on a small step ladder, which you usually used to reach the upper shelf of your bookcase (high walls gave the opportunity for more shelves, which you could never say no to). You were in the middle of hanging up a picture on the wall as the song from your speaker continued.

Can we take the same road, two days in the same clothes-

You were holding on to the frame with both hands, trying to centre it on the nail in the wall, but every time you pulled away, the frame would slant to the side.

And I know just what she’ll say if I can make all this pain go-

Tom saw you get fed up with the picture, throwing it on the bed with a groan. That’s when you looked up at him. The dim and soft light was shining just at the angle that when he looked at you, he could see the tear streaks down your face. You had definitely been crying. You were still sniffling a bit when you stepped down to the floor.

“Am I too loud? Sorry.” you immediately reached out to your phone, which was connected to the speaker, and pressed down the volume. Then you decided to just turn it off completely. Maybe you’ve had enough of it for now.

“Uhh, a bit, but it’s fine. We like 1D here, so.” Tom suddenly felt like a real dick when he saw the small, apologetic, smile you gave him. You were holding the speaker in your hands as you sat on the bed, staring at it, a bit lost, and Tom wasn’t sure if he was supposed to leave or not.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You had clearly forgotten he was still there, because you looked up looking a bit frazzled.

“No.” You said honestly. What would be the point in pretending? You couldn’t fool anyone even if you tried. Misery was the only thing feeling your once Spencer-filled void. Ugh, the sound of his name, even just in your thoughts, made you want to scream. Unconsciously, and a bit to Tom’s amusement, you had grabbed one of your pillows and started to hit your fist right in the middle of it. Your hits were getting harder and rougher.

“Ever considered boxing?” He brought you out of your haze. You looked down at the pillow, seeing the sad looking indent on the kitten-patterned pillow. Tom took the pillow away from you and fluffed it out to its normal shape before putting it back.

“It’s just been hard, you know,” you said, more to yourself than to him and Tom understood that. He knew what you meant. He had been in that same position not too long ago and seeing you like this did definitely bring back some of those feelings he had tried to suppress back then.

“Like, I thought he was the one. And I know it sounds so stupid, I don’t even believe in that whole soulmate crap, but he was it for me. For the first time, I could actually imagine myself enduring nine months of hell to have a kid with him, sorry if I’m being TMI.”

“You’re good,” he said. He also understood that feeling. Maybe not in the exact, child bearing way, but he could resonate with that whole it thing. He had felt the same way about Stacey. He had never told anyone this, and was never planning on telling anyone, but the day before they broke up, he had been out in the city looking for an engagement ring. It had come unplanned. He wasn’t thinking yet about actually proposing. But he had been in town for an audition and on his way home he saw the jeweller. It was the first time he had ever thought of it, and it seemed right, so he walked in and just looked around.

“You must think I’m so pathetic though. Crying for weeks about some douchebag.”

“Well, you’ve only lived here for five days, so I wouldn’t know about that.” He smirked. You groaned again and fell with your head on a big fluffy pillow.

“But no,” he said eventually, “I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

“Thanks.”

_______________________

Another week had gone by and your mother had somehow found out about your new living arrangement. So, the last 20 minutes you had been sitting on the couch, listening to her yelling.

“No mum, I’m fine.” you said, for what felt like the 50th time. Right at that moment, Harry showed up in the living room, making his way from a shower to his bedroom, only a towel around his waist. His usually curly hair was a wet mop, covering most of his face.

“You don’t even know them!” your mother shrieked.

“Harry, are you going to murder me?” you asked as he walked by, covering the microphone of your phone. Without missing a beat, or looking down at you, he answered with a snappy “Yup,” and walked into his own room.

“They’re really nice guys, mum.” You told her. It took you another ten minutes to convince her not to come over tomorrow (or ever, in general). The conversation had taken an abrupt turn when suddenly, she invited you to a video call. Knowing that if you didn’t answer it, you would never hear the end of it, you accepted the call. Your mothers face, or better said, forehead, showed up on screen. You tried to cover your chin as best as you could with the collar of your sweater since you were too tired to hold up your phone at a reasonable angle.

“Hi mom,” you sighed.

“Where are they?!” she said, looking around as if she could actually see more than what your camera showed. You were going to lie that they had gone out, but right at that second Harry walked out of his room. Thankfully he was dressed, but his hair was still a bit wet. His shoulder was just visible in the corner of your screen and you tried to move to the side, but your mother had noticed him already.

“Who’s that?” Why did your mother always have to be so loud?

“Uhh, that’s Harry.”

He looked up at the mention of his name. You were scared that it would make him uncomfortable if you talked about him to your mom, it was making you uncomfortable for sure, but instead he jumped up at the opportunity and the next second he was leaning on the couch, almost over you, and smiling at your phone.

“Hi.” He waved to your mother. His quick movements made his hair move around, giving you a nice first row experience of the fountain show coming from it. You wiped the water off your face.

“What’s your name again?” Your mother asked.

“Harry, Ma’am. Harry Holland.” He said with a smile. You both knew that when your mother had asked him his name, she meant his full name. She wouldn’t be able to make any deep research, but it was in case you suddenly went missing, of course.

“How old are you?” your mother went on with the third degree, glaring at your roommate at each question. Harry answered it all with a big and charming smile. You held the camera, hoping the couch could eat you already. This could not get any more embarrassing, could it?

Oh, it could. Because half way through, your sister had shown up and sat down next to your mom. She didn’t say anything, but suddenly a text notification popped up on the top of your screen.

Who’s the hot guy?

Your sister was not imbecile, yet she loved to act like it. Of course, Harry saw the text and erupted in a loud laugh, startling your poor mother. As the timer on the call was reaching 30 minutes you decided to say your goodbyes and end the conversation. Harry was still laughing.

“So… you’re sister…” he said once calming down.

“Don’t even think about it. She’s 17.” you glared at him and he immediately shut up, which you appreciated.

“Well, your mom seems nice,” he eventually said. You knew he didn’t mean it in that way, but in the context of your previous exchange, it didn’t sound great. Now you were the one laughing.

“That is not what I meant!” he shouted out, grabbing a throw pillow and hitting you on the arm with it lightly.

“Jesus, calm down. I know.” You grabbed the pillow from him. You were both in a fit of giggles by then. It took a moment to catch a breath and by that point, your head was actually hurting.

“So do you think I’m hot?” Harry asked, raising his brow like the cheeky fuck he is. You just rolled your eyes and hit him with that same pillow. Maybe a bit too hard, because it knocked him off balance and when you looked up, he was no longer leaning on the backrest of the sofa.

“Oops. Sorry.”

_______________________

Something you had to learn the hard way when it came to living with the guys was that you had to lock your doors. They weren’t doing it on purpose, but they had a tendency to forget to knock when walking into the bathroom, or even your bedroom. Specifically, Harrison.

Usually, you’d consider him to be the more logical of the three, but that didn’t really mean that much. He was just as much of an idiot as the two Holland brothers at times.

The bathroom incident had happened during your first week of living with the boys. You were taking a shower. The loud water had cancelled out the sound of the door opening so you didn’t know that while you were washing your hair, Harrison had walked into the bathroom.

In his defence, he thought it was Tom showering, not you.

You had not been made aware yet of the honourable fifth member of the household: a life size Nicolas Cage cardboard cut-out. So, when you pushed the shower curtain aside, and were met eye to eye with Nick Cage himself, you screamed bloody murder, almost falling in the bathtub. The door opened to horrified Harrison, realising his mistake. He realised it as soon as he heard the screams, which clearly did not belong to Tom.

But another scream followed, which was shorter and more specific, followed by a “Fuck!” made him feel like something else had happened. It sounded like you had gotten hurt. So, obviously, he walked in to see if you were alright.

You were, in fact, alright, and seeing him standing there, eyes wide as he saw your naked body, you screamed again for him to get out. He took a second to grab Nick and pull him out of the room, mumbling a few sorrys, and closed the door behind him.

Flushed, slightly angry, and with a pounding heart, you dried off and got dressed. Unlike the guys, you were never one to parade half naked around the house on your way from the bathroom to your bedroom.

You walked out, a pile of old clothes in your hands, to see Harrison. He looked like a puppy that might be about to be smacked with a newspaper on his nose. Usually you were very much against that disciplinary practice, but Harrison was no puppy, and you had been scared shitless.

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” he apologised as he followed you to your room. You were telling him that it was alright, and actually quite funny, but he really wanted you to know that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to scare you like that or walk in on you naked or linger his eyes on you for that long.

“Seriously, Haz, it’s fine. Shit happens… just, don’t walk into the bathroom anymore when I shower. Or ever actually, if I’m in there, don’t.”

“Yeah, of course.”

And he kept to the promise. You didn’t get any other sudden visits in the bathroom, but it was not the last time that Harrison saw you naked.

You were all going out to a bar one night, and a bit shamefully, you were taking a bit longer than usual with getting ready. The guys had been waiting for a while already, and you were trying to hurry up, but you just had no idea what to wear. Finally you had found yourself a dress that might make you get a bit lucky that night. You weren’t even planning on hooking up, but the attention was appreciated. In your, still not exactly over your break-up situation, it was actually needed.

In the meantime, the guys were deciding which one of them had to go and tell you to hurry up. It was getting late and they needed their time to get completely smashed. And while waiting for you, getting knock out drunk was definitely not happening.

Harrison drew the figurative short straw. He thought you were doing your make-up or something, being aware how much time that can take sometimes. He never imagined opening the door and seeing you standing in the middle of your room, only in a pair of panties. You didn’t see him at first because your dress was over your head as you tried to pull it on. Harrison closed the door before you saw anything. But you could hear the thud of the door closing.

You pulled the dress over your body, grabbed a pair of matching heels and put them on as you got out of your room. There you saw Harrison. His red cheeks indicated that he was the one who had walked into your room. Tom and Harry were standing at the door. They could see you walk out and their eyes had gone a bit wide. Clearly, the dress was serving its purpose.

Having already gone through this whole embarrassing scenario already, you decided to spare Harrison. You have him a soft smile.

“Could you help me zip up?” you asked, turning your back and pushing the hair away from the zipper.

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, of course.” He was so flustered. It was actually adorable. You could feel his hands on you as he grabbed the two sides of the dress and the zipper and slowly, carefully, pulled it up.

“Thank you,” you said when he was done. He didn’t respond, his face still as red as a stop light. And it didn’t get any better when you kissed him on the cheek.

It was definitely interesting to be living with them, but you couldn’t complain about a single thing… except for the laundry, maybe.

The END

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @spiderrrling @lonelyavenger @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what-a-beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions-archive @fallinfortom @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @rxsydreams @musicalkey @joyleenl @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014 @marvelouspeterparker @siriuslyslyslytherinyes @lunalovegoodsgirlfriendyes @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @quinjetboi @sheranatic111 @zspideyy @lizzyosterfield @dahliasbroken @parkerlovebot @itstaskeen @sarcasticallywitty15 @sluttytears @lilhoodhippie @theliterarymess @marlenetough @tomsirishgirlx @hiiii-i @wonderfulfluffer @dumbledorrs @hollandstea @roseke @outshineallthestars @spideyspeaches @ieatchildrenfordessert

#tom holland au #roommate au #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #harry holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #harry holland fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff

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mcwriting · 3 years ago

Text

A Science Project for the Ages

Big thanks to this anon for this request! Sorry it's taking me longer to fulfill my requests from when I was in quarantine but I'm trying to get those done soon!

This is a slight continuation of lab partners but can definitely be read alone :)

Ship: SoftNerd!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1883

Warnings: one blink-and-you'll-miss it bad word

⚛︎

There was a loud buzz as your phone vibrated against the wood table in the science library.

You quickly picked it up, trying not to disturb the few other students around as you looked down at the screen.

Tom.

Though you were together now, he very rarely called at this time. He knew you always studied here before dinner time and respected that.

You grabbed your notebook and bag and shuffled into the hall to answer.

"Tom? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, um. So sorry to bother you, but you've finished your science expo project, right?"

You furrowed your brows as you slid down the wall to sit and stuff your notebook back in your bag. You knew this conversation was going in a weird direction already. You could hear a faint beeping in the background.

"Uh, yeah..?"

"Right, and what was that project over again?"

"I did an analysis on light absorption of different common solutions and then compared them to the color they turned when I lit them on fire. I thought we already talked about this the other day..?"

"Yes, yeah, sorry. So one more question before I tell you what's up. Do you happen to know how to bake?" Tom asked quietly.

Suddenly you remembered what all his project was on.

He was doing a food chemistry project, explaining certain phenomenons that happen when you bake. He had hoped giving people baked goods would make them like his project more.

"I- Tom I told you I would help you but you said it would be fine," you said flatly."

"Well..... Now it's not fine, and Alex isn't here to help me. He went to his girlfriend's."

Tom's roommate. He was usually pretty patient with Tom's clumsiness, but sometimes he just had to get out and enjoy a day off, too. Tom understood, but now the burden fell on you.

"Fine, I'll be there in a little bit. Text me if you need me to bring anything."

⚛︎

You walked in to the smell of burnt. It was overwhelming and you choked as you rushed to the window to air out the apartment.

"Hey, sorry about the smell," Tom said nonchalantly from the kitchen.

You turned to see the situation at hand, which was definitely... a situation.

It was like something out of a movie. Messy bowls and utensils littered the sink. There was cake batter splattered across the counters. Finally, the culprit still sat in a muffin tin on the bar: a dozen very black cupcakes.

You sighed.

"Forgot to set the timer?"

"Yep."

"And let me guess. This was your first experience with baking?"

"That's exactly right."

"Of course," you muttered, but then clapped your hands together enthusiastically. "Well, then. Let's try and fix this, shall we?"

You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Tom's cheek, then brushed past him to grab the tray.

"First on the agenda, we are going to take off the papers and chuck these off the balcony to let out some frustrations, alright?"

You were lucky in that Tom's apartment was on the top floor, and his balcony faced a wooded area. The only thing he could hit was a tree and the food would eventually biodegrade into the soil.

You both tossed them, competing to see who could throw the farthest. It let Tom blow off some steam, and also gave more time to ventilate the place before you went back in.

After the last cupcake (if you could call it that) was tossed, you got started on cleaning everything up. He had used a lot of bowls for one boxed cake mix, but you didn't ask.

It took a while to make sure things were sufficiently clean, but finally everything was ready to make a new batch.

"Oh one other thing before we start. Have you ever made a meringue?" Tom asked as he preheated the oven, which you carefully supervised to make sure it was right.

"I mean, I've made some before. Why?"

"Well part of my project was talking about how egg proteins bind. They sound pretty easy. Just eggs and sugar, right?"

Your hand covered your eyes in disappointed surprise.

"What? No. Tom, meringues are like, notoriously one of the hardest things to get right. They land just before macarons, and meringue is one of the main parts of a macaron!"

"What are you talking about? How can something with two ingredients be that hard to make?" he tried to argue, but you weren't about to let him trick you into making something so difficult.

"Did none of your research explain how moisture, temperature changes, utensils used, and method of cooking affect the outcome."

"...Uh... no."

"Were you planning on using the Swiss, Italian, or French technique?"

".....I didn't know there was more than one."

"Well then you might go do a quick search to add to your presentation while I cover the cupcakes."

While he did that, you made up the batter and got the cupcakes in the oven (set at the right temperature for the right time), then got started making some frosting.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know you aren't supposed to make meringues in a plastic bowl?"

"Yep. Plastic can retain lipids which prevent proper binding. Same reason you can't whip the yolk."

"That's what this says! How did you know that?"

You shrugged.

"I like to bake. By the way, you better credit me as your pastry chef on the presentation."

"Will do."

He made some edits on the page and found a recipe claiming to be the easiest method, so you caved and agreed to help him make them when the cupcakes were done.

As you measured sugar and got the whisk attachment ready, you looked over and admired Tom as he meticulously separated the eggs.

You couldn't help but fall head over heels for him all over again seeing how he did each step carefully, all his focus on each little egg.

Sure, he was a little clumsy sometimes, but he was precious and cared about whatever he did.

It took what seemed like hours to get the egg whites whipped properly (and lots of arguing with Tom about what "stiff peaks" meant), but finally you had them in a piping bag and on a pan to bake.

You couldn't help but wait by the oven in anxious anticipation for the meringues to come out, even though they'd be in there for a while.

Tom sat right next to you on the (surprisingly) clean kitchen floor as you stared at the oven.

"Babe?" he asked softly, leaning into you.

You hummed a response, taking the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for coming and helping me. I know you value your library time."

You smiled and sat back up, looking Tom in the eyes.

"You know, I wasn't really studying anyways. I was watching youtube videos with my headphones in because I didn't want to go home yet."

Tom had a mischievous grin and furrowed brow.

"So you just go there as an excuse to get away from me?!"

You laughed and knocked into him slightly.

"No! I just got done with my homework and wanted to hang around campus for a while... and I had a feeling you'd call eventually."

Tom gasped.

"You didn't trust me!?"

"Now that I can answer truthfully..." you started, causing him to pout. "I'm not saying I didn't trust you at all, it's just that I had never once heard of you baking and figured I would prepare myself accordingly."

"Does this mean that Alex knew too?"

"I can't speak on his behalf, but I'm glad it was just us anyways. I like getting to spend time with you like this." You paused to peck him on the lips. "Want me to read over your project? I know those spelling errors can slip by sometimes."

Tom grinned, wordlessly getting up and offering you a hand.

⚛︎

The expo was in full swing and you nervously stood on the other side of the room as your project to watch people walk by and observe your findings.

You had already given your presentation to the judging panel and now the expo was open to the public, so you tried to avoid stressing too much as you talked with some friends.

Suddenly a pair of warm arms came around your stomach and Tom's scent enveloped you.

"Hey baby, how ya feelin'?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as your thumbs rubbed over his hands instinctively.

"You know me. A little nervous." You flipped in his arms to face him. "And what about you? The judges like our sweet treats?"

"They sure seemed too. Dr. Grand liked the meringues so much she asked for another."

You smiled.

"Well either way, I'm proud of us both."

"Thanks again for helping, I couldn't have done this without you. I made sure to emphasize how difficult meringue making is during my presentation thanks to you."

Finally your friends had enough of the cutesy bullshit and convinced you and Tom to rejoin the conversation, both of you with arms around each other as you conversed.

Time passed and eventually they gave prizes to the best projects of the expo. You knew you wouldn't win anything, there were some far better projects out there that included heavy research.

"And in first place, 'Science around us: the chemistry of baking' by Mr. Tom Holland! Congratulations! If all of our winners could come pick up their ribbons and get a photo for the newsletter, that would be great."

Tom stayed casually next to you, so you had to shake him and get his attention.

"Did you hear that Tom? You won!"

Tom blinked a few times, then gasped.

"I won!? I mean, we won!!?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him forward.

"Go on, get your blue ribbon, baker boy."

He excitedly rushed up to the table where his prize awaited (tripping a few times, but you ignored that) and bounced on the balls of his feet as someone pinned the ribbon to his shirt.

You could see the sheer delight on his face as the winners took a group photo, and he practically skipped back to meet you.

You and your friends gave him congratulations as he happily looked down at the blue piece pinned to him.

He then unpinned it and tried to hand it to you.

"Now, don't congratulate me, y/n gets all the credit for making everything."

"No, no. It was your idea and you did the research. You deserve that more than anyone else. And plus, you were right. Baked goods did give you an edge over the competition."

"Well I say it was a science project for the ages!" he exclaimed, holding up the ribbon. You and your friends cheered to that.

"How 'bout we go celebrate your win over lunch, hm? The cupcake I had isn't holding me over and I'm starving."

"Sounds perfect, darling. Lead the way."

You happily headed off towards the nearest place on campus, completely oblivious to the fact that Tom had pinned his blue ribbon to your backpack.

He quickly made up time and slipped a hand into yours.

If nothing else, he was the boyfriend of the ages.

⚛︎

A/N: thanks to the anon who sent the request for this! I really enjoyed writing it! I think I could've improved some things but overall I'm pretty satisfied with it, and I hope you are too!

Permanent Tag List

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh, @hollandswife

#a science project for the ages #tom holland #tom holland story #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine

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iridescent-petrichor · 3 years ago

Text

i love you, i mean it, chapter one

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Warnings: brief mention of tony being dead

Words: 1K

A/N: New series time babey !! im excited for this one i’ve been thinking about it since wandavision came out i just never had the motivation to get it going

Next Chapter

It had been three weeks.

Three weeks since your dad told you everything would turn out fine.

Three weeks since he sacrificed himself to defeat Thanos.

You hadn’t been to the avengers compound since he died, despite the fact that he had spent almost no time there in the five years since the blip. The memories of him were still littered everywhere, and it was just too much for you to bear. But you knew you had to go back soon, Happy had been bugging you about stuff you needed to pick up for the last couple of days.

The insistent buzzing of your cellphone snaps you out of your thoughts, glancing at it on the counter. It was an incoming call, from Stephen Strange. Why would he be contacting you? He hadn’t seen you since-

You frantically swiped at the tears that threatened to fall, clearing your throat to rid your voice of sounding like you’d been crying.

“Yeah?”

“Y/N, are you at your apartment?” You blinked for a moment, surprised at his urgency.

“Yeah, why do you-” Before you could finish your sentence, a gold light caught your eye. You sighed, watching the glowing golden portal materialize in your living room, crossing your arms when Doctor Strange stepped out into your home. “You know, you can’t just barge in here whenever you-”

“We have a situation.” He interrupts, moving to the side as a man with silver hair followed him through the portal before it closed, flecks of gold drifting in the air for a moment before disappearing altogether. “This is Peter Maximoff. You might want to sit down.”

“Wait a minute so…” You took a deep breath, glancing between Peter and Stephen. “You’re from a different dimension.”

“Yep.”

“And you have the same powers as Wanda’s dead brother. And you also have a sister named Wanda.”

“Yep.”

“And… you ended up here because…?”

“A crazy witch pulled me from my bedroom to your weirdo dimension.”

“Right,” you sat back in your seat, running a hand over your face before turning back to Stephen. “And why did you come to me?”

“We needed to keep him somewhere safe. I figured your apartment had enough security measures that it would be best to have him stay here.”

You barely paid attention to his explanation, choosing to examine the boy in front of you instead. He looked to be about your age, and he was, admittedly, very cute. Plus, he did have nowhere to go…

“Fine.” You finally agree, standing up once you made your decision. “He can stay with me for the time being, but you better work quickly, Doc.”

He nodded, standing as well. Peter looked between the two of you from his spot on the couch, before he jumped up to stand next to the wizard.

“I trust you’ll be in good hands,” Stephen said with one final look to Peter, then to you, before disappearing through a portal back into the Sanctum Sanctorum.

You offered him a smile, motioning for him to follow you through the apartment. You showed him the bathroom, kitchen, and your home office, which was once a guest room. That would’ve come in handy, you thought, before closing the door and turning to Peter.

“And that’s it! There’s also my bedroom, but it’s definitely not clean, so you can see it another time.” He nodded, staring up at the high ceilings.

“You have a really nice apartment.” He commented, eyes wide in awe.

“My dad was a billionaire.”

“Oh.”

Peter continued to gawk at the place, before finally fixing his gaze on you.

“So,” He started, shoving his hands in his pockets. He broke his focus on you to examine the apartment once more. If you had known him any better you would’ve thought he looked… nervous. “Do I have to worry about you bringing a boyfriend around, or…?” He trails off, smiling a little when you laugh.

“No, no. Don’t worry, considering my dad was one of Earth’s mightiest defenders, not a ton of people wanted to step up and ask me out.”

He nods thoughtfully, leaning against the wall. The silence fills the room, and you suddenly find yourself getting flustered. He’s still looking at you, but you surprise yourself by being unable to make eye contact with the boy.

“Well, get yourself settled. I guess you don’t really have much of… anything, right?” You say, in an attempt to break the now awkward silence.

Still, he says nothing, shaking his head as he continues to look at you.

“Then that’s that. Tomorrow we can go shopping. And I can show you around New York!”

“I’m from New York.” He smirks, a look of amusement appearing on his face.

“Then I can show you my favorite spots!” Your smile doesn’t falter, and you turn away from Peter to grab a pile of blankets from a nearby closet, missing the way his eyes soften as he stares at you. You’re thankful for the momentary distraction that you use to will the blush on your face to calm down.

When you make your way back to the living room with the blankets, he follows right behind you. Almost like a lost puppy, you smile to yourself, placing them down on the side of the couch.

“Sorry I don’t have a guest room or anything. I never really expect guests to stay over.” You shrug, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry about it, this couch looks like it was made of clouds.” He laughs, and you feel yourself relishing in the sound. He has a very nice laugh.

Before you let yourself think about that too hard, however, you check the time.

“Well, it’s already getting a little late, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll be in my room, just let me know if you need anything!” He nods, watching you hurry off to your bedroom before attempting to get comfortable on the couch.

You shut the door to your room, trying to wipe the stupid smile off your face the whole time you get ready for bed. Maybe having to babysit someone from another dimension won’t be too bad.

#peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader

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fawnhunter · 3 years ago

Text

Lincoln Clay SFW A-Z

- written with a chubby reader in mind, but that’s not the main focus at all.

!: possible suggestive themes. nothing too serious tho

A= activites- what do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

When Lincoln does have time to spend with you [ Aside from any missions he takes you on] he likes to take you out to do things. He will take you to areas and districts he has already claimed so that it’s safe for the two of you. And then he leaves it up to you. You want dinner? You got it. You wanna go to a show? You got it. You wanna have a night in with just you and him? You can have that too. But he wants to show you off.

B=beauty- what do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Lincoln enjoys his s/o’s shoulders/chest. He thinks that your collar bones are beautiful, and he enjoys a sweetheart neckline. When he sees you during the day, his arms always find their way around your shoulders. And at night in the bed, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and crushes you against his side. His face finds its way to your neck and chest by the end of the night

C=comfort- How would they help their s/o during hard times or when they need it most?

When you come to him with an issue, and it so happens that you ended up getting hurt or threatened. Then he handles the issue right away, he may have other things to do but you are at the top of his list. He will make sure you never have to deal with this issue again. If the issue happened to be more emotional, he may not be as much help. But he will hold you until you pull yourself together and assure you that he has your back.

D= dreams- how do they picture their future with their s/o?

All Lincoln knows is that he wants you for as long as he can keep you. He will continue to fight to keep you, but he knows some day soon his story will come to an end. The thought that his life is not guaranteed is the only reason why your future is iffy.

E= equal- are they the dominant one or are they more passive in your relationship?

As much as my switch ass hates to admit it, he ends up being the more dominant one in the relationship. He leads the way day in and out. Let you know when to go and where. Stands in front of you when you go places, and nudges you behind him a little for most conversations. Checks in on you all the damn time, and does most of the stuff for you when at home, even when you insist you can handle it.

F= Flirting- how often do they flirt or tease their s/o? How smooth are they?

He is flirting with you every chance he gets. Sly little things whisper into your ear when you try making breakfast. Lingering touches when you begin getting dressed for the day. Filthy things said over the dinner table, just to startle you a little. Smoother than he should be. Every move he makes has the ability to lead into a quickie somewhere. A dangerous man indeed.

G= Gratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o does for them?

Lincoln is very grateful for you. He knows he can be considered scary, he hears it enough from the people on the street. But his heart swells every time he returns to your shared Apartment and all of you are still there. He Doesn't know how he would patch himself up if you were there as well, you keep him clean and healthy after a long day.

H=Honesty- do they have any secret that they keep from their s/o or do they share everything

Lincoln doesn’t talk about the things he did during the war, he will talk about his time, and about the activities he did with donovan. But he leaves out the gross gorey details, he doesn't want to come off as a monster

I=Inspiration- did their s/o change something about them or is it the other way around? (it could be personal issues or just trying new day to day things)

You have reminded him that there is still a little heart within him. When he comes home, he tries to remind himself that this is you. And that you love him. And he tries to put that hardcore, Sal killing mindset away, and just tries to relax

J=jealousy- do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I don't think that he is given many chances to get jealous. I think he knows that the two of you are in a relationship, and I think that he would have trust for you. If he ever does get jealous, he will bring it up and maybe ask a question. But he really just wants peace of mind not to create problems for the two of you.

K=kiss- how do they kiss? What was the first kiss like?

Well for starters Lincoln alway kisses you when he sees you, and when he's saying goodbye. These kisses are short and chaste, just enough to give a taste of you for good measure. His other kisses are always more intense, his hand squeezing your waist or thread through the hair on the back of your neck, just to hold you in place while he kisses you. Breathes in the scent of you deeply and doesn't let you go until he’s done kissing you

L=Love confession- How did it go down?

He was hurt pretty badly after a mission. It seems like all the adrenaline shots in the world couldn't help his case. He was hurting real bad, but all he could think about was coming to you, and making you the last thing he sees, before his time is up. But your home appeared closer than he thought it would, and before collapsing on your doorstep he knocked on the door. [Ever the gentleman] And After hearing your concerned gaps and the watering of your eyes and felt safe enough to sleep. And when he woke up, the first thing he saw was your form right next to him. He had to let you know how felt, before he never got the chance again

M=Marriage- do they want to get married? How do they propose? Wedding day description?

Marriage may seem like a far off dream for Lincoln. The only thing he sees set in stone for his future is Sal Marcono’s death. I think Under different circumstances, with Sammy still alive, he would be a married man for sure.

N=nicknames- what do they call their s/o?

Puddin

Peaches

Darlin

Honey

O=Obsessed- how protective are they of their s/o? How much are they worried about them?

Lincoln is as protective as one can be. When at your home, he is alway in the same room as you. He may be doing something like reading a file, or fixing his guns but his glance always finds its way back to you. When he is out with you he is your shadow, right behind you or almost flanking you. He worries about you sometimes, when he has to leave the area of your home, he finds himself calling you, or asking Donovan to check up on you.

P=PDA- are they obvious about the relationship? Do they talk a lot about his s/o? Are they okay with affection in front of others?

Lincoln does not just go running around yelling about you. That being said his immediate crew does know about you, sometimes with you coming with him on missions you run into them. Cassandra and Vito are favorable to you, And Burke is.. well.. Burke. PDA in front of the other is rare as when you two are out together there is rarely time for that.

Q= Quirk- some random ability they have in a relationship

Lincoln is just a little touch starved, the human contact he receives is associated with pain and lies. So i think he won't ever need any space, sit next him, on his lap, look over his shoulder when he reads. Just touch him he loves it

R=Romance- how romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o smile? Are their ideas rather original or creative?

Lincoln takes any chance he has to be romantic.When he isn’t trying to get things done, he likes to spend his time with you. Dates outside of your home are not a common occurrence, he just doesn’t feel like he can really keep you safe. His romance has more of a catering feel. He shadows you a lot so you find yourself not needing to grab things or reach on your own, he’s already one step ahead of you. He likes to make you laugh by being his cute butterbean self.

S=support- do they push their s/o to do better? Do they believe in them?

lincoln isn't the type of person to get to involved in his S/o’s personal life, i mean we all know he is a busy man. If he does push his S/o to do better it's because he knows it's something his S/o is passionate about. He wants the best for you and believes in you as well, he just isn't overbearing about it and may need to be reminded to express that verbally sometimes.

T=thrill- are they okay with a certain routine or do they need some spice every once in a while?

Lincoln needs routine in his life. He has spent most of it away at war where nothing is ever the same. And when he attempted to rebuild his life the first time, everything went sideways. Knowing exactly what going to happen when he comes to see you is something that make him feel stable, and it is something that he craves

Understanding- how well do they know you? Are they sensitive to your emotions?

If Lincoln has committed to being your S/o then he knows you like the back of his hand. He knows when you have good days and bad ones and is always ready to step in and lend a hand

V=Value- how important is your relationship compared to other things in their life?

This question is a little tricky for Lincoln because he has a job to do . He loves you but he also knows that this is a thing he needs to get done. And in order to do that sometimes his job may have to come before you. In the names of people on his list, you are at the top. If you are not his first thought then you are the second.

W=Wild card-Random Fluff bomb!!

Lincoln finds great pleasure in being helpful towards you any time he can get involved in something you’re doing, he wants to be the one who helped you finish.

X=XOXO- how affectionate are they? Are they a cuddle bug or do they like their space?

Because he can always see you, he tends to be very affectionate with you. In his day to day life he doesn't get much healthy skin to skin contact, so any chance he has to get some love from you he takes it. He is a cuddle bug, when you take a seat on the couch he sits next to you but much closer than he should be. When out in public his arm finds its way around your waist and shoulders on its own.

Yearning- what happenes when they miss you

When he misses you he finds anyway he can to reach out to you and tell you that he loves you. He most likely has a memento that you've given him in the past that he keeps on him for moments like this. Other than that he gets really solemn, he punches a little harder so he can have a reason for you to clean him up.

Zzz- how do you both fall asleep/nap

When sleeping you both are engulfed in each other. His arms wrapped around you pressing you to him as tight a possible. One leg thrown over his side and your arms around his neck keeping him close to your chest. ITs hot and sticky and gross but you can hear his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing and decide that it's worth it.

#lincoln clay #mafia 3 #lincoln clay x reader #claireblep #sfw alphabet

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sylvies-chen · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt 74 for Brettsey?

74. "You've shown me what love can feel like."

Sylvie sees Harrison in Chicago for the first time in seven years.

She doesn't know how or why. She's getting coffee at the place around the corner from her building (she's become a regular there), sipping on a vanilla latte, when she sees him. He just walks up to her table, stands there, and nods as if he just casually ran into an old friend who just so happens to live in a completely different state. As if they didn't end on horrible terms. As if he wasn't an emotionally abusive, manipulative asshole.

It throws her for a loop, to say the least.

"Sylvie," he greets her. "I thought that was you I saw. I see you're still ordering those sugary, frilly drinks."

Ah. It's nice to see Harrison hasn't changed one bit in seven years. Sylvie has though-- she's strong enough to not let crap like that get under her skin.

"Harrison," she gawks. "Why-- I mean... what are you doing here in Chicago?"

"Getting married," he nods casually.

Sylvie nearly spits out her coffee. "What?"

"Yeah," he confirms. "I'm engaged. My fiancée, Marissa, wanted to have the wedding here. I guess she's finally making an honest man out of me, huh?”

"Oh, I'm sure she'll try," she replies, slightly passive aggressive and with a smile that feels too forced. And she'll fail, Sylvie adds in her head.

She doesn't mean to be so bitter but even after all these years, thinking about the horrible things Harrison made her feel makes her angry beyond measure. Her skin crawls and the feeling gets worse with every second she’s stuck there making conversation with him.

"Yeah. Well what about you? Find anyone to put up with you yet?" It comes out of Harrison's mouth as a joke, as he elbows her ribs teasingly from across the table. But the physical contact isn't appreciated in the slightest by Sylvie and she knows he's only half kidding. Man. Harrison is an old wound that will always manage to make her bleed just a little.

She thinks about it, and remembers that yes. She actually does have someone to put up with her. Someone who not only puts up with her, but enjoys her, respects her-- loves her. Matt Casey.

The name alone gives her strength and she lets out a deep breath, relaxing. "Yes, I do. Matt. He's wonderful in-- in every way imaginable. I'm very lucky."

"You two married?"

"No, not yet. We're taking things slow. But we're partners, equals. We don't need a marriage license to tell us that."

Harrison bites his inner cheek at the subtle digs hidden in her words. She knows he'd never seen her as an equal, that he'd only wanted to marry Sylvie so he could have more control over her. Someone to cook, someone to clean. Back then, it'd made Sylvie feel like pulling her hair out and crying. Now, all it does it make her appreciate her new life even more. That Sylvie is gone, and the people she's surrounded herself with now are beautiful inside and out. Harrison's momentary return to Chicago won't change that.

Eventually, Sylvie is freed from the hellhole of a social situation and Harrison has to leave-- something about cake testing, he'd told her, which she'd subtly rolled her eyes at.

That night, Matt knocks at her door. They'd already planned for a relaxing date night staying inside-- he'd even agreed to watch some Studio Ghibli movies with her, which she'd been excited about. But the afternoon's interaction with Harrison had sort of thrown her and when she answers the door and lets him in, it doesn't take long for Matt to see that something's off with her.

"Hey," he says, holding up a thick bottle. "I bought the rose you like for tonight, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect," she nods, smiling only partly genuinely. It really does make her happy, the fact that he'd remembered what kind of rose she likes, but her mind is elsewhere. It's in the past, replaying snapshots of her life in Fowlerton and how miserable she was.

"You okay?"

Matt's already in the apartment, pulling off his jacket and putting down the wine.

But god. He's standing there, looking at her cheerfully, albeit a little curiously. He can tell something's wrong but that soft and kind look on his face reminds her of everything good about their relationship. He's safe and warm and wonderful, in ways Harrison never could be. The wounds Harrison had left, even now when they're scarred over, feel invisible and pointless when she's around Matt. It overwhelms her for a moment.

She sighs, closes the space between them and wraps her arms around his neck and shoulders. Her head buries into his neck, breathing deeply only once his arms react to the hug by wrapping themselves around her waist.

"What's this for?"

"For being you," she tells him simply, her breath catching onto the skin of his neck.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," she giggles lightly with a sniffle. "I just ran into Harrison today."

"Oh," he exhales. Matt knows all about her past with Harrison, about the awful things he'd made her feel. He'd even had a front row seat to some of it, unfortunately. His shoulders tense up a little, but he holds Sylvie gently.

"I know it's been a long time since all of that stuff went down with him but it has a way of sticking with you, you know? But I sat there the whole time and couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I am to have you. Everything with him was exciting but dangerous and heartbreaking. You're different. You're a good man, Matt Casey," she tells him quietly, referencing Violet's story from last year that she'd eventually told him about. "You've shown me what love can feel like."

He doesn't know what to say at first. She doesn't need to be looking him in the eye to know when he's taken aback by something. But his hands flatten over her back, rubbing circles on it before moving to kiss her on the head. "You've shown me what love can feel like," he echoes. Not because he has to, not in the way you tell people you're good when they ask you how you are just out a reflex, but because he really means it. To Sylvie, that's beautiful.

#fanfic prompts #drabble prompts that aren’t drabbles anymore #abby writes #brettsey #daily reminder that FUCK Harrison :))))))

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart.

Part One - Part Two

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish.

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked.

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet.

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand.

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you.

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile.

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones.

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you.

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious.

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language.

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!”

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español … para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...”

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim.

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!”

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....”

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life.

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold.

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room. The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia.

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used.

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted. Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform.

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line.

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English. You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly. He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair.

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?” She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister.

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room.

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual.

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way.

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause.

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it. He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody. Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors.

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours.

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt.

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA. As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil.

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted.

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. .

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.”

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you.

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise.

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch.

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression.

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes. “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes.

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?”

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission.

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue.

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared. Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh.

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck.

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met. He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away.

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you.

“So, what’d I miss?” Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy.

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath.

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment.

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier.

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning.

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober.

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything.

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it. The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand. “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it. It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it.

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier.

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth.

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally, your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi. “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated.

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!”

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.”

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face.

“Thankyou, Javi.”

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.” After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye.

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it.

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth.

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born.

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned.

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away.

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still.

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…” You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form.

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered.

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever.

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

“You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat.

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger.

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter.

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing.

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers.

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence.

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you.

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy.

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you.

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit. The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair.

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes. You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole.

“So fucking tight, Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard.

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on.

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth.

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh.

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious.

His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies.

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss. He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own.

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard.

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock.

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly.

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him.

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs.

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths.

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you.

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #murphy!reader #FUCKING SMIRK AT ME MORE JAVI I SWEAR TO GOD T-T #pedro pascal x reader

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Falling for you( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Read Chapter 3 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter warning : a little bit of plot just to keep things interesting yeah?

Chapter 4

The washroom on the seventeenth floor was the unofficial gossip hub and normally I would steer clear of that place but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow and I had to get it fixed before I got written up .

Willing myself not to openly flinch with every step, I tried to curb the trembling in my thighs, almost painfully sensitive to how wet and messy my lower half as. What the fuck had I been thinking.

When I entered the restroom, I moved to the huge ornate mirror in the center and took a nice long look at myself.

I felt my throat seize up in shock.

Good God.

I looked ten times worse than I felt. The hair in the back of my head was sticking up , four even gaps from where he’d gripped my hair too tight. Yelping, I pulled on the dozen hairpins holding my hair up in a messy bun, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Panicking , I threaded my fingers through the strands, wincing when I touched my jaw. What the fuck...

I leaned closer, peering at the small abrasion near my chin. It was a bruise, shaped exactly like Jungkook’s thumb. And it was already turning into an ugly shade of puce.

Slightly hysterical because, Hoseok was so incredibly unbending when it came to office etiquette and I did not want to get fired, I flipped at the fancy taps, sticking my hand underneath the cold water and splashing it all over my face.

The door opened behind me and I flinched.

“Oh, hey Areum....” Three of my colleagues walked in . I recognized two of them , Jieun and Hana . The third one looked new.

“Hey...” I croaked out, trying hard not to look like I’d just been fucked to an inch of my life in a supply closet by the boss’ son.

Oh fuck, what the hell was I thinking?

The girls moved to the mirror , spreading out across the long counter and pulling out their compacts and lipsticks . I kept my head down, still trying to calm my pounding heart.

“So let me get this straight, he called you at eleven in the night yesterday and wanted to meet you ? At your apartment?” Hana was saying.

The new girl was blushing as red as a tomato.

“Yeah...he uh... he told me he was just returning from his training. He’s a boxer.” There’s a shy sort of admiration in her voice and I felt an odd sense of foreboding.

“Booty call.... He wanted to fuck you for sure.” Jieun said firmly. “ You’re a lucky bitch, Sana... ”

Sana.....

My fingers started trembling when I heard the familiar name. I tried to calm myself down but it was impossible . A red hot sort of rage began licking its way up my spine. It wasn’t new. I knew he fucked other people. We both did.

but I’d never stood within two feet of one of his conquests.

“ Yeah...but then he called me like an hour later and said he wasn’t coming around.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction.

Jungkook had cancelled because of the pic I’d sent him.

“Maybe he thought he wanted more.... like you told me he asked you to come meet him at practice tomorrow right? To get coffee afterwards... ? Maybe he wants to do this properly....take you out on dates...get to know you....”

I couldn’t stay there a second longer.

“Ladies...” I bowed quickly and they offered me cheerful smiles. I all but ran out of the restroom, hating the sharp sting of tears somewhere near my lashes.

I stumbled to the back stairwell, which was mostly unused and usually deserted. Gripping the walls, I slid down to sit on the floor, drawing my knees up to bury my face in.

There was a reason I didn’t do public sex, I thought, shaking. Despite the way I mouthed off at Jungkook, sex with him always took a toll and I had always, always made sure I had space and time to recover from it. Gripping my thighs and trying to fight the urge to whine, I fumbled with my phone.

“Areum?”

“Can I have the day off?” I whispered, shaking a little.

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice sounded genuinely worried and I hummed.

“ Got my period.” I said blankly.

“ Gotchu. I’ll fill up the form and get one of the interns to pack your stuff up. You need to get some meds or something? Need a ride home?”

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This is why Hoseok was such a great HR manager. He genuinely cared.

“ I don’t need a ride. Or anything else.” I said quickly, “I’ll take a cab...”

There was a slight shuffling and then, an altogether familiar and unwelcome voice in the background went.

“Who’s that?”

Oh fuck. What the hell was he doing there?

“Areum...hang on, Jungkook’s here....he wants to talk to you...” Hoseok said quickly and before I could protest , I heard Jungkook’s low raspy exhale against my ears.

“Where are you?” He said shortly.

I considered protesting but remembered that Hoseok was still there.

“ The back stairwell... I... I’ll come there , I...”

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you.”

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stayed on the floor, staring stright at the opposite wall. I forced myself not to think, trying to take deep breaths. The truth was I was exhausted. Physically and otherwise.

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what Id’ heard in the restroom. Was Jungkook interested in Sana? Meeting him at practice? Coffee?

That just screamed dating to me. I’d always assumed that Jungkook wasn’t into dating. That he just enjoyed quick fucks because that’s all he had ever offered me. So maybe, it wasn’t because Jungkook didn’t want to date. It was because Jungkook didn’t want to date me.

Which was fine. I didn’t want to date him either. I really didn’t .

“Hey....you okay?”

I had to inhale shakily, just to bring myself to look at him. I felt my heart ache something fierce because he was kneeling in front of me, strands of hair falling into doe back eyes. Eyes that fairly glistened with genuine concern. There was no infuriating smirk or haughty smile....instead his lips were parted in genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed in worry and one hand resting on my knee , fingers just so unfamiliarly gentle.

I stared at him for another second and smiled evenly.

“Guess I’m gonna be needing that wheelchair after all.” I quipped.

He stared at me for a second before his face split in a wide grin, a genuine bark of laughter spilling out of him. He looked so carefree and unabashed that I bit my lips, staring at him some more.

“Let’s get you home , yeah?”

I nodded, letting him grip my arm to help me up.

“It’s okay. I can walk... “ I said softly and he hummed, but still kept an arm around me and I noticed that he had my handbag slung on the other shoulder.

We reached the elevator and rode down in silence .

I followed him to the basement parking and he fumbled with the smart key to his car , pointing in the direction of the multitude of cars and I watched one of the flashy red ones blink.

“Let’s go to my place...., yeah?” He said casually and I groaned.

“Jungkook, I know this going to make your ego swell but I’m not joking when I say that I cannot physically take your dick at least for another couple of days.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you, God. I’m working on a project for the Art Fest down at the Museum and I’m staying home. You can rest there....” He said casually, moving to put his seat belt on. He fixed the mirrors by prodding a few buttons and I watched the tattoos on his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel, one arm coming around the headrest of my seat so he could turn and back out of the lot carefully.

I frowned at the broad shoulders near my face. .

“Why would I rest there? I have a home....” I protested , watching him hold the door open for me.

“Because I know for a fact that , it being Monday, both your sister and your mother are supposed to be coming over today to cook and clean for you because you have no life skills, “ He grinned and I glared at him, “ . They’ll probably notice the limp and I just thought I’d spare you the humiliation.”

I didn’t respond because he was right. My mom and sister were home and it would be impossible to get any rest with them around. The fact that Jungkook somehow knew this made me feel jittery and nervous though.

“You have a fight this weekend?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He kept his eyes on the road, sparing me just one questioning glance.

“How’d you know?” He asked curiously and I bit my lips.

I’ve been following your boxing career for a three years.

“ Just heard someone say something at the office...” I said vaguely.

“You aren’t invited.” He said sharply and I gripped the seats, annoyed.

“I don’t want to be there anyway.” I snapped back.

He huffed.

“I’m serious about what I do Areum... I don’t want you interfering in that part of my life, alright? We’ve been through this before.”

I sneered at that.

“I know....isn’t that why you literally banned me from your gym. “

He didn’t reply and I stared at my hands.

He had invited that girl, though, my mind supplied helpfully.

He invited her not only to the gym, to watch him practice, but also for coffee afterwards...you know...to get to know her better....probably because she’s not the kind of girl who would spread her legs as easily as you do.....

I stared out of the window, remembering how pretty and put together Sana had looked. The dainty walk, the perfect make up and the long hair, styled perfectly.

I was beautiful too. Of course I was and I knew it.

Men like Jungkook didn’t go for unattractive women even if it was for a quick lay. But, there’s beauty and then there’s actual charm? I wasn’t charming in any sense of the word. But then, did I have to be charming and attractive and perfect to go see him fight?

Why?

What about the other people there? If literally anyone could go watch him fight, why wasn’t I allowed?

“I want to come watch you train....” I said impulsively, my anger getting the better of me.

Jungkook turned to give me a shocked stare.

“What? Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I shrugged.

“No reason.” I said shortly. I could physically feel his irritation build.

“Areum....” He began , voice holding a note of warning but I refused to back down.

“Literally anyone can visit your gym. You own the thing and you love offering discounts to everyone you meet...and yet somehow, I’m ‘ banned’. Why?” I demanded.

“Because I don’t want you there...That’s a good enough reason for me.” He snapped back and I clenched my fists harder.

“Well, sucks for you. I’m gonna be there. On the front row. Let me see what’s so great about Jeon Jungkook in the ring that drives women wild...” I scoffed.

He stared at me for a second and then chuckled.

“Ahh..... so you just wanna watch me get wet and sweaty.... ? Understandable.”

I sneered.

“You have been wet and sweaty on top of me enough times and trust me the novelty has long worn off.”

He groaned.

“It genuinely feels like anytime I try to be halfway decent human being to you, you repay me by being as annoying as you can....” He said thoughtfully and I couldn’t say anything to that.

i flinched when his hand reached out, moving to my knees and squeezing /lightly.

“What are you doing?” I frowned slapping at his fingers and he merely moved his hand higher up my thigh. I flinched when he squeezed again.

“The only time you’re remotely bearable is when I’m touching you....So I’m gonna keep my hand here...” He gave me a smug grin, eyes practically dancing with mirth and I grimaced.

“I’m still going to come. I want to.” I said firmly.

He didn’t argue further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to my surprise , I slept away the better part of the day, buried in Jungkook’s soft white sheets , head pillowed in the dozen fluffy throws he kept around. It was vaguely arousing that someone so intensely masculine like Jungkook preferred a comfortable , soft toned bedroom. The sheets smelled exactly like him, a fresh citrusy scent that managed to be soothing and sweet and yet somehow seductively warm as well.

I woke up to fingers in my hair, lightly stroking. The room was dim, a little bit of light from the streets spilling in through the gaps between the curtains.

“Areum.... It’s almost eight.... I’m gonna order us something for dinner... You wanna wake up now?”

His voice. Fuck.

I rolled over , groggy and disoriented. My eyes took in the splendor that was Jeon Jungkook, taking in the fact that he was only wearing grey sweatpants . I stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling arousal bloom , slow and steady all over me.

“I wanna suck you off...” I croaked out before I could fully filter my own thoughts.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that.

“I’m not gonna say no to that, but why don’t you take a shower and wake up fully.

I shook my head.

“ Let’s get messy first..... we can shower later...” I whined, still blinking and he groaned, slipping into the bed with me, under the covers, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up till I was on him, my chin resting on his chest as I stared at his beautiful face.

What am I doing here? Where is this leading?

“I’ve never seen you like this. “ He commented mildly.

“Like what?”

“Sleepy and horny....Usually you‘re just angry and horny.”

I shook my head.

“I should go.” I said hesitantly.. Jungkook didn’t respond for a few seconds, merely staring at me with a blank look on his face. Then he gave me a slight squeeze around my waist and moved out from under me. .

“I can call you a cab...” He said simply, moving to get up off the bed again. I felt something jump in my throat . It was unlike him to acquiesce so fast, and it was unlike us to just.... hang out without mutual orgasms thrown in the mix and somehow that felt like a change I wasn’t ready for. A bit of panic flashed through and I reached out blindly when he stood up, grabbing his waist and yanking him closer.

I looked up at him, scooting to the edge of the bed and kneeling till I was right in front of him.

Eager to get things back to normal, I smiled and casually, pressed both my hands behind my back, looping my fingers together at the base of my spine.

“Get those handcuffs.”

Jungkook’s dick literally twitched in his pants and he swore.

“Fuck baby....” He grabbed my face roughly, crashing his lips over mine. I kissed back, almost desperate, trying to remember all the reasons why he annoyed me, why this was all we were to each other. A quick fuck, a quick lay, fuck buddies. that's what we were......

“Stay here. Stay right here...Don’t fucking move.” He pulled back and dove for his bed stand. I watched as he pulled out a silky black tie.

I grinned when he nearly fell, scrambling up on the bed and pushing up behind me. He grabbed the hem of my blouse, yanking it up over my head before grabbing my wrists together again , tying them swiftly behind me.

“Only you...” He whispered against the back of my neck. “ Only you can do this to me. Drive me wild with want just by fucking existing....”

And then he was lying down near me, grabbing my waist and jostling me around till I was straddling his waist. It took me a second to orient myself I managed to steady myself, staring down at him in surprise.

“ Seeing as you said you needed a break from my dick, how about you come sit on my face, today?” He smirked.

I tested the give on my hands, before carefully leaning down to him

“Sure you have the lung capacity for this , Jeon?” I whispered, lips brushing his as I spoke.

He responded by gripping my waist hard, easily lifting me up till i was straddling his shoulders.

“I’m ready to drown in that sweet sweet honeypot, baby...” He winked and it was such a ridiculously bad joke that the laughter got wrenched out of me.

And just like that , we were back to being us again. Or at least, that's what I convinced myself of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THOUGHT ....I WANTED THIS TO BE JUST PORN BUT APPARTENTLY I CANT WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT ANGST FML.

Also requests open :)

#bts fanfics #bts smut #bts #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics

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