#coffee frequently select

[saltinesinsoup]

ohoho fighting the seasonal depression and probable burnout from all of the work i have by planning to visit a cafe this weekend to get some work done

[superbat-love]

AU where Bruce is the proud owner and operator of a cafe known as the go-to spot for the finest coffee in the quaint college town. While majority of the patrons sing its praises, a select few who have unwittingly incurred Bruce's ire find themselves less enchanted.

Bruce's children often frequent the cafe for study sessions, occasionally accompanied by potential partners who are unknowingly subjected to Bruce’s experimental concoctions known as "contingency coffees."

One day, Dick brings Clark to the cafe. Clark greets Bruce warmly, unfazed by the seething look he receives in return. After thanking the man for the cup of coffee slammed onto the counter in front of him, Clark joins Dick at their table.

While he was tutoring Dick, Clark can't help but occasionally peek at Bruce over his cup of coffee spiced with Carolina Reaper peppers. As they left the cafe, Clark thanked Bruce once again for the delicious coffee, much to his chagrin.

Clark becomes a regular visitor, ordering the same special coffee each time. Though initially infuriated by Clark's presence, Bruce begrudgingly tolerates him upon realizing Clark's lack of romantic interest in his son.

Clark frequently lingers near the counter, making earnest attempts to engage the reserved owner in conversation. He treasures Bruce's brief, one-word responses as if they were pearls of wisdom. “What a strange man,” Bruce thought as he served Clark his coffee alongside a spicy chocolate jalapeno cake.

Clark’s order, dubbed the ‘Clark Combo’, becomes a secret menu item for the most adventurous customers.

[tlou-reid]

All of the Books Beside Your Bed ✿ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: Spencer can’t help but save the day after your weekend plans are ruined

♡ WARNINGS: gross disgusting fluff, mention of a book that talks about nazi propaganda but it’s the same book that was mentioned in the show, a steamy kiss, reader really goes through it mentally in the beginning

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Everyone could tell you were in a bit of a sour mood. Working with profilers upwards of 9 hours a day (and that was an easy day), made it hard for subtleties to go unnoticed.

The team caught on to the lack of jokes passed around the bullpen, the way you huffed when you sat down after getting each cup of coffee, and they definitely noticed the scowl that had been etched across your face all day.

“What’s got sunshine all cranky today?” Derek asked, posing the question to Penelope and JJ in the break room. “We’re not sure, she’s been awfully quiet today,” JJ informs, looking long-fully at your desk, where you angrily shaking your keyboard, tired of the delay when you were typing.

All three of them watch as Spencer slides his chair around, “Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, moving to grab your arm. “It’s not working!” You huff, moving back so Spencer can work his magic. Derek, Penelope, and JJ can’t hear the rest, but they see you relax as Spencer shows you how much better your keyboard is working.

The three disperse, settling back in to finish the paperwork assigned for the day. If all goes well, they’ll get their weekend off. So, everyone was locked in.

Everyone except you. And, oddly enough, Spencer.

The rest of the team had noticed the surface level differences, but Spencer saw you on a different level. He noticed that you started picking at your fingers after you went outside to eat lunch. He noticed when you turned down the brightness of your desktop computer. He noticed the lack of your usual, rotating choice of a novel resting on your desk.

Spencer wasn’t saying he was a better profiler than the rest of the team; he just tended to notice the little things. Especially about you. You were one of his friends, after all.

You weren’t sure why your day was crawling by. You were aware of why you were in such a poor mood, but the only thing that could make it better would be to get off of work and head home. It was silly to be so angry over something so trivial, but you really did plan your weekend around going to the library tomorrow morning.

Your weekend plans surrounded the book you were going to spend hours selecting. Going to the library was something you looked forward to every week, and you knew Hotch has plans with Beth this weekend, so chances were there would be no case and you could truly enjoy your time. You wanted to make a nice dinner for yourself tonight, curl up and watch a movie, and then head to bed.

Tomorrow, you were looking forward to getting up and doing your makeup, browsing around the library until your heart was content, grab lunch with Penelope, and then going home to read in the bathtub. You couldn’t have been more excited.

But your plans were quickly ruined. The library you frequented had sent an email to all its patrons, informing them they the library would be closed until further notice, due to a water pipe that was underground breaking. It had completely ruined your mood for the whole day. And it was continually getting worse with each little inconvenience. You left your notebook at home, when you passed Morgan a file you had given yourself a paper cut, your lunch was soggy, and now your computer was acting up. There was no winning for you today.

“Thank you,” you tried your best to be kind to Spencer, he always tried to help you. “Just try not to smash the keys again,” he teased as he slid his chair back to his desk. “I make no promises.” You mumbled.

Spencer spent a good majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to ask why you were in such a bad mood without making it any worse. He continued to notice how your mood steadily declined, even as the people in the bullpen started to head home. “Is something wrong?” He settled on, after you threw your head back in agitation. You couldn’t help the way tears started to form in your eyes, all the emotions from the awful day spilling over, as you laid your head down on the desk.

No matter how much Emily loved you, she took this as a sign to head home, leaving just you and Spencer. As the glass door to the BAU closed, Spencer made his way to your desk, crouching right down. He rested his arm close to you, wondering if he should rub circles on your back like JJ does for him when he’s upset.

“Hey,” he cooed in that soft voice he only used with people who were vulnerable, “what’s going on?” Being entirely overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and being engulfed by Spencer’s being had your mind going fuzzy, not allowing you to properly articulate the struggles you’d been facing. “The whole thing just crashed,” you mumbled your most recent misfortune into your arm, doing your best to hold back sobs that were threatening to come through.

“Have you reopened it?” Spencer questioned, springing into action to come up with a solution. You shook your head as more tears fell. “Can I sit there?” He asked, needing your limp body out of his way so he could help you. You nodded again, trying your best to wipe your eyes before lifting yourself up and moving to lean against your desk. “Are you crying?” Spencer couldn’t help himself from asking, very ungracefully.

You simply nodded, turning your head away. Spencer’s cheeks turned red, realizing how inconsiderate he sounded despite just wanting to help make things better for you. He turned his attention back to your computer, easily recovering the file you’d been working on. “There you go. You might’ve lost some work, but it recovered to six minutes ago. I can help you catch up, if you want.” He offers, wanting to recover from his uncouth comment earlier.

You sniffled, “I think I just want to go home.” Spencer nodded, moving out of your chair to allow you to pack your things. “Hold on,” he mumbles to himself, moving back into your desk space. He saved your file, opened your email, and sent it to himself. “What are you doing?” You questioned, rubbing your eyes. “I can finish it for you tonight. We worked on the geographical profile together, so I got it.” Spencer smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Thank you, Spence.” You said with a breath of relief. “It’s no problem at all. I can tell you’ve had a hard day, I just want to make it easier for you.”

Spencer’s simple heartfelt concern for you sent your waterworks over the edge. You couldn’t help yourself as the tears fell, staining your tired cheeks with dark streams of mascara. You couldn’t imagine how goofy you looked, but every emotion was hitting you all at once. You didn’t know how to control it. It was all just too much.

Spencer cooed your name, not hesitating to put a gentle hand over your crossed arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was unusually soft, trying his best to create a safe space for you.

You nodded your head, wanting to share but struggling to express all of your hardships. It was as if your throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe and impossible to talk. Spencer could see this written across your face, hesitating for one second before pulling you into his chest. “Shh,” he comforted as one hand ran up and down your back and the other held you close, “it’s okay.”

You weren’t sure how long you two stood like that. Spencer continued to whisper sweet affirmations to you, really just wanting you to feel better. His concern for germs and the stains that could appear on his lilac button up shirt were far away, not circling his mind. All he could focus on was getting you to calm down. He waited patiently for your sobs to slow down and your shoulders to relax.

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry,” you apologized. For everything. For how silly you looked, for crying, for the dark spot on his shirt, everything.

“No need.” He dismissed your attempt, “do you want to talk about it now?” You once again nodded, leaning back against your desk. You were more relaxed now that you had let out your feelings. Still, you felt somehow even sillier as your biggest problem escaped your lips, “I really just wanted to go the library tomorrow.”

Spencer’s face scrunched up, expecting a much more catastrophic reason behind your emotional outburst. You saw the confusion written across his face and went into a deeper explanation. “I had my whole weekend planned out, and the highlight of it was going to the library tomorrow morning. I got an email that said it’s closed indefinitely because of a plumbing issue. And then all the computer issues and my lunch was ruined and it’s just been all around a shitty day. And I can’t even go home and relax like I wanted to because the fucking library is closed.”

Spencer nodded at your angry rambling, happy you were past the crying part of your frustration. He was a bit shocked at your foul language, knowing it wasn’t a common thing for you. His brain moved on quickly, recognizing he had a solution to your problem. “Why don’t you come to my house?”

It was your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion, not understanding what he was proposing. This instantly launched Spencer into an awkward recovery rambling, “I mean, I have a lot of books. Not as much as the public library, as the average library has over 100,000 books, most of which are general fiction, although some would argue that young adult fiction is more common,” he took a breath and attempted to move on from his side track, “I have a fraction of that, but more than the average person. I bet you could find something to read from my collection.” He concluded.

Your entire mood changed as he finished his proposition. It was amazing that he could come up with such a practical solution to such a ridiculous problem, and it was even more amazing how quickly he did. Spencer was welcoming you into his home, allowing you to borrow a book, which you knew were precious to him. He was being so caring, so kind.

“Spencer,” you said, with the amount of awe and adoration you were feeling dripping through, “that is so nice.”

Your sweet tone as you said his name had Spencer’s knees feeling weak. The way you said his name sounded so sweet, like you dripping ooey gooey honey from your mouth.

His cheeks turned red, “it’s nothing. I just don’t want to see you crying again.” You nodded, making a mental note to do your best not to cry in the bullpen anymore. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Spencer immediately nodded, “of course it is. I’ll send you my address.” The smile that adorned your face contrasted sharply with the tears stains on your cheek, but he was so happy to see it.

“Thank you so much,” you said one last time, before packing up your bag to head home.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t set your alarm a little bit early so you’d have more than enough to get ready. You justified it by telling yourself that this was your day, you just wanted to feel as good as possible. Sure, going to Spencer’s house had absolutely nothing to do with it.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you climbed into the car, turning on your favorite song and started making your way to the local cafe you and Emily frequented. You knew Spencer liked his drinks sweet, so you did your best to pick out something he’d like, and then hopped back in your car and continued your drive to his home.

It didn’t take long to get there, thankfully. You didn’t want to hand him a cold coffee.

“Hello,” he greeted after you shyly knocked on his door. He was dressed in a FBI branded hoodie and a pair of jeans. You guessed he was only dressed because of your presence, judging by how lackluster his outfit was compared to the button ups, ties, and cardigans he wore to work.

“I don’t think I can say thank you enough, so I bought a coffee to show my appreciation.” Your smile grew tenfold when his eyes lit up at the small cup in your hand. “I told you, it’s no problem. But, thank you for the coffee.” He nodded as he took it from you and opened the door wider, allowing you to step into his apartment.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting it too look like, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the real thing was much more grand than anything your imagination could’ve conjured up. Green walls with dark wood molding, a beautifully worn leather couch, bookcases full of books and DVDs of his favorite tv shows. It was so incredibly Spencer, and easily the coziest place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Not even the cluttered stacks of books that adorned parts of the floor and coffee table could take away from the beauty that is Spencer Reid’s apartment.

“Wow, Spence,” you sighed in awe, glancing around the space, “your home is beautiful.” Spencer blushed, ushering you to step farther in. “I’m sorry to be a pain, but could you take your shoes off? I don’t want to track the outside in.” You understood what he meant and nodded, knowing it would save him a lot of mysophobia-induced worry.

“Do you want a tour?” Spencer inquired, setting his cup down on the coffee table. You excitedly nodded, wanting nothing more than to explore his space. He moved towards the left-most bookshelf in his living room, “This is all non-fiction, organized with my very own Dewey decimal system,” he gloated. It was easily to tell that Spencer was proud of his book collection, rightfully so. “The rest of them,” he gestured to two more shelves on the left side of his RCA brand television, “are fiction. They’re organized by author, so you should feel right at home when you’re browsing.”

You nodded excitedly. You couldn’t wait to sort through his mountains of novels.

“This TV is probably older than you,” he quickly breezed over it, “and this is the start of my disc collection. It’s just my favorites right now, Doctor Who, a few soap operas and a couple French films.” You nodded along as he made his list. “This is where my records go, and the occasional CD. I prefer physical media, as opposed to streaming.” That factoid made sense for Spencer.

“There’s a chess table over there, my couch, and the kitchen. My room and the bathroom are down the hall.” Your eyes scanned the room one last time, completely and utterly impressed. “I love it, Spencer. I can only imagine how good it feels to come home to this.” Spencer’s cheeks turned red, not used to being showered in compliments like this.

“Um,” he took a second to collect himself, “I’ve read all of the ones on the shelves, so if you need summaries or reviews I’ll be here. This stack,” he points to the one next to the couch, “are my newest ones, but you are more than welcome to any of them. And this one,” he points to the one next to the chess table, “are ones I am planning to donate, so you are welcome to keep them if you’d like.”

You nodded at his words again, practically ripping at the seams with excitement. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how long you’d been smiling.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spencer remarked, reaching for his coffee cup. He wanted to make sure he was honoring your previous weekend plans, allowing you to browse his home library to your heart’s content. He wouldn’t go far, just to the kitchen, so you could have your space.

Before you could stop yourself you were calling out a hurried, “wait!” You stopped, almost if you’d shocked yourself with your remark. You couldn’t help yourself. You felt like you wanted him, no, needed him around. As if the beauty and the warmth and the coziness of his home would dampen by his departure. You stuttered a bit, trying to justify your interruption. “Do you have any recommendations?” was the best you could come up with.

As if he didn’t notice how much higher your voice had gotten, Spencer’s back straightened up and his eyes widen with joy. “I do!” He cheered, heading over to his shelves of fiction books. “This is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury,” he didn’t even have to look before pulling it down, “it’s a number of stories tied together with a narrative about a man whose tattoos tell stories.” Spencer moved to the coffee table, setting it down right in the middle.

“This one,” he moves back to the shelf, “is called Mother Night. It’s about the conflicted emotions of a Nazi propagandist who doesn’t believe in the propaganda.” Spencer places this book right on top of the previous one.

He does this a few more times, until you have your own stack of books he’d picked out for you. You couldn’t help but notice how your pile fit like a missing puzzle piece in his world of books.

“And this one,” Spencer starts for the fifth or sixth time, but takes a second to glance at you. He realizes quickly that you’re no longer paying attention to the summaries he’s providing. Instead, your attention is turned to the pile of books he’d been creating. For the third time since you arrived, his face is read with embarrassment. He’d been rambling. For far too long. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, moving to return the books to the shelves, “you wanted to browse. I just love books, and I wanted to make sure you found something you like! I didn’t mean to start rambling.”

You’re easily broken out of your trance, quickly pulled away from your imaginations of your own novels mixed in with his on these shelves. “No!” You said, stepping closer to him, “I loved your recommendations, Spencer!” You reassured him, reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay, I promise. I like listening to you talk.” You successfully rendered him speechless, creating a momentary lag in brain. You were so close to him, complimenting his rambles and being interested in his opinions. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the sparkles in your eyes.

“I don’t mean to come on too strong or anything, but if you want to, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Spencer whispered into the delicate space between you. You simply nodded, too enamored with the moment to say anything. His right hand came to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His touch was feather-light and his lips tasted like sugar, definitely from the coffee you’d given him.

The kiss was a few seconds long, filled with nothing but sickly sweet puppy love.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “anytime, Spence.” He let out a light laugh as well.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling you back into him, taking up on your ‘anytime’ offer. This kiss was filled with sweetness, just as last one was. His hands moved to waist, making sure you were flush against him.

You reciprocated, just wanting to be close to him. Your hands moved upwards, entangling themselves into his hair, as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. You smiled against his lips, breaking the ever-growing tension in the room.

When you two pulled away, you found yourself marveling at Spencer. He just looked so pretty, with his now tussled hair and slightly swollen lips. You wished you could commit this sight to memory, just as he was doing to you. While he never had to try, Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer, making sure his eidetic memory was doing its job, before he spoke.

“I know you had plans for your weekend, but I’d love to take you on a date, if you’d like.” Spencer stumbled through his proposal, trying to find the words. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of trouble to get to this point.” You joked, sending both of you into a fit a laughter. “C’mon,” you stepped away from him as you moved closed to the door, “let’s go grab lunch.”

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

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[munsonhoneybaby]

Sweet Leaf | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: Finally starting to spend time with Eddie outside of your bedroom, everybody seems to know about the two of you but Dustin. 

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, eddie’s never-ending pet names, frequent drug use (marijuana), smut, lots of high sex in the whole series idk what to tell you lol, tiny bit of dry humping, eddie’s fishnet fetish?, skinny dipping, fingering, p in v (unprotected but he pulls out), sex in an empty parking lot, squirting, pretty heavy subspace, not angst but crying after sex, eddie’s a little fucknasty sometimes but he worships his lady, cheesy ahh ending

A/N: just two emotionally damaged stoners trying to figure out how to love each other, what more can i say? the length of this one just kept getting away from me lol i’ve loved writing this series and even though the main storyline is over i’d love to keep writing about these two if anybody sends in blurb/headcanon requests or anything like that !! i had plenty of little ideas i had to leave out !!

part one | part two | tmic masterlist

Eddie paused in the mirror, fixing the hair laying on his forehead. He fidgeted with his shirt, trying to get it to sit right on his shoulders– it was an old Kill ‘Em All t-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off of ages ago. He huffed and did one more frantic scan of his bedroom, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides as he was sure there had to be something he’d missed. Bed made, laundry done, and messes cleared away, his room looked cleaner than he’d seen it in probably two years. Deciding it wasn’t gonna get any cleaner in the next fifteen minutes, he dashed down the short hallway to double-check that the living room was spotless.

He’d draped the nicest blanket they had over the back of the couch and even specifically bought a few candles to light around the room just for the occasion. A few pre-rolled joints sat out on the coffee table alongside the selection of horror movies that Steve definitely didn’t let him sneak out of Family Video for free; he wanted to give you options, so he settled on The Thing, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining, and The Evil Dead. He would have happily taken you to see a movie, maybe even a drive-in, but you’d said you’d rather it be just the two of you.

Three knocks sounded at the door, making him jump. You were four minutes earlier than he expected. Stepping to the door, he glanced around the room again and blew out a heavy breath before he opened it.

And there you were. Black shorts peeking out under your baggy Dio tee and a bag of snacks in hand from the gas station a couple miles off, you smiled at him. “Hi.”

Eddie couldn’t help his cheesy grin as he replied, “Hey.” Something about you was so enrapturing to him. He could have just stared at you, standing in the afternoon sunlight shining on his doorstep, forever.

“You gonna let me in?”

“Oh! Uh– right.” He moved aside, opening the door wider. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, but uh–”

“Oh, knock it off. I don’t care about that shit.” You looked around, taking in the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls. The warm light outside made the closed mismatched curtains glow. “I think it’s perfect.”

He cleared his throat to overcome the warmth in his chest before he spoke. “I got a few different movies if you wanna pick.”

“Ooh, can we watch The Shining? It’s been a little while since I’ve seen it, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Sure thing,” He nodded. As he turned on the TV and put the tape in the VHS player, you found a seat on the couch and grabbed a joint off the table to light up. While you seemed totally at ease in his trailer, he was as nervous as the first time he met you. First date jitters, he supposed. You looked so comfortable curled up and smoking in the corner of his couch that, as he settled at the opposite end, he couldn’t help but feel like you belonged there.

Your legs stretched into his lap as you scooted down a bit to pass him the joint. He rubbed his free hand back and forth along your calf absentmindedly. “I don’t know how long you were planning on staying– if you wanna stick around after this movie, I could make a frozen pizza and we could watch another or something.”

“Sounds good to me,” You hummed in return.

Forty-five minutes into the movie, the first joint was gone and Eddie was focused intently on the television screen. You started to get fidgety though, foot nudging against his thigh. “What’d you sit so far away for?”

“I dunno, just thought I’d give you your space I guess? I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“C’mere.” Pinching at his shirt, you tugged until he scooted himself to you. Your legs lay completely over his lap as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I don’t need space, I came here to be with you. It’s cute you’re taking this whole ‘first date’ thing so seriously, though.”

His cheeks flushed a little pink and he fiddled with his rings over your lap. “Sorry, I just– I want this to go well.” He laughed nervously as he continued, “I want to keep seeing you outside your bedroom, y’know? I want you to come to my shows, and I wanna take you to the diner, and I wanna kiss you goodbye after Hellfire sessions.”

You gave him a little smile, turning his face toward you to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I wanna do that stuff too, Eds. You know that you mean something to me, right? I just wanna go slow in the Dustin department. He has to be okay with this.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded instantly, “However you wanna go about it. I swear, I’ll even ask the little loudmouth for his blessing when you want me to. I mean, I love that kid too.”

For a split second you just took in his features, and those big, earnest eyes were impossible not to believe. The material of his shirt scrunched between your fingers as you drew his lips to yours again. “Thank you for being there for him. And for me. You don’t know how much it means.”

He brushed a strand of hair back from your face with a little smile. “I think I do, sweetheart.”

“Hey, so where’s your sister?” Mike asked, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “She’s like…always home.”

“I don’t know,” Dustin frowned, “I guess she just told Mom she was going out. Maybe I should call Robin and ask if she’s with her.”

“Dude, she’s an adult,” Lucas shook his head slightly. “She probably doesn’t need you to check in on her, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“But what if she isn’t?” As he continued, he paced the length of the basement, hands gesturing wildly with his words. “And what is she doing? ‘Going out’? What does that mean? Why is she trying to hide where she’s going? What if it’s somewhere sketchy?”

“You need to calm down,” Mike insisted. “It really isn’t that serious, she’s probably with Robin and Steve or something.”

“Right, so I should just call Robin and make sure!”

Lucas still rolled his eyes, but Dustin was already dashing up the stairs to the phone. “Great, now he’s gonna lose it if she’s not with Robin.”

“Where else would she be?”

“Literally anywhere, man. She could be at the record store, or with Nancy, or maybe with...”

“You don’t think she could be with Eddie–” But Mike was cut off by footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“She’s not with Robin, Steve, or Nancy which means I’m out of people to call which means I’m officially concerned. Do you think we should go out and start checking places? I mean, what if she smoked like– like– bad weed or something? I don’t know how that stuff works! Why wouldn’t she tell me where she’s going? She should know I’m worried sick!”

“Oh my god, would you relax? Did you talk to your mom?”

“Well, of course she thinks everything’s fine! She trusts us both implicitly when she obviously shouldn’t!”

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath before he looked at him. “I seriously think you’re overreacting. Like Lucas said, she’s an adult; she doesn’t have to tell you everything. She’s allowed to have a life.”

Having returned to his pacing, Dustin halted and looked at him with an offended expression. “Are you trying to say I’m clingy? I’m not clingy!”

“I’m not saying you’re clingy! I’m just saying that you do your own shit, she probably does her own shit too. Maybe she’s taking time to herself or maybe she’s out with a guy or something.”

“There’s no way she’s out with a guy. She would tell me if there was a guy! And where would she even meet a guy? Work? She barely talks to anyone, you guys know that!” Mike and Lucas shared a glance before looking in different directions.

“Look, if she’s not home in an hour we’ll go check a couple places, alright?” Lucas finally sighed.

“An hour? It’s already a quarter after nine!” Then they heard the front door close and Dustin was racing back up the stairs. There you stood, kicking off your shoes beside everyone else’s, a smile on your face that you were trying to bite back. Until your brother and his friends burst out of the basement. “And where on Earth have you been?”

You looked at him questioningly. “Enjoying my day off?”

“By yourself? Until nine-thirty at night?” He placed his hands on his hips, scanning you with a scrutinizing gaze. “What were you doing?”

“What’s with the third degree? I stopped at the bookstore, then I went out in the woods and read for a while. Is that okay, Mom?”

“Don’t condescend to me, you had me worried half to death!”

As you replied, you ruffled his hair. “Aw, well that’s very sweet, Dusty. I’m fine though, you don’t need to wait up for me.”

“See? We told you there was nothing to worry about,” Mike chimed. When he and Lucas gave each other another pointed look, however, he knew they’d both seen the faint hickey peeking out from your shirt collar that Dustin had apparently missed.

“Goodnight, boys. I’ll make you guys some breakfast in the morning, alright?” They all called back their own goodnights as you headed down the hallway to your bedroom and they made their way back into the basement.

Later that night you were dozing off, still dressed and on top of the blankets, when you jolted back to full consciousness at the sound of the phone ringing in the living room. Grumbling a little under your breath, you rubbed your eyes.

You were halfway down the hall when you heard the basement door creak open, and suddenly you were wide awake. At half past midnight, there was no way anyone other than Eddie was calling and there was definitely no way Dustin could answer that call. Increasing your pace to a slightly-panicked speedwalk until you were in the room with him, you just barely made it to the phone before him. You pressed the receiver into your chest to muffle your voice as you practically whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Dusty, it’s for me.”

“Who is it?”

“Nancy, she wanted to talk about what I got from the bookstore but she was busy with Robin and Steve,” You answered easily. He nodded and yawned out another goodnight before booking it back downstairs. Letting out a relieved exhale, you finally raised the phone to your ear. “Sorry, Dustin almost picked up. Everything okay?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. Everything’s fine. I tried not to call, I swear I did, but–” He laughed a little embarrassedly, “Fuck, when can I see you again?”

“Eddie,” You whispered through a little giggle. “You had to call about that now?”

“I mean, I could always come over so we could talk about it in person instead,” He teased.

“I just left your place three hours ago.”

“Should’a just stayed the night, babe,” He sighed regretfully.

Clutching at non-existent pearls, you replied, “Stay the night? On the first date? Eddie Munson, what kind of girl do you take me for?”

“Of course, sweet thing, you’re right. You could never do anything so scandalous as sharing a bed with me before we’re really goin’ steady.” You could picture that smirk on his face as he spoke. “Guess that means we’ve gotta plan a second date, huh?”

“Guess so,” You hummed. “Have anything in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking,” He began slowly. “Maybe you could come to one of our shows? I know that’s not a super great date idea since I’m gonna be on stage pretty much the whole time and everything, but–”

“No, that sounds great,” You interrupted. “When’re you guys playing next?”

“Friday night at eight.”

“Alright, I’ll see you at The Hideout on Friday then.”

“Alright,” He cooed back playfully. “G’night, baby.”

Standing in front of your open closet, you rustled through all your clothes in indecision. “I don’t know what I should wear.” Nancy, Robin, and Steve sat side by side by side on the edge of your bed, peering into the closet from behind you. The latter opened his mouth to share an opinion but held his tongue as your younger brother leaned in your door.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh– just trying to find something to wear, I’m going out later.” You shrugged off his question and continued shuffling through your hanging shirts.

“Again with this ‘going out’ stuff! With who?”

“Us,” Nancy interjected casually.

“Thought we’d go check out Eddie’s show at The Hideout tonight,” Steve added. “Show him some support since it’s usually just the drunks there.”

Dustin eyed you for a split second but seemed to move on from whatever suspicion he had toward you quickly. “Cool, I’ll let Mike and Lucas know. We were gonna hang at Mike’s, but we can all go to the show together instead.”

“You can’t come, Dusty. That’s not a kid-friendly environment,” You told him apologetically.

“What? Come on! We’re not kids, we’re in high school! We wanna see Eddie perform too, he’s our friend!”

“Oh, so now he’s just your guys’ friend,” Steve chimed. “Before, you were practically begging us to get along.” He stood and crossed the room to ruffle Dustin’s curls. “Seriously, dude, your sister’s right. This place is nothing but adults drinking, I doubt they’d even let you stay if you came in with us.”

“See? Your mother says no,” You confirm. “Sorry, Dustin, really. Maybe we could all do something together as a big group though soon, yeah? All of us and the Hellfire club. We could sit in on a session or take you all to the movies or something, okay?”

He paused, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his undone, patterned overshirt. “That’d actually be pretty cool. You’d do that?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s no problem.” You walked over to give him a side hug before nudging him out the door. “Now beat it, I’ve gotta get ready.” It took another minute or two of brainstorming before you decided to snag Dustin’s Hellfire t-shirt from his laundry basket– thank God you had just done his laundry for him. You thought it’d be the best fan attire since Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly selling merchandise.

Once you were ready to go, Robin called shotgun as the four of you piled into Steve’s car. “Sorry that you guys have to tag along now, but you know how Dustin gets.”

Glancing at you briefly in the rearview mirror, Steve replied, “It’s no big deal. Sorry I told him you were going to see Eddie.”

“It’s fine,” You shook your head. “I wanna lie to him as little as possible anyway, I just haven’t figured out how to bring it up yet.”

“I know he wants you to, but you don’t always have to tell him everything right away,” Robin reminded you. “I mean, what were you gonna tell him– that you were fucking one of his best friends? He doesn’t need to know that. It’s not like you guys are actually together yet–” She was interrupted by a punch in the shoulder from Steve.

He gave her an incredulous look before Nancy took over, reaching over and squeezing your hand. “What she means is, you guys should take your relationship at your own pace and tell Dustin when you think the time is right.”

“Right, that’s exactly what I was gonna say,” Steve added.

Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“What? I was!”

When you were finally standing in the parking lot of The Hideout, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Robin hooked an arm around your shoulders and started for the door. “Come on,” She drawled. “Let’s catch ‘em before the show starts, you’ll be okay.”

They weren’t hard to find, setting up on stage front and center. You could see Eddie kneeling down to plug in the amp until Gareth lightly hit his arm and pointed in your direction. A grin stretched across his face as his stare dragged over your frame, taking in your fishnets, short skirt, and Hellfire tee. He excused himself to the rest of the guys before jogging over to you. “Hey, I didn’t realize you guys were coming along.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. Dustin found out where I was going and I didn’t want him to get nosy–”

“Are you kidding? This is the most sober people we’ve ever had in an audience, don’t sweat it.” He briefly squeezed your waist then let his hand settle on your back, fingers drumming impatiently. You looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t meet your eyes just yet. “I appreciate you guys coming, I know it’s not really your kinda music.”

Steve waved him off. “Nah, man, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Harrington.” His arm moved from your waist to your shoulders, “I’m gonna steal her from you guys for a couple minutes if you don’t mind. I wanted to show her some of the equipment.” Robin opened her mouth to make a smart remark but was stopped by another punch from Steve.

He guided you to a nook behind one of the walls in the far corner of the bar. Humming lowly, he cupped your face so you’d look at him. “You really dressed for the occasion, pretty girl. You look fucking incredible.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten my exclusive Corroded Coffin t-shirt yet, so I figured this was the next best thing.”

“My apologies, babe, I’ll get right on that.” He dipped his head to press a long, slow kiss to your lips.

“Somebody smoked a joint without me,” You teased.

With a good-natured smile, he rolled his eyes in false exasperation. “Sorry, should’a gotten here earlier. We can smoke all you want after, alright? Pothead.”

“What’s that thing people say?” You asked sarcastically. “I think it was something about a pot, maybe a kettle?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He laughed. A whistle from Gareth called his attention to the stage and he exhaled heavily. “Okay, that’s my cue. Wish me luck?”

“Like you need it,” You pecked his lips. “I’m really excited to hear you play. You guys are gonna do great.” Eddie smiled and stole one last quick kiss before darting back to the stage, leaving you to make your way back to the others.

“We may have taken the liberty of getting you a drink,” Steve said as Robin pushed a glass across the table toward you.

“I would be offended if you hadn’t.” Taking a few swigs, you looked over to where Eddie was finally settling the mic into its stand, his guitar hanging from his shoulder. They didn’t bother with grand introductions given the small crowds that gathered weren’t exactly there to see Corroded Coffin; they simply started into their set.

The boys mostly stuck to covers of semi-popular songs– sticking to their roots with Metallica and Black Sabbath, but appeasing the bar patrons with some Led Zepplin and a grudging Bon Jovi song. A few pieces they’d weaved in were their own and you could tell, but they certainly weren’t out of place. You could see where their inspiration came from.

You caught up with Nancy, Robin, and Steve between songs, but they mostly carried the conversation as you watched Eddie. Anyone really paying attention would be able to see that he was in his element. Sweat matted his bangs to his forehead, fingers moving masterfully over the strings as he powered through Trapped Under Ice with incredible accuracy. While you had heard the dramatic voices he put on during Hellfire, you hadn’t known that he could also mimic James Hetfield and Ozzy very impressively. He wasn’t perfect, but what little he lacked in refinement and precision, he more than made up for with passion. 

The middle-aged drunks occasionally gave some muted applause for the songs they recognized, but otherwise ignored the free entertainment. He really was underappreciated here. In front of a real audience, you couldn’t imagine the kind of stage presence he’d have.

Over the next two hours, you worked your way through a couple drinks. You hoped the frequent crossing of your legs could be attributed to the short skirt you were wearing rather than your dwindling patience and self-control as you waited for Eddie to finish his set. When they finally wrapped up their last song, you made your way up to the stage. He was lowering the mic stand when you got to him, holding his gaze as you dropped a twenty in the guitar case in front of him. There were only a few other bills and some loose change inside.

“God, please don’t. Seriously, that’s insulting.”

“Are you kidding? That’s an investment. I expect it back with interest when you guys make it big.” He held a hand out to you as you joined him on the stage. “Really, I thought you were amazing. You’ll see when you get outta this place.”

He just gave you a small smile and brushed his thumb over your cheek, eyes sweeping over your face briefly before he took both your hands. “So I really do wanna hang with you, babe, but I absolutely have to move all our gear first. Is there any way I can convince you to stick around?” His lips dragged over your knuckles, leaving a few kisses as he spoke. “Have a li’l smoke sesh in the back of the van once it’s empty. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Your chest warmed at the attention he was lavishing you with in front of all of his friends– Dustin’s friends– and you tucked your chin a little bashfully. “That’s fine, Eds.”

“Awesome. We’re gonna finish loading the van, then you can ride with me to Gare’s to unload everything there, then I’m all yours. Cool?”

“Sounds good to me, rockstar.”

Holding your face in one hand, he squished your cheeks and shook your head back and forth lightly. “Always makin’ fun ‘a me, aren’t you?” He landed a kiss on your puckered lips and subtly patted your butt. “Go sit with your friends and I’ll let you know when I’m finished, okay? So glad I had my best girl cheerin’ me on tonight.”

As he went back to helping the guys pack up, you went back to Robin, Nancy, and Steve who paused their conversation when you sat down.

“Swooning already?”

“Somebody’s definitely looking a little starstruck,” Robin added. “Ready to ask him to sign your boobs?”

“The way it’s sounding, he might later,” You replied before taking a sip of your drink.

“I’m proud of you,” She nodded and took your hands dramatically over the table. “At least one of us is leading a successful love life. We will live vicariously through you.”

“Well then, let me know when we figure out how to tell our little brother that we’re dating his male mentor.”

“Wait, did Dustin say Eddie was his male mentor?” Steve interjected. “That’s so not true–”

Robin shook her head. “Steve, shut up.” She smacked your hand and nodded behind you just before you felt hands settle on your chair.

“Hey, you guys enjoy the show?” Eddie’s rings clinked against the metal of the chair, his voice not far from your ear making your heart rate pick up.

“Yeah, you guys were great. We’ll have to come again sometime,” Steve replied.

Nancy politely asked, “How long have you been playing, Eddie? Some of those songs seemed pretty complex.”

“I started playing with the guys when I was in eighth grade, but I started teaching myself around sixth. So, I guess about…nine or ten years?” He shrugged, thumbs drumming against the chair.

“You’re really talented,” She commended.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” His hand shifted to your shoulder before he continued on playfully, “Your guys’ friend here gets a backstage pass though, which means she gets to come watch us unload equipment at Gareth’s mom’s house and smoke my weed.” He took your hand as you stepped down from your high-top chair, pushing it in for you and grabbing your purse as you said goodbye. “Thank you guys again for coming. I’ll see you around soon, yeah?”

Steve gave him a one-armed hug as he nodded, “Definitely, man.”

The two of you walked back to the van, hand in hand, your steps echoing in the mostly-empty parking lot. The others were already waiting in Gareth’s garage passing around a joint when you pulled into the driveway. You followed Eddie around to the back of the van as he opened one of the back doors. Gareth got up to open the other one, handing you the joint as he passed you. 

“Alright, boys, think we can manage our fastest unload yet?” Eddie asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Yeah. As long as you don’t tweak your fuckin’ back again, old ass,” Jeff scoffed in return.

“Seriously, dude. Lift with your legs,” Gareth chimed.

Eddie made a talking motion with his hand and mumbled mockingly back before grabbing one of Gareth’s drums. “Start moving your shit or I’ll stop discounting your weed.”

“Oh, yes! Forgive me, master!” Gareth snarked, voice quavering with feigned fear.

They all got to work on moving the drum kit out first before moving on to the other equipment. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you took a hit and sat on the edge of one of the chairs they had out. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I mean, there’s a fridge in the corner, you wanna grab a few beers?” Jeff asked, getting a grasp on one side of an amp.

Gripping the other side of the amp, Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Dude, did you seriously just send her on a beer run?”

“It’s literally the other side of the garage. Shut the fuck up and bend your knees.”

You grabbed a beer for everyone– except Eddie, who was stuck with cherry Coke until he was done driving– and passed them out when they were done moving the amps. Then, to kill some of the time, you sat in the van and packed a bowl to smoke with Eddie later. When the equipment left in the back started to dwindle, you, Jeff, and Barry made conversation while Eddie unloaded some of the lighter equipment with Gareth. Keeping his voice low, the drummer suddenly spoke. “You know you have to like– marry her, right?”

“What’re you talking about?” Eddie chuckled, though his face and neck warmed at the mental image.

Gareth jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in your direction. “Dude, she’s over there talking to your nerdy loser bandmates about Judas Priest’s influences on Iron Maiden’s first album. And she’s actually invested. You’re not gonna find another girl like that in Hawkins. Not to mention how you talk about her–”

“Alright, shut it,” He huffed. “Just help me get this shit out, it’s getting late.”

When the last of it was finally tucked away in Gareth’s garage, Eddie checked his watch and sighed. Eleven-thirty. “Damn.” Your conversation with the boys had drifted to your opinions on heavy metal power ballads when his hands settled on your waist. “Sorry that took so long, you ready to get going?”

“Don’t worry about it, Eds. I’ll see you guys later though, alright? We should really head out.” The three of them thanked you for coming and said their goodbyes before settling back into their fold-out chairs, presumably to keep getting fried.

You and Eddie climbed into the van and he started it up before looking over at you. “It’s not the first date anymore. Any chance I can convince you to stay the night?”

“No convincing needed. I didn’t know how late I’d be home so I already asked Nancy to cover for me if Dustin calls.”

“Wait, you really want to?”

“Of course I do. Will Wayne mind me staying there?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t care. He works the night shift and sometimes he works overtime, so he usually isn’t back until six or eight in the morning. And occasionally he’ll even stop for a drink with a couple guys from work and that could take ‘til ten,” He explained with a little crooked smile. “He’d love you, though.”

You noticed him freeze up a little as he registered his own words, so you took one of his hands and laced your fingers through his in your lap. “I’m sure I’d love him, too. He must be a great man if he raised you.”

He squeezed your hand lightly as he relaxed. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” There was a moment of quiet, just the low hum of the radio and the roar of the van until Eddie spoke again. “You wouldn’t wanna go to Lover’s Lake, would you?”

“Sure.” His hand settled on your thigh and your lips curled down as you repressed a little smirk. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Hey, I can be romantic,” He defended lightheartedly. “I just prefer places like these when they’re less populated.”

“Why? So you can smoke and have sex in them?” You asked with a joking scoff.

“No, I just like my privacy. It’s more intimate without a bunch of obnoxious people around.” He paused, then conceded. “But yes, I like to have a range of recreational activities to choose from. Is that so bad?”

You shifted your leg so his hand drifted further up your thigh. “You wouldn’t happen to be taking me there to do both, would you, Eds?”

“I’m taking you there to do whatever you wanna do, sweet thing.” His tone remained casual, but his hand slowly crept higher and higher. “We could lay down and look at the stars…Maybe go for a swim…” Goosebumps rose on your skin as his short nails dragged across it, fingers catching on the loops of your fishnets. “What d’you think?”

“We didn’t bring swimsuits,” You remind him.

“So?” He asked as he pulled into the small gravel lot hidden by the trees. Looking over at you with a smirk, he continued, “There’s no one else here.” He got out of the van and came around to open your door as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”

After grabbing a couple of blankets from the back of the van, he took your hand and lead you out away from the trees. You helped him lay out the blankets, crawling onto them and kicking off your shoes. Eddie lay down beside you and you looked over at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been out here at night. It’s really pretty.”

“Can’t believe you think so when you get to look in the mirror every day,” He shot back without effort, giving you that goofy grin of his.

Lightly smacking his arm, you fought back a big smile of your own. “That was terrible, you know that, right? That was actually so bad.” Your combined laughter sounded loud in the near-silent clearing of the lake; your voices were only accompanied by the constant chirping of crickets and the occasional owl’s hoot. 

He rolled onto his side, resting his head in his hand as he looked down at you. “You’ve gotta get used to taking my compliments, babe, even the corny ones. ‘Cause soon they’ll be comin’ non-stop.” You simply hummed in response, your hand finding the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to shift over you, arms on either side of you to support himself as his knee braced between your legs. Lips sticky with your lip gloss, his mouth made a path to your neck. “Y’really do look so pretty tonight, baby. Never seen you in a skirt before, I could barely pay attention to our set.”

“I thought you did amazing.” His hot breath on your neck made you squirm, grasping at his shirt as your hips wound against the firmness of his thigh. “Had me wet the whole time.”

“Fuck, wanted to get my hands on you so bad. Just performing had you all soaked for me, huh?” Your skirt rode up toward your waist until Eddie decided it was unnecessary, leaning back to yank it off. “Jesus H. Christ, fucking look at you.” Lying beneath him, fishnets stretched taut over your spread thighs leading up to your Hellfire tee, you were his fucking dream. It wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t a religious man but, at that moment, he wished he was because he felt like he needed to thank somebody for your existence. It was like every fantasy he’d ever had simply walked out of his head and into his life. “Seriously, I might need to take a minute.”

“Can you help me out of these while you do?” You ask, curling your legs up to your chest.

He guided one of them up to his shoulder, running his hand down your outstretched leg and eyeing the tights before he looked at you. “Am I in trouble if I say no?”

“If you take them off now without ripping them I’ll wear them for you again sometime,” You bargained teasingly.

“I’ll do it if you let me eat you out through them next time.”

You shoved lightly at his chest with your foot, trying not to laugh. “You’re such a freak.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you playfully, but you could see he didn’t take the name to heart coming from you as his hips pressed into your ass. “Careful callin’ me names, babe. I’m starting to like it when you’re mean to me.”

“Pervert.”

He hummed, trailing kisses down the inside of your leg and finally hooking his fingers into the waistband of your fishnets. “Only for you, sweetheart.” His short nails scraped gently along your skin again as he carefully drew the tights down your legs. The second they were off, you sat up to pull him into another hungry kiss.

Deepening it, he started to ease you onto your back again but was shocked when you pulled away. With a coy smile, you asked, “How ‘bout that swim?”

Baffled, he was unable to come up with a response before you were standing and whipping your shirt off. His brain kicked back into gear when you dashed away from him toward the lake. Then he was running after you, fumbling to kick off his shoes and strip in the process. He froze as he watched you take off your bra and jump in wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of panties. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding. Finally kicking off his jeans, Eddie dove in after you.

Attempting to wipe the water from your eyes, you looked around for him in the water. Just as he breached the surface behind you, though, he grabbed your waist and shouted. Your squeal broke into a fit of giggles as he squeezed your sides and pulled you into his chest. “You’re such a dick!”

“That’s what you get for bein’ a tease.” Staying close to shore, the water came nearly to his shoulders. He urged you to wrap your legs around his waist, his hands settling under your butt to hold you comfortably.

Arms settling loosely around his neck, you looked away pointedly, that mischievous little expression finding its way to your face again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you don’t. ‘Cause the sweet girl I know would never do a thing like that, right?” He asked sarcastically.

You shook your head and answered in a falsely solemn tone. “Never.”

He chuckled softly until you leaned into him, nipples hardened from the chill of the water and pressing into his chest. Faint smiles never left your faces as you shared a few messy kisses. His hand rubbed soothingly up and down your spine while you pushed a strand of wet hair from his face. Swept off his shoulders, his soaked hair allowed you to see his whole face more clearly than ever. He started to feel self-conscious as your eyes drifted slowly over his features, taking him in, your thumb stroking over a spot beneath his ear that gave him chills. “You’re so handsome, Eddie.” He opened his mouth slightly like he was going to respond, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything so you changed the topic for him. “It’s nice here at night, we should come back again sometime when we don’t have any other plans.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he frowned in confusion. “What do you mean ‘other plans’?”

Untangling yourself from him, you faced him and swam backward toward the dock. “Hotboxing the van and having amazing sex, obviously. C’mon.” Climbing out, you held your arm tight over your chest as you snagged your bra off the dock and ran to the blankets still on the ground.

Eddie was close behind, picking up his trail of abandoned clothing. He started to apologize for the lack of towels, but you quickly waved him off and you both dried off as well as you could with one of the blankets. While you wrapped yourself in the dry blanket, he gathered your things with his to carry it all back to the car. “Go ahead and get in the back, I’ll start it up and get the music going.”

Opening one of the back doors, you found that the floor was already covered with other blankets. Climbing inside, you felt the van rumble to life. You could hear Eddie rustling through cassettes in his console as you peeled off your sopping-wet underwear and curled up with the pillows and blankets he’d put back there. The bowl you’d packed in hand, he finally joined you in the back. When he climbed in he paused to fidget with something you couldn’t see and suddenly the back doors were illuminated by little twinkling lights. He swung the door closed and tugged off his boxers before you asked, “When did you have time to do all this?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s all been back here for a little while. I just laid the blankets out in here when I grabbed the other ones to lay down by the lake.” He settled beside you, the top half of his blanket bunched in his lap leaving you free to ogle his tattoos– a favorite pastime of yours. “You want the first hit?”

You shook your head with a small smile, eyes tracing his features like they had in the lake. His hair was still heavy with water, but his forehead was hidden again and his curls were starting to come back. With nothing but moonlight, his eyes had looked black; in the glow of the fairy lights, you could see their warm cocoa-brown color again. His pretty lips formed an O as smoke billowed out of them. Their blushy-pink color nearly matched the flush on his cheeks, which you knew would spread to his neck and chest soon enough. He was beautiful, really.

He offered you the bowl and it stayed quiet, excepting the Master of Reality album playing softly, while you took a few long rips. You passed it back to him and let the silence continue for a moment before you finally said, “I’m gonna tell Dustin.” Unintentionally hitching in a breath, he choked on a throatful of smoke. The resulting coughing fit was so intense it brought tears to his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh as you rubbed his back. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but you still leaned over the console to grab the bottle of water from the cup holder. 

Taking a few swigs, he cleared his throat. “Okay, sorry,” He let out a big breath before he looked at you again. “You’re ready to tell him?”

“Yeah.” Too nervous to hold his gaze, you curled into his side. He welcomed you, of course, tucking his blanket around the both of you and kissing the top of your head. “I just feel like things have gotten…real. You try to take care of me in ways no one else has before and everything feels so easy with you– and honestly, both of those things scare the shit out of me ‘cause that usually means everything is absolutely going to go to shit…But you look out for my brother, and I feel like I can trust you, and everything we do together just feels so intimate…” You huffed embarrassedly and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I think Dustin deserves to know that I care about you so much.”

“That we care about each other,” He corrected you. Hand framing your jaw, Eddie made you meet his eyes. “I’m gonna be there with you when you tell him. I don’t want you to do it alone, we should do it together. I still have to get his blessing, right?” He added jokingly. Before you could say anything, he started to ramble a little nervously. “I feel like this is real. I’ve never felt this way about anybody. I’ve never had the chance to have anything serious before, but you…You’re all I think about now. That first day I met you, it was like I had this ‘Where have you been all my life?’ moment and you’re all I’ve wanted since, and I know that sounds really cheesy and dramatic but–”

Your mouth on his cut him off, which seemed to be a habit you were forming. He didn’t mind though, he’d been told to shut up in much less pleasant ways. When you pulled away, it was only enough to murmur, “I know the feeling.” Your nose nudging his was enough for him to keep it going, hand hooking under your knee and drawing you to straddle his lap.

The blanket slumped to your waist leaving your torso bare for his eyes and hands to wander. “You’re just so fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty girl, right, baby?”

Toying with one of his damp curls, you held his gaze as you agreed, “No one else’s.” At your answer, he pulled you in for a much more desperate kiss. His fingers pressed into your back while the others slipped beneath you to find you soaked, your chest flush with his as his tongue passed your lips. 

He pressed two fingers into you easily, slowly massaging your g-spot until you were whining into his mouth. “Feels like you might not even need me to stretch you out, sweetheart.” Hips canting forward involuntarily, your clit ground into the thick base of his cock. Finally letting you catch your breath, he withdrew his hand from between you and looked down to watch how your slick spread on his skin as he rutted against you. “Mmm, gonna let me show you how bad I need you?”

You brushed his hair back from his shoulders as you breathily replied, “Condom?”

“Wallet,” He answered. Leaning over his shoulder to grab it off the console put you in the perfect position for Eddie to mouth at your tits, lips wrapping around one nipple while the roughened pads of his fingers found the other. You moaned quietly and tugged at his hair, but grabbed the wallet and rifled through it. 

“Eds, there isn’t one in here.”

“Fuck. Glovebox, maybe,” He suggested.

Huffing impatiently, you began to wind your hips against his again. “D’you promise to pull out if I let you fuck me raw?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Really– I mean, are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Need to feel you now, Eddie,” You insisted.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise.” He lovingly pecked your lips before grasping your waist, helping keep you steady as you slowly sank down on him. Fully seated in his lap, a gasp rose in your throat. “There you go,” He murmured comfortingly. “I know, baby, but you’re so good. Can finally feel how wet you really are. Takin’ me so deep.”

Your voice was nothing but a high-pitched, airy sigh. “Feel you everywhere.”

“S’Cause I’m made for you.” Your forehead rested against his as he continued. “I was made to fill you up, pretty girl.” His words provoked a pathetic moan from you, spurring you to lift your hips fractionally just to ease back down again. Supporting yourself with your hands on his shoulders, you tried to start up a steady pace, but your thighs trembled with every motion. The moans and whimpers you let out started to sound quiet and watery and it worried him, but the determined rocking of your hips never ceased. “You doing okay, baby?”

Not lifting your head, you sniffed frustratedly. “Need help, Eddie.”

“Oh, baby, why didn’t you say so?” He cooed sympathetically. “S’okay to need my help, c’mere.”

Arms around your waist, he guided you up and down on his cock at a careful speed until you were grinding down on him again. “Eds please, I need more,” You whimpered. Rolling his hips to meet yours, he didn’t hesitate to tighten his arms around you and quicken his pace. The way he was hitting every possible spot inside you had your eyes squeezing shut to keep them from crossing. Thighs trembling, you shivered as he rubbed and squeezed at them.

Eddie’s shoulders rolled back as he leaned against the console, hands running slowly over your hips and across your stomach to palm at your tits. “Look so pretty on top’a me, sweet girl. Might have to make you ride me more often.” His thrusts into you sped up, the console against his back giving him more leverage. One of your hands rested lightly on his lower abdomen to steady yourself but once his thumb found your clit, you were practically writhing in his lap. He rubbed it in firm, precise circles and felt you squeeze around his cock uncontrollably. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Can’t wait to feel you soak me for the first time.”

Something felt different than usual as that coil wound tighter in your stomach. It was hotter, like flames were crawling across your skin. It felt like your bones shook and your eyes swam with stars as you cried out his name. Your nails dragged down his stomach, those of the other hand doing the same to his thigh, trying to anchor yourself with your head in the clouds.

It wasn’t until the ringing in your ears cleared that you heard Eddie’s feral groans, making you look down. Everything was drenched; your thighs, his cock, his stomach, and his chest glistened wet in the warm lights. The sight made you register the sloshing sounds of your dripping wet pussy as he started to slow his thrusts enough to pull out. Arms enclosing around your waist again, he all but pinned you to his chest as he rutted between your stomachs. Lips molding to yours, he kissed you sloppily before his gaze wandered your body in awe. “Can’t believe you fuckin’ squirted f’me. Fuck–” Cut off by his own moan, his forehead fell to your shoulder as his eyes squeezed shut, his hot spend painting both your skin and his. 

After he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, he eased you onto your back, watching the filthy mixture of your come drip down your used cunt. “Eds, what’re you doin’?” You asked timidly as he lowered himself between your thighs, voice coming out in a barely-there squeak.

“Wishin’ I could take a fucking picture, sweetheart. I was gonna clean you up. Want me to use the blanket instead? S’okay if you’re too sensitive, especially after all that.” You nodded and he kissed the side of your knee with a smile as he grabbed the soiled blanket and quickly wiped himself off. Your legs flinched as he patted you dry and his eyes filled with concern as he murmured your name. “Did I hurt you? Did I do too much?”

“No,” You struggled to raise your voice above a mumble. “I’m okay, Eds, I’m jus’ all sensitive.”

“Promise me that’s it?” He asked, running his hands comfortingly over your legs. Pointedly avoiding his gaze, you huffed through your nose and your eyes brimmed with tears. “Baby, c’mon, what is it? What’s the matter?”

You answered him in a whimper, sniffing back tears every few words. “I jus’ made a mess ‘n I’ve never done that before ‘n now everything’s all yucky–”

“Aw, baby,” He chuckled through a sympathetic pout. Lying down and drawing you to his chest, he wiped your tears and kissed your forehead. The two of you curled up under one of the clean blankets. “Nothing’s yucky, sweet girl. Just gotta wash the blankie, no big deal.”

“But ‘m still all sticky,” You pout up at him. “C’n we take a bath when we get home?”

“Home?”

“Your trailer, Eddie,” You whine. “Wanna take a bath.” Lids heavy with exhaustion, your eyes slowly fluttered closed repeatedly before they’d snap open again.

“You’re so sleepy, sweet girl.” He brushed your hair back from your face. “Think you can take a little nap back here while I drive us home?” You nodded dreamily but still clutched at him whenever he tried to get up. “I know, baby, just twenty minutes and we can take a bath. Okay?” When you finally conceded, he tugged on his jeans and made the short drive home. 

Once you were bathed and dressed in nothing but a borrowed Metallica t-shirt, he tucked you into his bed before crawling in beside you. You dozed off easily with your head on his chest, but he stayed up just a little while longer. Palm rubbing circles on your back, his lips ghosted over your forehead. “I love you, baby,” He whispered almost silently. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feeling of your heart beating against his side, counting them like a child would sheep until he fell asleep.

The next morning, you woke up first, Eddie’s arms around you and his chest molded to your back. You scoffed and rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help your tiny smirk as you registered the feeling of him squeezing at your tit, his even, heavy breaths against your shoulder telling you he was fast asleep. Slowly rocking your hips back, you bit back a laugh when it made his grasp tighten while he nuzzled into your neck. He rutted against you, half-hearted and arrhythmic in his unconscious state. It wasn’t until you reached back to hold his hip and grind directly against his cock, separated only by his boxers, that he finally grunted himself awake. “Mmm, g’morning t’you too, gorgeous.”

“You’re a perv even in your sleep, you know that, Munson?”

He mouthed at your neck with a sleepy grin, “I could’a told you that. How’d you know I was dreamin’ about you?”

“Well, your right hand was my first clue.” You pointedly ground your hips into his again and looked back over your shoulder at him, “Wanna guess my second?”

“Can’t help but get ideas, babe. You’re sleepin’ in my bed, in my shirt, no panties…” His fingers walked a path down your stomach, stopping just after your belly button. “Promise I kept my hands to myself, though– while I was awake, anyway.”

His hand drifted leisurely between your legs but you groaned. “Eds, what time is it?”

“I don’t know, almost nine? Why?” His lips never left your skin, still working over your neck and shoulder without leaving obvious marks.

“We can’t, we have to go. Dustin’s at Mike’s and I wanna make sure we get back before him. I’ve still gotta make myself decent and figure out what I’m gonna say to him.”

“What we’re gonna say to him,” He corrected. “And can’t you stay indecent a little longer?”

“Wayne’ll be home anytime,” You remind him, “If he’s not already.”

He pouted, “But how often do we get to have great morning sex after a night together like this, baby?”

“Any morning now that I’ll be staying over whenever you want,” You point out.

“Hmm, I s’pose that’s true,” He agreed contently. Stretching out beside you with a loud groan, he pecked your cheek before he got out of bed. Yawning, “I’ll be right back,” he headed for the bathroom. 

Rolling over, you buried your face in his pillow and breathed in. Old spice shampoo, weed, and Marlboros filled your nose and it made every muscle in your body relax. Him. You wanted to bottle the scent, soak every pillow and blanket and sweatshirt you owned with it. You’d never have another restless night again. Lifting your head slightly, you left your nose against the fabric but allowed your eyes to flicker around his room. 

A bottle of lotion sat on his nightstand, he didn’t seem to bother with tissues though. You weren’t surprised. Handcuffs hung on the wall, also not surprising, but they still made your thighs twitch. There were more band posters than in your room, including a hand-spray-painted one for Corroded Coffin. He had three guitars, his prized possession– his other sweetheart, as well as another black and white electric, and an acoustic painted to say ‘this machine slays dragons’. An amp sat across from the bed and his dressers were strewn with clothes and beer cans. It was easy to imagine him existing in here. Playing guitar in bed in his boxers or planning the party’s next campaign at his desk.

Your eyes snapped to the door when it finally opened again. “Still in bed, huh?” Nodding with a small smile, you watched him rummage through his dresser for today’s band tee. His hand settled on Slayer before he thought of running into your mom, and opted for the much tamer Deep Purple one beneath it. “Well, you should probably put somethin’ else on before I take you home. What you’ve got on might get a little breezy.”

“Bite me,” You yawned, flipping him off as you got up.

“I didn’t think we had time for that,” He replied snarkily. He finished getting dressed as you slipped on your skirt and balled up your fishnets to put in your purse.

When you were both ready– or as ready as you could get for now– you headed for the van. “I’ll make coffee when we get to mine,” You offer. “My mom should be at work, so I’ll make breakfast. Food might help soften the blow.”

“God, you’re acting like we killed his cat or something,” He laughed. “We’re not breaking bad news, babe.”

“It’s still a shock, alright? And Dustin has big feelings, you know that. I just don’t wanna make him feel uncomfortable or lied to. Me and him don’t usually keep secrets, so this is a big deal.”

“I can be tactful, alright? But I’ll let you do most of the talking if that makes you feel better, I know you’re worried about him.” His fingers laced through yours and brought the back of your hand to his lips. “It’s gonna be okay though, sweet girl.”

Pulling into your driveway, you let out a heavy breath before you got out and lead him inside. As you got dressed, you tried to practice what you’d say, rambling your thoughts aloud. He left you to your process, only stepping in for you to bounce thoughts off of or to keep you from getting lost in your concerns. You only paused once you made your way into the kitchen. Putting a pot of coffee on, you asked, “Chocolate chip pancakes okay for breakfast? They’re his favorite. I’ll probably make a little of everything else too; eggs, bacon, sausage, there’s fruit in the fridge.”

Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep the words ‘marry me’ from rolling off his lips. “Sounds incredible, baby. Anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s okay.” Watching you methodically gather everything you needed from the fridge and cabinets, he figured he’d just get in your way if he tried to lend a hand. While you cooked, you mumbled through your prepared speech again, knowing it would never go so smoothly in actual conversation. Thinking about it more, you just hoped Lucas and Mike didn’t come back with him.

By the time he made it home, leaving his bike in the yard, you had made more than enough food and Eddie had already eaten his. Dustin was talking the second the door was open. “What’re you doing here, Eddie? Something going on with Hellfire?”

“Nice to see you too, Henderson.” He retorted, standing and flicking the bill of your brother’s hat into his eyes. “Your sister made you breakfast. I hear chocolate chip pancakes are your favorite.”

He eyed both of you suspiciously as he started toward the kitchen. "Yeah, what's it to you?" Eddie shared a confused look with you, but decided not to say anything. After he’d made his plate and sat down at the table to dig in, Dustin spoke again with a mouthful of food. “So, what’s with the special breakfast? Why’re you guys being weird?”

“We’re not being weird–”

“You’re alone at the house together,” He pointed out, still shoveling food into his face. “That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird– would you just listen? It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to run something by you, alright?” Eddie could tell you were fumbling, forgetting everything you’d planned to say. His hand itched to reach out for yours on the table, but he knew you wanted to get the words out first. “I’ve been–”

“Seeing Eddie?” Dustin interrupted. When the two of you shared a glance and you opened your mouth to question him, he continued. “Mike and Lucas told me last night.”

“How did they–” Eddie began, but Dustin cut him off.

“Apparently, everybody knew but me! All the guys in the band knew! Steve, Nancy, and Robin knew! How could you leave me out of the loop like this? You know I hate not knowing things! I have to know everything!”

“Dusty, calm down,” You said softly. “I wanted to wait until I actually had something to tell you. He’s your friend, I didn’t want to change the way you look at him just to go on a couple dates and decide it wasn’t gonna work.”

Nose wrinkling, he asked, “So, what? You guys are like– boyfriend and girlfriend now or something?”

You snorted and Eddie couldn’t help the small, smug smile creeping across his face. “Yeah, are we boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Back of your hand hitting his stomach, you tried not to laugh as you answered. “Yeah, I guess we are.” Turning back to your brother, you added, “Only if you’re okay with it, though. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel like you can’t trust Eddie anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird, but I guess I don’t care as long as you don’t make out and all that gross shit in front of me. And you’d better treat her right or me, Mike, and Lucas are all leaving Hellfire,” He tagged on pointedly.

“You don’t have to worry about that, you have my word.” He looked like he was about to say more, but opted to stay quiet.

“Okay, well, I think I’ve lost my appetite for now.” Dustin stood from the table, “I’m gonna go back to Mike’s and tell them they were right.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to clean up. “Be safe, I love you.” 

“Love you, too!” He shouted back just before he yanked the door shut.

As you started rinsing dishes in the sink, Eddie’s hands found your waist. “I think that went well.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t stay awkward for long,” You sighed lightly. “I guess Lucas and Mike did the hard part for us.”

“Guess so,” He drawled in agreement. “So, what now?”

“Now? Hmm…” Drying off your hands, you turned to loosely wrap your arms around his neck. “I guess now we do whatever we want, no more sneaking around.”

“I hope that’s not gonna suck the fun out of it for you.”

“‘Cause watching you Tetris yourself through my window is such a turn-on,” You scoffed.

He gave you a look of mock offendedness. “Good thing I won’t have to do it anymore, since you clearly don’t appreciate the athletic prowess it takes to climb through that window without waking your mom up.” 

Halfheartedly rolling your eyes yet again, you let your fingers dip past the neck of his shirt, fingers grazing along the top of his spine. “How about you roll us a joint and then I’ll show you how much I appreciate your ‘athletic prowess’?”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe,” He sighed theatrically. “But you know it’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Obviously,” Lacing your fingers through his, you dragged him toward your room. “That’s why I offered.”

As the three boys gathered at Mike’s house again, he asked, “Wait, we were right?”

Lucas stood, pointing at him. “I TOLD YOU, MAN!” 

Mike tried to argue, “I NEVER SAID–”

“I TOLD YOU!”

“GUYS, SHUT THE HELL UP!” Dustin interjected.

Lucas cleared his throat as the two of them settled back into their seats. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“So, you’re really okay with Eddie dating your sister? I mean, it’s not gonna make Hellfire awkward or anything, is it?” Mike questioned.

“I don’t know, it’s weird. It’ll definitely be nasty seeing them all lovey-dovey or whatever, but they’re still just Eddie and my sister. As long as they don’t act different, I won’t act different.” Turning on the TV, Dustin flopped onto the couch next to Mike. “Besides, I think part of me knew they’d hit it off– I’m like a natural matchmaker. They just have too much in common, ya know?”

part one | part two | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trln @cantreadbutcute @kennedy-brooke @navs-bhat @sluggzillaa @whatwedontdointheshadows @saayanaaa @depressedacidtest @unholyyylita @m-chmcl-rmnc @pullhisteeth @vivalasv3gan @a3trogirl @thesagewitchh @djoseph-quinn @darlingdixon

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[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[itsthestutterforme]

“Glad You Called” (Jack Reacher x black!reader)

Summary: Two years ago, Reacher left your home with nothing but a note left behind. What does he expect your reaction to be when he shows up at your door, saying you were in danger?

Notes; GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, friends to lovers trope

**

The faint pattering of the rain on the tin roof of your outdoor garage was the only thing you could hear from the house.

You stared down at the unsaved numbers flooding your most recent call list. Reacher had been on your mind lately.

Which was kind of out of the norm because you hadn’t seen him in years. And you didn’t exactly end on the best of terms either.

He ghosted you. You woke up one random morning and noticed he was gone. A simple note was left behind:

“You’re perfect. You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

I suppose it was better than nothing, but barely.

He was in the Atlanta area and needed some place to crash. You were the first person that came to mind. He knew you were in Atlanta but had no idea which part.

He would have been searching for hours until he happened to walk by the coffee shop you frequented.

You were eating a piece of bacon avocado toast when you felt eyes on you. You looked up to see the mountain of a man known as Reacher, and that was the start of a very slippery slope.

One night turned in six months. Neither of you crossed that boundary but it was very noticeable that there was something romantic between the two of you.

There was something about the way the looked at you that desperately made you wish that you were a telepath.

That man had libraries worth of words in that brain of his and yet he chose to remain quiet every time.

The best part about it was while he was selective with words, his presence spoke volumes whenever he walked into a room.

Little did you know that what was going through his mind when he would look at you was one thing: marriage.

And that scares the hell out of him. He never crossed the line because he knew he would never go back.

That would be the end of it. His time of being a wandered would be over and he would be forever tied to you.

The domestic life would have taken him over, and it would have been completely voluntary. Because he wants to be there, with you.

He would have lived out his life as a husband and as a father. And he knew he wasn’t going to be ready for that, so he left.

Over the course of the six months of you living together, you expected to see him when you got home. He would ask you how was your day was while he cooked dinner for you.

You’ve gotten used to that. You’ve gotten used to him. And then he was gone.

The letter was all you had left of him for two years. And now there is an unsaved number calling you every day for the past week like clock work.

Speaking of, your phone rings once again. It was the same unsaved number, but this timed you answered.

“Hello?” you heard a deep sigh through the phone.

“Reacher,” you added, your palms growing slick.

“Y/N,” he starts, it was almost as if he wasn’t expecting you to answer.

“What, cat got your tongue?” you said unamused.

“You’re in danger Y/N. When can you get to New York City?”

“What makes you think I want you to protect me?”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this. They threw Franz out of a helicopter after torturing him for information. I need to know that you are safe.” he says all in one breath.

“Franz?” you repeated.

He remained silent for a moment.

“God. I was at his wedding last year,” you said in disbelief.

“How soon can you get to New York?” he repeats.

“I can protect myself, Reacher. Goodbye.”

“Then I’m coming to you,” he says before ending the call. You stared at your phone with your mouth open in disbelief.

You had a feeling that would be a face you would be making often.

**

You already knew who it was from the solid knock reverberating through your house. However, it is better to be safe than sorry.

You had to admit that you’ve been on edge ever since Reacher called you. You only went out for the essentials and even then, those trips were kept minimal.

Taking your Beretta from your table, you check the chamber and clicked off the safety as you made your way towards the door. Opening the door, you had the barrel of the gun pressed against it.

Much to your surprise, it was not just Reacher at your front door. O’Donnel, Neagley and Dixon were standing behind him.

“I was hoping you weren’t serious,” you start.

“When have you ever known me to joke?”he retorts.

“There was a time that I knew you to have integrity. Obviously that has changed.” you said, clicking the safety back on.

You walked back inside and tucked your gun under your waist band. Reacher took that as an invitation to enter and the rest of the group followed.

Reacher couldn’t help but look around the familiar house. You still liked to keep the house smelling of citrus with a dash of honey.

He loved the smell. It reminded him of Christmas. Reminded him of home. He almost ran into you when you stopped to turn around.

Your glossed over eyes met his and while your gaze remained on his face, his explored every detail.

Your voluminous, curly hair just barely touched your shoulders. Your favorite crop top and sweatpants outfit you wore more often than not. Your fuzzy Crocs that he initially hated but he grew to love.

He grew to love you.

O’Donnel and Neagley shared a look at how cold you were being towards Reacher.

Of course they didn’t know about what happened between you before. So as far as they were concerned, it was unwarranted.

“You guys didn’t need to come all the way over here. Like I told Reacher, I can handle myself.” You explained, breaking the silence.

“I’m sure Franz thought the same thing,” Neagley starts.

“We’re not losing anyone else. And I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but you’re just going to suck it up for the time being.” Reacher stampedes.

“If you somehow think you can just burst into my home and my life, and stick your chest out while you give orders. You’re insane. But if you really expect me to listen, you can fuck off.” You snark, crossing your game and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Okay, obviously we missed a few chapters.” O’Donnel voiced.

The group looked between you and Reacher for a moment until Dixon spoke up, “Whatever bad blood you two have, set it aside. I can guarantee you, it’s not worth your lives.”

“Yeah, we started coming up with a plan of action but it didn’t really get anywhere because Reacher was adamant about getting in touch with you. So now that we’re all together where can we start?” O’Donell facilitates.

“What do we have so far?” you questioned, giving Reacher one last pointed look before sitting down.

**

Should I make a part 2? 🤔

[restlessmaknae]

crush into you // myung jaehyun

When you literally crush into Jaehyun on your way to an interview, the boy manages to spill iced coffee on your blouse. That's how you end up wearing his own blazer to the interview to cover up the spot, and the rest is history.

➳ Characters: uni student!Jaehyun x uni student!female reader/you

➳ Genre: meet cute, slice of life, uni au, fluff

➳ Words: 3k

➳ Warning: mentions of foods

➳ A/N: This story had the second most votes in my recent poll, so here it is. I'm really enjoying their comeback, so it was very easy to write a story about Jaehyun. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ❤️

➳ Taglist: @s00buwu, @dat-town

Your days were carefully planned out with written to-do lists, calendar apps filling up your phone, and multiple scenarios made up with every plan that you might have. Just like today when you were about to go to an assessment centre as part of a job interview: a 3-hour selection process with an hour of group work, an hour of one-on-one interview with the hiring manager alongside an HR specialist and an hour for individual tests. You planned out when to leave the flat, when to get on the bus, which bus to take in case you didn’t manage to get on the exact bus you wanted and when you could possibly leave your neighbourhood the latest in order to still get to the company in time.

Myung Jaehyun’s days, on the other hand, were a hot mess. He was frequently running late from classes, group work meet-ups and dance practices, high on adrenaline and energy drinks. No one blamed him because the moment he flashed a smile, it was game over for them. Taesan might have given him a bombastic side eye for such a comment, but it was rare that anyone really reprimanded Jaehyun for being a bit too hyper, a bit too all over the place and a bit of a kid at times.

So when you literally crushed into him as you turned a corner towards the company and he was running around with his iced coffee in hand, trying not to be late from a class, on his part, the collision wasn’t that unexpected.

On your part though, it totally was.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so so sorry,” the boy exclaimed first things first just at the same time as you started apologising to him, but when you felt an odd cold sensation around your abdominal area, you immediately looked down at your white blouse, your lips parting in disbelief.

“Oh nooo,” you pouted, looking at the brownish spot on your white blouse caused by his coffee, multiple scenarios crossing your head as to how to fix this. You didn’t have enough time to go back to your flat to change, you weren’t familiar with the area, so you didn’t know whether they had a clothes shop around, and you didn’t know whether trying to get the stain out would only make it worse and the spot more noticeable or not.

“Oh. My. Gosh. I’m so… very… sorry,” the stranger reacted more dramatically than you would have thought so, all wide eyes and exasperated expression tinting his otherwise boyish features, messy jet-black locks falling into his eyes. As opposed to your business casual style - white blouse with black cotton pants and high-heeled sandals -, he looked more like a sophisticated yet fashionable guy around campus with his burgundy sports shoes, leather pants, a simple white tee, a black blazer and multiple accessories crowning the look from rings on his fingers to necklaces gracing his skin. You couldn’t have looked any different at that moment.

“I’ll make it up, I promise. Are you in a hurry, are you heading somewhere?” He asked nevertheless, his puppy eyes also in contrast to his whole appearance.

“Well, yeah, I’m going for a job interview. I’ll have to be there in 15 minutes, and it’s still like a 5-minute walk from here.”

“Oh no, that’s not good,” he shook his head, and with the hand that didn’t hold the half-empty cup of the rest of his coffee, he scratched the back of his neck. He bit down on his lower lip, clearly in deep contemplation, and you were about to end this whole conversation when his actions made you freeze on the spot. In a whirlwind moment of events, he threw his cup into a nearby trash can, got a tissue out of his pocket to clean his hand that the coffee also spilled onto and slid the blazer off himself to reach it out to you. “Here, take this. It might be a bit big on you, but it will cover up the spot nicely, and I think it will go well with your outfit.”

“But…”

“Please, take it. I don’t really know what else to do right now, and you have a job interview in 15 minutes, and I’m terribly sorry, and I don’t want you to mess it up because of me. So it might be worth a try? I don’t know, I just…” The boy kept talking on and on, his voice cheery yet also filled with guilt, and seeing his puppy eyes shining with genuine care, you didn’t have the heart to say no. What could possibly go wrong about trying it on either way?

“I was about to say that it’s actually a pretty smart idea,” you pointed out as you reached out for the blazer, and the boy’s face lit up fully when you complimented him. He flashed you a wide, toothy grin, his smile pushing his lips closer to his eyes, so much that his eyes almost disappeared while he was smiling at you.

The boy even offered to hold your bag while you put the blazer on, and since it had two buttons on the bottom, it allowed you to fully cover up the spot as if it had never been there. He was right though, it was big on you, but oversized was in fashion these days, right?

“Oh my gosh, it really does fit you,” he pointed it out in a similarly excited manner as before, and you smiled back at him, forgetting for a moment why you had even been wearing his clothes. Just for a moment though, you were back to your planning self within a second.

“Thanks for your help, but I really need to go now. Would you give me your number, so I can give it back to you later on?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said as he fished his phone out of his pocket to exchange contacts with you. As you locked your screen after saving his number, you looked up at him, into his shining jet-black orbs, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Gosh, your days were always so planned out, plan Bs and Cs tucked into your mind with every scenario that you could imagine, yet this, this was exactly the kind of thing you could not prepare yourself for. No wonder you were awfully unprepared for what to say.

Luckily, he was the one who woke up from his stupor first as he announced:

“Let me know how the interview goes. Good luck! You’ve got this!” He cheered you on as he threw his balled fists into the air, and off he went, the picture of his wide, toothy smile and his shining eyes difficult to forget even if you had more important things to concentrate on.

You agreed on meeting at a café a few days later. Those few days were enough for you to wash and dry clean the blazer, and to get a gift bag, so you could give it back to the boy (Jaehyun based on his KKT ID) in a presentable manner. You were supposed to be early for your agreed meet-up as you made your way to the café 10 minutes earlier, but you already found Jaehyun sitting at a corner table, scrolling through his phone and occasionally laughing out loud at whatever he was watching.

Jaehyun was not supposed to be early for your agreed meet-up, but given your well-prepared state the last time you had met, he started wondering where you could be at 15:15 when he had thrown himself into the café, totally panicked that you must have already been sitting there. Only to realise upon checking your messages with you that you had actually agreed on meeting at 15:30, meaning that he was actually 15 minutes early, not 15 minutes late. Not too bad for someone like him though.

So when you walked up to him and your voice dragged him out of his mindless scrolling, he flashed a wide smile at you, the one that had been engraved into your memories since your first encounter.

“Hey! Have you been waiting for a long time?” You inquired curiously as you hopped down on the chair on the opposite side of the table. Jaehyun let out a semi-embarrassed chuckle, one that made you furrow your eyebrows in question, although the smile was still playing on your lips.

“Well, that’s a funny story,” he started with a scratch on his neck before he continued with the story. “I thought… no, I was convinced that we were supposed to meet at 15:00, and so, I was fashionably late as usual. You know how I said that I’m usually late, but I’ll try my best to come on time. When I didn’t see you here at 15:15 when I got here, I checked our conversation on KKT, and it turns out we were supposed to meet at 15:30, so I was 15 minutes early.”

“Oh my gosh,” you couldn’t hold back your laughter as you were listening to his explanation, and the way he told the story made everything ten times funnier. He used wide hand gestures while speaking, and he played with his tone to deliver the parts of the story even more clearly. The boy laughed at himself too, so it didn’t feel weird laughing at his antics, something so unlike yours.

After pulling yourself together, you gave him the bag with the clean blazer, yet, he insisted that you shouldn’t have cleaned it yourself and bought a gift bag for him in which you delivered it. Hearing that, you insisted that crushing into him was partly your fault, and he did save you from having to sit though the 3-hour selection process with a visible coffee-stain on your blouse, so this was the least you could do. Plus, even though you didn’t say it out loud, you found it cute how he had asked about your interview afterwards on KKT (what position it was for, what company it was and how it went), and how delighted he had been when you had told him that you think you had done well. He had sent some encouraging memes in return (like the kid with his balled fists and a determined face), and just the thought that pretty much a stranger like him could be so happy and cheer you on eased your frazzled nerves post-interview.

You ordered your drinks while he was asking about your days and how you had been since you had last met. That’s when your phone buzzed, and seeing the company’s name on the screen that you had interviewed for, you immediately reached for it. Swiftly, you unlocked your screen and opened the message, only to let out a little bit of a squeal when you saw that you had gotten in.

“Oh my god, what is it?” Jaehyun asked, and his confusion was written all over his features when you looked up from your phone.

“I’ve got the internship! I’ve got in!”

Immediately, the boy’s features softened, and his lips pulled into a genuine, wide smile that could outdo the sun, his jet-black orbs twinkling with joy.

“Wow, congrats! That’s so cool!” He beamed, practically as excited as you, and clapped his hands enthusiastically. You could see from the corner of your eyes that you got some stares from the people nearby, but you couldn’t care less in your state. Finally, you landed an internship offer! “It’s totally the blazer’s doing though,” Jaehyun added cheekily, his smile turning into a crooked, almost cocky one.

“Yeah, totally, me and your emotional support blazer against the world,” you replied in a similarly teasing tone, and let out a laugh at the same time as the boy did. Gosh, who would have thought that you would meet him for the first time on the day you interviewed for the company, and you would meet him again when you were notified of your result?

Maybe he was really your lucky charm.

“You gotta celebrate though. Let’s order cake! I think I saw some cakes on the menu, and before you object, it’s on me,” the boy announced matter-of-factly, and grabbed a menu from a nearby empty table. You shook your head, seeing his pumped up state, since you couldn’t believe that he was so supportive of you. After all, you had barely met a week ago, and still, he acted as if you had always known each other, and it warmed your heart.

In the end, you did order some cakes (and you let Jaehyun pay for them), and while you were munching on them, you talked… and talked… and talked some more since it seemed that you could never run out of things to share. First and foremost, Jaehyun always had a story to share - mostly chaotic, yet partly cute ones -, and even if he didn’t, he always asked about your side, and it was just so easy to talk to him. Usually, you needed some time to open up to people, but he made talking to him feel so easy, so light, so comfortable.

Your favourite was when he insisted that he looked like a wolf, and pouted when you agreed with all his friends who said that he looked more like a puppy. When you added that if not a puppy, you saw him as a bunny, he perked up because that was the first time he heard about it. Never have you ever thought that a boy like him could get so specific about the animal he resembled, but you let him talk about it all he wanted to see those eyes shining so bright, to see that smile stretching so wide.

You packed up only when the waitress came by to tell you that you were nearing closing hours, and if that wasn’t a sign that you did lose track of time beside him, you had no idea what could indicate it more that beside him, you wanted to stop time, not wait for it to go by faster.

You had one crush in your whole life, and that had been when you had been 12, and the new kid had entered your class, and he had sat beside you. Said kid had turned out to be a total nutcase when he had opened his mouth, and you had officially dropped your crush 3 weeks into the new school year, and ever since then, you had never felt butterflies in your stomach, let alone declare your love for someone.

Until him.

Jaehyun had too many crushes in his life to count. His heart was just as erratic as his life, and it’s not that he was playing with others’ feelings, it’s more like he had too much love and joy to give others, but they didn’t always appreciate it. He fell in love easily, only to have his heart broken even more easily because his crushes had never liked him back.

Until you.

At first, you didn’t know if he felt the same way because he seemed so casual, you found it hard to believe that he could see you as more than a friend.

At first, he didn’t know if you felt the same way because you seemed so cool, so put together, he found it hard to believe that you could see him as more than a friend with his very different (and very chaotic) self.

Then, you started picking up on the signs: the way he showed you his dance practice routines to ask for your opinion when it was just the two of you at the dance studio he attended; the way he was ever so oblivious to the barista girl at a café because he only had eyes for you; the way he always asked about your day on KKT and sent memes to match your mood; the way he remembered every little thing - the date of your first 1-on-1 with your manager during your internship or when you would go to the dentist - despite telling you that his memory was terrible, and when he sent you photos of clothes that he thought you would like when he was shopping.

Then, he started picking up on the signs: the way you always gave him a detailed feedback on his choreographies when he asked you to even though you said you didn’t know anything about dance; the way you totally didn’t want to acknowledge that a guy was trying to flirt with you when you went to the cinema together and said that you were with Jaehyun as if to signal that there was no room for anyone else (his heart did a thing there, he couldn’t lie); the way you always knew what to say when he doubted himself or he was under the weather and sent him songs to make him feel better; the way you remembered every little thing - his favourite colour, the brand of his favourite snack and the plushies he wanted to win in the arcade game -, and how you kept bringing up his emotional support blazer because this was your little joke, this was your little thing.

No wonder this was how he confessed: buying you the exact same blazer in your size, and saying that you could think of it as your own emotional support blazer from now on or a couple item, you could choose.

And you would be foolish not to choose the latter.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for BOYNEXTDOOR or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[fawnprincessblog]

𝒜𝓃𝓰𝓮𝓁'𝓈 𝒹𝓮𝓋𝓮𝓁𝓸𝓅𝓂𝓮𝓃𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓇𝓎.

(part 1: 'the praise and some coffee') type: slow burn, fluff (tom kaulitz 2015 × fem reader)

includes : teacher × student, childish annoying immature school girl who's name is Angel (you), teacher tom, wannabe teacher's pet, age gap. tom is 25, angel is 17. plot : angel, a young, childish and innocent honour student was shunned by her schoolmates due to her being a teacher's pet, but none of that mattered whenever she ran into her favorite teacher, Tom, that she so deeply admired, who she swears on her life she will serve until the day she dies. despite being favourited by many other teachers, tom does not favour her due to her clingy behaviour. she may be smart but her hormones play a huge part in her schooling life as well.

bambi's note! : hello sweeties :3 i don't really wanna explain much but i think you guys will be sick of hearing the same lame excuse to why i disappear quite frequently. writer block makes me want to suicide sometimes, i've been trying my hardest to write, this took me months to finally put tgt. crazy that it's short too. i have drafts from last year in my docs. im also an art student, so it makes it hard to tackle both things rn. anyway, have fun reading part one of 'Angel's development diary ' :3

“Everyone now turn to page 74,” Tom instructs, his voice sharp and echoing across the classroom. The whole room was silent, only he could be heard. Nobody would disrespect a man like him, for he was rather strict, and serious, his only intention being to get his point across and educate his students. That’s what the majority saw in him. 

Well, except for one person. That was Angel. The honour student of her class.

Angel saw what other people did not care about. Despite being the very sophisticated and refined teacher everyone knew, to her he was so much more. Tom was a young, 25 year-old Maths teacher. She admired that strong body structure of his, and the way his face features all fit together. The way his hair was always worn in a messy bun, a few strands poking out the front, had just added to his good looks. He wasn’t over-dressed, like those wannabe scientists-looking teachers in her physics classes; he was rather usually seen in t-shirts. On special occasions, she got to see him in a suit. 

He wasn’t the kind to play around. He expected all his students to pass his class with flying colours, not one left behind. In fact, all teachers wished the same. In such a popular and very high-class school, of course every single student had to be well-behaved and supremely knowledgeable.

The school Angel went to was one with a high standard of academic and extracurricular achievements. It has a strong emphasis on academics and often has a highly selective acceptance rate, which makes it difficult to get in. She was quite lucky. The campus has beautiful architecture, state-of-the-art facilities, and ample resources for students' academic and personal development. The faculty members are very well-educated and experienced in their respective fields, and the school often has a high student-teacher ratio. The students are often from wealthy families with a strong academic focus, and the school often boasts a high graduation rate. 

Coming from such a school that was great and had put Angel’s reputation in great hands meant no mistakes were to be made at all. She had to maintain her good grades. And one thing is for sure: she couldn’t possibly keep having dirty thoughts about her teacher. 

“Hey, you,” Tom called out, snapping his fingers twice. “Angel?” 

She snapped out of her trance almost immediately, a little startled by his tone. “Oh—yes?” she responds, heat evidently rising in her cheeks the moment he had called out her name. Oh, when he said her name, it only served to heighten her arousal. His voice was so strong and firm, it made her squirm in her seat like a damn worm. All those dirty thoughts wouldn’t go away. 

“Are you gonna pay attention? Or is daydreaming the only thing you like to do?” Tom asked, folding his muscular arms across his chest, staring right into her soul. He had this scary glare that usually put most students in fear, but to her, it was attractive. His dominant demeanour when teaching a lesson made her imagine all these horrendous things, like how he was in bed. 

“N-No—! Um, I was listening,” Angel responds, clearing her throat. She shifted a little in her seat, tugging at the hem of her red plaid skirt. She was wet. So uncomfortably wet and aroused, she would’ve probably left a stain on the chair if she had gotten up.

“I hope so,” Tom grunted, turning back to the chalkboard to continue writing those endless amounts of Math sums. It was overwhelming to look at; all of the numbers bunched together, the dusty residue of the chalk making it even worse. It was a lot to take in, however that was just how it was. 

His teaching continued, his voice loud and clear. Angel diligently started writing down her notes, trying to keep up with his pace. Being such a good student, she had become fond of his teachings, and she was expected to have one of the highest marks among the rest, even if everyone else was already good. 

An honour student. That’s what she was. Supposedly, she was the teacher’s pet. 

She did well, joined every possible club and involved herself in every school event, making sure she was obtaining high merit points that boosted her reputation in her school. Angel was simply a good little girl that most teachers did like, but the other students, and for some reason, Tom, did not like her. They found her exasperating. 

The bell rings. Class is over, and Tom is preparing a stack of worksheets to hand out to the class on the way out. “Alright class, tomorrow I wanna see all your worksheets full of numbers. All correct and no mistakes. I believe I’ve taught you all enough on this topic, so I expect perfect answers,” he announces. “You can pack up and leave now.” 

“Sir!” Angel calls out, rising from her seat abruptly, making everyone else pause from their packing up. Majority rolled their eyes. “You forgot to take attendance. Usually you take attendance every morning before class but since you forgot the checklist you said you would—”

“Right, right, okay,” Tom interrupts, an exasperated sigh followed right after. Clearly, he was pissed. Angel was quite aware that he disliked her try-hard behaviour, in fact, she was aware everyone did. Of course as an honour student she was made to please the teachers with good grades and behaviour, but the other students knew clearly she acted the most clingy around Tom. She saw past his strict demeanour and she acted like a child around him. Always trying to point out the simplest things, always reminding him about his meetings, always trying to get him his coffee, always trying to help him out at any damn chance she got— Angel was desperate and needy for his love. She was willing to make him love her. She wanted to be his favourite student. 

He notwithstanding, saw her as a confounded girl who was beating a dead horse. A try-hard, annoying, clingy little bitch that stuck to him like a damn tick. It irritated him when she acted like his little servant. 

But Angel liked it. She didn’t care. 

“Since you wanna help so much, get the checklist for me,” Tom tells her rather bluntly, clicking a pen in his hand as he speaks. Angel’s ears perk up at his request. “What? Really?” she asks, eyes full of joy. That annoying excited voice—it made his ears bleed.

“Go get it, it's in my office,” Tom says. “And hurry. Your classmates wanna leave class.” 

“Consider it done, sir!” she enthused, immediately dashing towards the door and running straight to his office. Like a little slave, she did everything for him.

Recess time. One of the times where Angel would bother her favourite teacher the most. Even if she was trying to be helpful, she usually came off as a nuisance. He was an earnest and disciplined man, always keeping up with his set schedule. During break he’d grab coffee in the teacher’s lounge, discuss some things with his colleagues, or he’d take the coffee straight to his office so he can finish up paperwork. However he wasn’t the only one who kept to his schedule…

“Hi sir,” she greeted excitedly, grinning like an idiot. She blocked him, not allowing him to continue walking through the school hallway, which was empty since everyone else was at the cafeteria. “Where will you be taking yourself to today? Do you need help with anything?

He lets out a breath, trying his hardest to not let her irritate him right now. Angel being around him was something he couldn’t possibly avoid. It was an everyday thing now. “No,” he said simply. He then looked around. “Do I look like I need help?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. Angel could tell, but she couldn’t be bothered. 

“You may not be holding anything that I could help you carry, but there’s other things I can help with,” Angel says. “Like, your coffee. Do you want me to get your coffee?” She was just so damn innocent  acting like a maid trying to please him with every chance she got. She really acted like life was all unicorns and rainbows, like she had not a single issue in the world.

“For the last time, I can get it myself. You’ve been asking this everyday now,” Tom sighs. “Shouldn’t you be eating? It’s recess. Go eat.”

“I already have,” Angel replies with that annoying giggle right after, making him clench his jaw. She was insufferable. That giggle was ingrained into his mind. He could recognise it from a mile away. 

“Okay, good. Now if you don’t mind, you can just mov—”

“One sachet of the coffee mix, two teaspoons of sugar and some milk to top it off,” she interrupted, making him raise an eyebrow. “You use the blue mug. Always the blue mug,” she added.

“You know my coffee?” he asked, a little disturbed by her knowledge on how he liked his coffee. His eyes narrowed to slits, peering at her.

“Yep,” she replies, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. To him, she was a complete stalker at this point. “You have about 12 minutes to go to the teacher’s lounge and get your coffee, and return back to your office to finish marking off the recent test you gave us before you have to rush to the meeting you have with Mr.Harrison about the new changes we’re making to the school’s mural art.” 

“What?” he said, almost wanting to laugh in disbelief. That was way too many words for him to comprehend. “You know my schedule?” 

“Well I memorised it,” she shrugged. “Tuesday’s and Fridays you stay in your office during break. All the other days you’re eating at the teacher’s lounge.

What the hell, he thought, looking at her with the most perplexed look he’s ever plastered onto his perfect face. “What are you doing, stalking me? My schedule is printed on paper and left in the drawer of my desk—”

“It’s also printed in my mind,” she joked, pointing a finger to her temple. 

He looks at her, bewildered. Completely uneasy. He didn’t like this. He knew she always had this weird thing for him, but he didn’t think she was this peculiar, knowing his schedule and all. Tom was taken aback by her behaviour, but he remained unruffled for now. It wasn’t too surprising, since she had been doing this for a while; asking him if she could get his coffee, but he had always declined. In the past, she had been randomly reminding him about his meetings, or anything he planned to do on that day, which he also found annoying, but today she really surprised him, wording out his entire plan for today.  

He cleared his throat. “Well, I know my own schedule, I don’t need you to tell me,” he says.

“I know. You’re very smart. But, I figured you’d like help,” she says, grinning. 

He had to get rid of her. This damn pest of a student. “I don’t. Not right now. So, If you don’t mind, Angel, please move aside so I can go.” He tries to walk past her, but she stubbornly blocks him again. 

“C’mon, I’m sure you need someone to get your coffee,” Angel insisted, looking at him with those set of pathetic eyes, ones that he insanely hated to look at. She was small, pretty, and sweet, but she was tiring. He didn’t like her. “Angel…” he sighed, wanting to snap at her, but he held back; he may be strict, but there was no reason to be shouting at a student who just wanted to help so badly, right? “...Fine. Get my coffee, bring it to my office. Now.” he finally relented, looking down at her rather annoyed that he had forced himself to give in. Oh, she really had her ways. 

“Yes, sir!” Angel exclaims, smiling widely, and she dashed off, disappearing immediately. Tom folded his arms, watching the pesky little girl run off to get his coffee like a slave. She obeyed him so much, wanting to do anything just for his attention. He chuckled a little, he couldn’t help himself.

“One coffee,” she says, placing the blue ceramic mug onto his desk slowly, as if she were a waitress. Tom had been busy on his computer, going over some emails while waiting. She had returned rather quickly. Tom flashed her a faint smile, and he took the cup, taking a small sip. She had got it right. It tasted exactly like how he wanted. 

Wait for the praise, wait for the praise, Angel thought in her mind, eagerly looking at him for a positive reaction with big, innocent eyes. 

“It’s exactly how I like it, Angel,” Tom finally says, looking up at her. He noticed her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her school skirt. “Good job,” he finally praised, his voice low and soothing. 

Angel’s cheeks immediately flushed pink. Everytime he gave her praise, her arousal hit her like a brick. She couldn’t contain herself. She could already feel herself soaking her panties. “N-No problem, sir…” Angel says, her lips slowly curling into a nervous grin. She squeezed her thighs together a little, trying to contain herself. 

“You may go now,” he says. 

“Y-Yes,” she nods, bowing a little as a sign of respect. She then left.

Tom did not know the effect he had on this girl. If only he could ease that ache.

[pricegouge]

nik falls in love with you the first time he meets you, i think

when you first pull up behind the old beater truck you think nothing of it, inspecting the rusted out tailgate with a critical eye. you note the dirt above the wheel well disinterestedly and move on, climbing out of your low coup with a sigh at the bite of frost in the air. small cars were great in that it didn't take long to fill the tank, which meant less time spent in the frigid open air by the gas pump, but awful in that a small tank meant more frequent stops, like a kid after a theater soda.

you've only just selected your fuel grade when the owner of the truck sidles up, resting a fresh tall coffee from the shop on the roof as he blocks off the pump, sets about wiping his windshields with the squeegee. you wonder if the old girl even has windshield washer fluid in her.

it's hard to avoid watching him work. he's handsome. burly. well dressed, though the clothes themselves looked nearly as old and ragged as his truck. he catches you watching interestedly when your pump chunks loudly, tank full, but you're too interested in the way he leans casually over the truck bed to reach the middle panel of the back window.

(can you be expected to look away when you note he's tall enough to reach without issue? the soft roll of his diaphragm bulging over the bed?)

the man works his palm back across his slicked hair, smoothing it unnecessarily. his eyes are bright as he eyes you over and you take it unflinchingly, emboldened by the obvious interest you see there.

until his eyes rake over the hood of your car and the corner of his mouth drags into a smirk, one you've seen too many times before.

"it's a base model," you interrupt before he can even speak, but the man is unperturbed.

"i see that," he hedges in a thick russian accent. odd, what with the old beater and the local plates. "twenty ninteen?"

you're taken aback, but only slightly, your car's make notorious enough to garner attention, though not usually enough to keep it past 'it's the cheap model'. "Yeah," you concede, finally remembering to return the nozzle to its holster. you reassess the truck in front of you, once written off as the product of poverty or carelessness, you can see now that it's taken years of care to even get such an old beast to stay alive this long. it's a breath of fresh air, really. the kind of Car Guys your little speedster usually attracted were self-centered little twerps more worried about spoilers than... whatever the important bits of machinery were that kept a car moving, but here was a full grown man taking note. maybe the cheap little coup wasn't so bad after all...?

"you'll want to keep an eye on that timing chain."

"pardon?"

the man just laughs as he straightens out. you wait patiently for him to walk around the hood and return the squeegee. standing much closer to you now, he wipes his hands off on his jeans and you note his cracked knuckles, callused but well-suited for the cold. "the timing chain. sobach'ye der'mo, that car. does it like to shift when the engine's cold?"

you remember running late the other morning, the way the car had shook when you'd approached the stop sign at the end of your street after starting and dashing. "no."

his hair barely moves when he shakes his head, product too thick along his roots. it should maybe gross you out but it doesn't, just lends itself to his specifically eastern european charm. "it will start with cam shaft error codes - probably around seventy five thousand miles. don't listen. take it to me, da?" the card he proffers is simply designed, but effective. his name is nikolai and he owns a local shop - one you pass daily, actually. you run by it in your memories now, re-evaluate the classic models that proudly line the lot with a fresh eye.

"and what if i'm past that mileage?" you ask slyly, pocketing his card.

(breast pocket, hoping he notes your finger bosts no ring as you do so.)

nikolai pulls a deep sigh, expression the very image of concern when he informs you of your dire situation. "then you should bring it in straight away. these problems... let us just hope it's not too late."

your laugh is a bubbly thing, too bright, but nikolai doesn't know you from adam so you play it off as best you can. there's no hiding the shiver you emit when the next strong gust of wind rolls though, however, and your companion urges you back to the the driver's door insistantly with a heavy hand at the small of your back. he apologizes for keeping you even though he didn't and waits to make sure you'll call him before closing the door after you. he makes no attempt to hide the way he listens to your engine when you start and you don't know what else to do but shrug and wave when he looks back at you disapprovingly at whatever it is he hears.

stuck behind him, you watch as he clambers back into his truck, trying not to be distracted by the way his hammies test the inseam of his jeans when he makes the climb up - no runners, no lift kit. old-school.

you're still lost in your day dreams when his engine turns over with a purr, sighing wistfully when his tail lights turn on. it takes a moment to register the picture, the asymmetrical vision before you. you have enough sense to honk before opening your door, grabbing his attention so he doesn't drive off before you can collect his coffee from his roof.

you take the time to read the scrawled name on the side as he lowers the window - a task, what with the hand crank.

"do you spell it with a 'c'?" you ask, turning the cup so the americanized version of his shortened name faces him. when he simply replies negatively with a soft smile, you can't help but return the expression.

"thought not. just asking so i know how to save you in my phone."

[sailortongue]

Sweet Tooth

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: 4.5k

summary: spencer finds himself frequenting a local donut establishment for more reasons than one. his sweet tooth isn't limited to just pastries and he bets you'd taste delicious

cw: oral (fem receiving), fingering. pls pls pls let me know if i missed smth but i think those are the only major things

------

It was widely known that Spencer was fond of overly sweet coffee, but his sweet tooth was not limited to just his morning pick-me-up. The team had recently wrapped up with a rather grueling case, and he thought he’d surprise them all with donuts that morning. So there he was, in the local donut shop, staring at what must have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The way the early morning light shone in through the windows and illuminated you was truly breathtaking. Try as he might, he stumbled over the order, embarrassing himself in front of you and surely ruining his chances of you liking him.

You could tell he was flustered, so you did your best to suppress your giggles. He was cute. Very cute. This was the first time you had seen him come into the store, and you were hoping it wasn’t the last. He paid for his order and you boxed it up, receiving a shy smile from him as you handed it to him. “Thank you,” he said, before turning and walking out quickly, the bell above the door chiming.

It was a little over a week before you saw him again. He greeted you with a “good morning” as he walked in and approached the counter.

“Good morning!” you said back cheerily, glad to see that he had returned. He scanned the selection of confections before selecting a chocolate donut with sprinkles.

“Huh, I thought you’d be more of a donut hole kind of guy,” you said, trying to make conversation with the handsome man.

He laughed a bit and shook his head. “No, chocolate and sprinkles are definitely the best. They've been my favorite since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? I think if I was to pick a favorite it would have to be the apple fritter.”

Not missing the chance to learn about you, even if it was just your favorite donut, he asked, “Why that one? Not that it's a bad choice, but most people seem to prefer the chocolate and glazed.”

You laughed and Spencer swore his heart melted right then and there. “Well, they're my dad’s favorite. And every time he had one he would split it between us. So not only is it delicious, but it reminds me of my childhood.”

He smiled at your wholesome reason and before he could stop himself he said, “That’s really cute.”

You blushed, consumed with the thought that he considered something about you was cute, even if it was something so minor as to why your favorite donut is what it is. God, you didn't even know his name and there you were, developing a crush. Your eyes met his, and you were awestruck at how warm and inviting they looked. He had these expressive brown eyes that you could get lost in if you allowed yourself to. You shook your head from your thoughts, realizing you were probably freaking him out. He was just here for a donut and here you were staring at him like some creep. You hadn’t even bagged it for him yet. Pull yourself together you chastised yourself internally, finally breaking eye contact and doing your job like a normal person.

When you handed him the bag he briefly glanced down at your name tag. “Thanks, Yn,” he said, giving you a small smile. What a pretty name, he thought.

“No problem, have a good day…” you trailed off, hoping he would introduce himself. It was only fair since he knew your name.

“Spencer,” he filled in for you.

“Spencer,” you repeated. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

–❀– 

Next time turned out to be three days later. You were back in the kitchen, not expecting a customer to be there so early until you heard the bell chime. “I’ll be right there!” you called out. You quickly rinsed your hands and were still drying them on a towel when you walked out to see a familiar mop of brown hair. “Spencer! Good morning!”

He chuckled, “Good morning, Yn.”

“Chocolate with sprinkles?” you asked, remembering his favorite.

“You remembered?”

“You’re beginning to become a regular, and I make it a point to memorize those orders.”

Spencer’s smile dropped a bit, somewhat disheartened that it was something you did for all customers and not just him.

You didn’t notice the slight change in his expression and continued, deciding to take a chance. “Plus, it’s hard to forget the cute customers.”

Spencer’s face instantly flushed crimson, all logical thought leaving him. So much for his high IQ. His mouth opened and closed again, desperately trying to formulate some sort of response. But Spencer couldn't even think straight. His thoughts were in a flurry and every single one was about you.

Seeing his reaction, you backpedaled as fast as you could. “I’m sorry. That was too forward of me. I don’t know why I said that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—”

“It’s perfectly alright.” He cut off your frantic apology. “You didn't make me uncomfortable at all. I’m actually quite flattered that you find me as attractive as I find you.”

It was your turn to be speechless. When his words fully sunk in, you couldn't stop the wide smile and giggle that bubbled forth. This man was going to be the death of you. “So, uh,” he started nervously, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You beamed at him. “Yes, of course!” You went to the register and rang him up, writing your phone number on his receipt before handing it to him. He dialed it into his phone, and you heard your phone ringing faintly from the break room where you had left it. “There,” he said. “Now you have my number, too.”

–❀–

Your morning rendezvous with Spencer quickly became the highlight of your week. He was always dressed professionally, and you finally decided to ask him where he worked. The two of you talked about nearly everything under the sun, so you were shocked when you came to the realization that you didn't even know what he did for work.

The next time he came in, you practically ambushed him with your question. His eyes widened in surprise, “Oh, I’m an agent with the BAU. Did I not tell you that?”

“No, you did not. What’s the BAU?”

“It stands for behavioral analysis unit. It’s a department of the FBI. We analyze the unsub’s-”

“Unsub?” you interrupted.

“Unidentified subject. So what we do is analyze the unsub’s actions and behavior and create a profile to better understand how and why they do what they do. This is what allows us to determine the identity of the unsub and arrest them.”

Your jaw had dropped open during his explanation. The guy you’d been casually talking to turned out to be an FBI agent. Cute and badass.

Becoming shy from the attention, he changed the subject to something he’d been wanting to ask you. “So, Yn, would you be interested in meeting somewhere other than here? When you're not at work and I don't have to go to my own job?”

Your face flushed with heat, and your heart pounded in your chest. “Like a date?”

Trusting that your hopeful expression was a good indication, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, like a date.”

The bright smile you gave him at his confirmation would live in Spencer’s mind for the rest of the day.

“I’m free this weekend,” you suggested.

–❀–

And just like that, it became a routine for Spencer to visit the shop at least once a week. He began to find himself getting up earlier and earlier each day just so he could stay and talk with you for longer. The physical attraction was instant from the first moment he saw you, but now that he was truly getting to know you he was falling and falling fast. You had this light about you that Spencer couldn't put into words, even with his impressive vocabulary. 

Reid’s highly observant coworkers were quick to notice his frequent morning donut runs. He never ate them at the shop, choosing to use that time to visit with you. Instead, he waited until he got to the office so he could enjoy the sweet goodness with his daily cup of coffee. And today was no exception.

“All those donuts are going to catch up with you one day, Reid,” Prentiss teased. “You can't be skinny forever.”

“So be it. She's worth it,” replied Spencer, taking another bite, sprinkles falling onto the napkin he’d placed on his desk.

“She?” Morgan raised his brows, a grin spreading across his face as he turned in his chair to face the young doctor.

Spencer’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on his food, trying to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. “I meant they. They’re worth it. The donuts.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. So what’s her name?”

Spencer sighed. “Yn.” That was all he said as he pulled his paperwork towards himself. No point in denying it when they were already certain. 

“Woah, woah, you can't just leave it at that! Tell us about her. What's she like and how did you meet? Spill everything.” 

Spencer merely took another bite of his donut, a smug smirk on his face for withholding the information his colleagues were so curious about.

For the rest of the day, Morgan and Prentiss attempted to convince Spencer to divulge his sweet secret. After another failed attempt, it finally hit Morgan, and he had to admit he felt very silly for it. He waited until Spencer left on his lunch break before he approached Emily’s desk.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.

“What’s up is that Hotch should probably reconsider our positions on the team,” he joked. “The donut bag. It’s in Reid’s personal mini trash can under his desk. All we have to do is look at it real quick and we’ll know exactly which shop he goes to!”

Emily laughed, amused how it took so long for one of them to think of that. “Then what are we waiting for? Let's go dig in the doctor’s trash.”

They both stood and went over to Spencer’s desk. Morgan reached under and pulled out the small trash can, plucking the crumpled bag from the top. As he flattened the bag back out, a voice startled the two of them and they spun around in unison, like two kids that had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Why are you two digging in the kid’s trash?”

“Reid has a girl in his life and if he wont tell us then we’re gonna find out ourselves. She’s either a regular at this place—” he held up the bag, displaying the logo for Rossi to see, “—or she works there.”

“Hm. I see. Carry on, then,” was all he said before continuing on his way.

The younger agents turned their attention back to what they were digging for. “Meche’s Donuts,” they both read aloud.

“Pretty sure that’s close to Reid’s place. Y’know, I think some donuts tomorrow morning would be great, don’t you?”

“Now that you say it, yeah, donuts would be good. Meet you there at 8:00?”

“You bet.” He recrumpled the bag and replaced the trash can as it was.

When Reid returned, he didn't notice the look his friends exchanged and was none the wiser.

–❀–

The next morning, both Emily and Derek got up earlier than usual and met in the parking lot of Meche’s. They approached the building, and Derek held open the door for Emily, the bell chiming to notify you of a customer’s arrival.

“Good morning!” you greeted like usual.

They returned your greeting as they neared the counter, both of their sights narrowing in on your name tag: Yn.

“Has a guy named Spencer Reid been here today?” Morgan asked, never one to beat around the bush.

“No, do you know him?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah, we’re friends of his. We noticed that his sweet tooth has been getting the better of him lately. Lots of donuts,” he smirked, gesturing down to the transparent display. “Pretty boy had a bit of a slip up and told us that it was because of a girl, but wouldn’t tell us anything else. So we decided to do a bit of sleuthing.”

“And here we are,” finished Emily. “I’m Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Agent Derek Morgan. Promise we’re not creeps, this is just the first time we’ve known him to have a crush on someone and we wanted to know what you looked like. He’s got good taste at least.”

You laughed good-naturedly, “Don't worry about it. We have a date scheduled for this weekend actually.”

Emily ooohed like a schoolgirl. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I’m dying to know. What is Spencer’s idea of a date? Bet he takes you to a bookstore.”

“Or a foreign movie,” interjected Morgan. “With no subtitles, so he can whisper the translations in your ear.”

–❀–

Saturday

You were getting ready for your date with Spencer when you heard your phone ring. The caller ID told you that it was Spencer calling and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I was just calling to let you know I’m on my way.”

“Ok, perfect! I’m almost done getting ready. You remember the address?”

He laughed. “Of course I remember. There’s not much I don’t remember.”

“Oh, my bad Dr. Reid. We can't all be super geniuses with an eidetic memory.”

The two of you talked and joked with each other until Spencer told you that he was parking and would be up in a moment to meet you at the door. All you had to do was quickly slip your shoes on and you were ready.

Three sharp raps sounded from the door, and you peeked through the peephole before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

He seemed stunned for a second, just taking in your appearance. “Wow,” was all he could think to say. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look very handsome,” you returned the compliment. And he did, as always. He was probably the only guy you knew who could pull off a sweater vest. He may dress like an old man, but damn did he make it work.

Turns out that he picked out some hole in the wall diner you’d never even heard of. But he swore by their food and claimed it was some of the best in town. Also that they made a mean bread pudding. A broad smile overtook his features when he saw your eyes light up at the mention of the dessert. He’d recalled from a previous conversation that it was your favorite and had made sure to choose a restaurant that had it on the dessert menu.

The meal was spent indulging in a lively conversation about all of your favorite books. He even suggested a book exchange; he’d load you his favorite, and you’d loan him yours. Though you did warn him that you might have to pick up a new copy first, as yours was particularly old  and practically on the verge of disintegrating in your hands.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said.

“No, it is!” you insisted. “The last time I read it I looked down and there were a bunch of particles on my lap from the pages.”

After picking up the check at the diner, Spencer informed you that there was a movie he wanted to take you to. “It’s a Russian movie, and I’m not sure if there’s subtitles or not, but I can whisper the translations for you. But I definitely think you’ll enjoy the plot.”

You thought back to what Morgan said when he and Emily visited you. Morgan: 1, Emily: 0. 

Turns out, there were, in fact, subtitles. However, Spencer claimed those weren't very accurate to the tone of the movie and chose to give you his own translations anyway. In order to not disturb other movie goers, he had to lean in to whisper, so close that his lips would occasionally brush the shell of your ear. If not for the fact you were already sitting, you thought your knees would have given out. The low timbre of his voice traveled straight from your eardrum all the way to your core. You tried to pay attention to the movie, you really did, but the gentle rasp of Spencer’s voice in your ear had you beyond distracted. He was so close. Between the close proximity and his voice, your panties were quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky which led you to squirm in your seat occasionally. 

Spencer, the hyper-observant profiler that he was, noticed your pitiful attempts to adjust the way you were sitting. “Are you ok?” he asked, interrupting his translation mid sentence.

“Yes!” you answered hurriedly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat nervously and hoped he would let it go. You could see a slight frown form on his face before it looked as if a metaphorical lightbulb went off over his head.

He resumed his position near your face, once again whispering to you, but not translations this time. No, this time it was as if a switch had flipped inside the sweet man you’d become so fond of. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you like having me so close to you. Isn't that right, Yn?”

The way he whispered your name so sensually had your heart beating out of your chest and your breath hitching in response. His laughter came out as a huff, trying to stay quiet. “Think you can wait until the end of the movie?” he asked with a suggestive lilt to his words.

You both knew the answer, but you pretended to think about it in an effort to spare at least some of your dignity. “No,” you answered with your head down, almost ashamed at how easily Spencer had riled you up.

“‘No’ what? Use your words, sweetheart.”

To hell with your dignity. “No, I can't wait. I want you now.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat as he stood. He led you out the doors and to the parking lot, heading straight for his car.

“Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” he answered swiftly as he put his hand on the back of your seat to back out of the parking spot. 

The ride to his apartment was spent mostly in silence, both of you tense for all the best reasons. At one of the red lights he’d made the bold move to relocate one of his hands from the steering wheel to your left thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth and gently squeezing it every now and then. Every squeeze sent a bolt of electricity to your center and you were getting needier by the second.

–❀–

As soon as his apartment door shut behind him, his mouth was on yours, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. With both hands on either side of your face, he licked the seam of your lips impatiently, wanting nothing more than to taste you. You obliged, and his tongue snaked its way into your mouth, intertwining with yours. He groaned into the kiss, unable to get enough of you. Pulling away from your lips, he kissed down your jaw and neck slowly, deliberately. Taking his time to leave dark marks in his wake. He took a deep breath in through his nose. “You have no idea what this perfume was doing to me at the movie. Could barely even translate for you,” he mumbled into your skin.

“Bedroom?” you asked, near breathless with anticipation but not particularly wanting to get fucked in his entryway.

He led you through his apartment to his bedroom where Spencer wasted no time reconnecting his lips to yours, backing you up until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, prompting you to sit. Before you could lay down, his hands tugged on the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off of you, hm?”

He made quick work of the cloth and tossed it aside “God, you're so pretty. Lay down for me, sweetheart,” he said. You flushed and did as he told you, scooting yourself higher up on the bed before laying your head onto his pillows. He removed both his sweater vest and shirt before eagerly crawling atop you. He propped himself up on his elbows, his face aligned with yours. You impatiently leaned up to kiss him again, and you could feel him grinning into the harsh kiss before kissing you back. His hands wandered across your body, settling on your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and pressed your chest further into his large hands, your hips bucking up, seeking the friction you so desperately wanted. 

He chuckled, removing his hands from your breasts to your hips and holding them down, preventing you from moving them and eliciting a whine from you. “Patience, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Promise.” His voice was low and gravelly, his lips pressed against the skin just under the skin of your earlobe. He suckled the skin lightly as one hand came up behind your back, unclasping your bra and giving it the same treatment he gave your shirt. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of seeing you half naked beneath him. This felt like a dream come true to Spencer and it was taking everything he had to not throw his inhibitions out the window and ravish you right that second.

He groped your bare chest for a moment before leaning down to lick a stripe between them. He placed feather-light kisses across your skin, his hair falling over his face and tickling you where it brushed. His trail of kisses led him to one of your nipples, which he took in his mouth, sucking lightly. You gasped when he used his teeth to pull on it slightly. “Spencer!”

While his mouth was busy with one, he had a hand on the other, tweaking the bud between his nimble fingers. You raked your hands through his hair, holding him in place. The tug on his roots had Spencer groaning into your chest and increasing the intensity of his ministrations and suckling you more and more fervently with each tug of his hair and sweet moan from your lips. Satisfied, he released your bud with a slight pop and switched to the other side, determined to make you squirm and beg for him before he touched you properly. The hand that wasn't on your breast lowered from your waist to your hip, massaging the supple flesh.

“Please, Spencer,” you begged, needing so much more than he was currently giving you. You were aching for him, panties soaked with evidence of your want.

He released your nipple and tilted his head to look at your face, both of your pupils blown wide with lust. He cooed at you, “What does my pretty girl need? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You!” you cried. “I want you! Please, Spencer!”

He groaned, the sound low and guttural. “You already have me. I was yours from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” Your eyes softened from his words, and you watched him as he tilted his head back down, tracing his nose down your abdomen as he lowered himself further down the bed, his hands caressing your sides as he did so. He placed a chaste kiss just above the waistband of your bottoms before hooking his fingers under it. “May I?”

You nodded frantically, and he placed another kiss in the same spot as he pulled your shorts and panties down together, tantalizingly slowly. Finally seeing you completely bare before him had him nearly cumming in his pants on the spot. You were so perfect and he wanted to make you feel so good that the only name you knew was his. He ran his hands up your thighs and settled his head between them. “You're absolutely dripping for me, sweetheart.” Spencer was practically panting from the lust flowing through his veins. He placed a chaste kiss to your clit before tentatively licking your cunt. You let out a strangled moan, his hot tongue not providing near enough pressure.

“Don’t tease me, Spence,” you mewled, your hands weakly trying to push his head back down where you needed him.

“Savoring, baby, not teasing. I don’t want to forget a single moment of this.” With that said, he licked a broad stripe across your pussy, much more confident than the first time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, groaning into you. You cried out his name, grip on his hair tightening. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he said breathlessly before diving back in, slurping at you like a man starved. He hummed with bliss as he continued to eat you out, the vibrations adding to the stimulation. “So sweet, baby, oh my God,” he praised. He lifted your legs and placed them over his shoulders, pressing himself further into you as he wrapped his arms around your thighs.

It was all you could do to keep from screaming his name as he continued to lick and suck at the most intimate part of you. You thrashed in his hold, overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving you. He tightened his hold on your thighs, holding you open so he could continue to drink you in. He swore he would never be able to get enough of you. If this was the last thing he ever did then he'd die a happy man.

“C’mon, sweetheart, cum on my face. Give it to me. I want it,” he grunted. Without warning, he plunged a finger into you, causing you to cry out. He added a second finger shortly after, and he relished in the way your walls were squeezing around his fingers. You were so close and it was all because of him. With his fingers thrusting in and out of you and his mouth on your clit, you were finally pushed over the edge, cumming with a scream of Spencer’s name. He didn't stop until you were practically shoving him away, the overstimulation becoming too much. His face was covered in your juices, and you watched with rapt attention as he licked his lips before wrapping them around the two digits still covered with your wetness, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste as he did it.

Yeah, Spencer Reid definitely had a sweet tooth.

[mistydeyes]

Hello!! Could you do headcanons with the 141 boys with a partner who has frequent migraines and they are in the task force with them as well?

Honestly, any of these boys taking care of me while I have a migraine or just sick cures me in just a few seconds lol

thank you for requesting! I thought this was super cute to write and I was able to recall some of the non-harm methods for treating migraines :) I literally cannot even deal with a headache so I can't imagine what frequent migraines must feel like

migraines and forehead kisses

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summary: You've been diagnosed with frequent migraines but sometimes it is so unbearable that the 141 will step in and be sure to soothe their significant other.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x gn!Reader

warnings: none, all fluff :)

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price

most of the time, your migraines are triggered by stress or following a long, sleepless mission

price can tell when your in pain, especially when you close your eyes tightly or put your head in your hands

he'll rub your shoulders and offer to make you some coffee to help

he knows you are regimented about your medication so he often offers other methods of helping your headache

and as caffeine is the answer to all of price's problems, he immediately makes you a pot of coffee

as you put your head down on the table, you can smell the strong scent of coffee beans

"don't make it too strong" you mumble and he would laugh

it's a legitimate request as you have tried his coffee and you swear it would kill a small child

"here you go, love" he would say and presents you with a small mug

you're not sure if its the stimulants from the caffeine or just being back on base, but you're headache dissipates within moments

he'll continue to ask about your condition until you reassure him you're fine

"it's always the coffee"

he's so proud of it even though its something you can buy from the grocers

soap

when you first had a migraine, soap wanted to rush you to the infirmary

he practically loses it when you tell him how you can see an aura in your vision and how it feels like a jackhammer on your brain

only after you reassured him it was a reoccurring thing and you were diagnosed before you entered selection, he calms down

now he's an expert at helping you recover

you found that brufen helps the best and soap will always have it on hand

when you closed your eyes tightly on the plane and complained about the fluorescent overhead light, he immediately searched through his tac vest

"it's here somewhere," he would say as you could hear various zippers and velcro pockets being opened

eventually he opened your palm to offer you the small tablet

"you sure this isn't expired?" you asked and he reassured you he just got it from the chemist's last week

he handed you your flask of water and patted your back after you swallowed it

as you waited for the medication kick in, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder and draws circles into your back

"it'll be alright" he reassures and you have to tell him to lower his voice as it makes the migraine worse

he'll get it right one day

gaz

when you first told gaz you had frequent migraines, he spent all night looking up remedies

you already were on medication and had your analgesics at the ready so he focused on home remedies

for a few weeks, you both tried out various techniques (caffeine and essential oils being your least favorite)

eventually, you found that a good scalp massage was ideal for making the pain go away

something about increasing blood circulation

as long as you're not in the middle of an active war zone, he will gladly sit you in between his legs and give you the best massage in the world

he'll start at the base of your scalp and work his way up with his fingers

"just let me know if i'm hurting you, love," he'd reassure but his gentle touch always made you feel comforted

it honestly feels like one of those head scratchers but a thousand times better

you joke that he should've been a masseuse instead of joining the military

he'll hum lightly as he continues until you let him know that you're feeling better

you're more than happy to return the favor with his aching muscles (especially his back and shoulders)

ghost

you know your migraines are triggered after long mission briefings where you strain to look at the screen and through various floor plans

since they're unavoidable, ghost knows what to do when you exit the room and tell him you have a migraine

plays 20 questions with you and will ask if you tried everything

did you drink enough water? yes, you know me. took your paracetamol today? yeah tried that. what about your rizatriptan? you saw me take that before the briefing.

he'll sigh before offering you some other methods

"just follow me" he responds and you walk with him back to your quarters

he leaves the light off before returning from the bathroom with a cold, damp towel

before you can ask, he sits on the bed and motions for you to sit in between his legs

you compile and once you're comfortable, he places the cold compress over your eyes

despite the initial shock, it actually worked quite well and you swear you can fall asleep like this

ghost swears he heard you snoring but you deny it

now whenever you have a long briefing, you will follow the same routine and ghost gets to enjoy some quiet alone time with you

[coco-loco-nut]

The Manuscript

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader, Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: "write what you know/lookin' backwards/might be the only way to move forward"

A/n: Surprise, here is a gift from my breakup writing! This album didn't have one miss. Unfortunately, this is not inspired by my own breakup.

requests open masterlist series masterlist __________

You have been holed up in your apartment outside of Nice, France, having moved there from America after your first bestseller. The ocean and beach usually help you write, but you are stuck, so your friends drag you out to Monaco for a girl's weekend.

As you sip on your drink, a guy slides up to you at the bar next to your hotel. "I'm not a donor but I'd give you my heart if you needed it," he says, glancing at your license, and you turn to him, rolling your eyes.

"You are a professional," you take in the guy beside you. His eyes crinkle as he smiles.

"No, just a good samaritan," you let out a small laugh, tilting your head back and finishing your drink.

"A good samaritan would buy another round," your eyes sparkle playfully as he sits beside you, taking your silent invitation to flirt and talk. Your friends leave you alone for the rest of the night, happy to see you relaxed.

He takes you out for coffee the next morning, getting to know each other more. You find out some of the small things, he is 30, does something dangerous for a job, and you learn his first name.

"If the sex is as good as the conversation is, soon we might be pushing strollers," he teases. You become a frequent visitor to Monaco, spending passionate nights and quiet days in his insanely expensive apartment. You lay in bed, him stroking your hair, legs intertwined under the sheets, a light breeze flowing from the windows. You silently wished you were 30 too.

"You are wise beyond your years, this has really been above board, love," his accent soothing as he pulls you closer. You two were planning a year's worth of adventures with each other, you made your coffee together in a French press every morning, and things were going well. But soon it was over, and you weren't sure if things really were above board. Daniel Ricciardo was just a sad memory. You found out who he really was a year after they dated, seeing him in an ad on social media.

After the split, you booked a flight home, only sleeping in your mother's bed the week you were home, crying yourself to sleep. You only are Froot Loops and other children's cereal when she returned to her home in France and dated boys her own age, but they never worked out. You released another book, but it was missing something, your personal experiences were not infused into the book. It was still a best seller.

Years later, you returned to Monaco to celebrate her best friend's birthday where you met another boy your own age. He sees your disillusioned view of love and strives to turn it around. You sit in his apartment, a dartboard on the back of his door and you write and write.

The past couple years had passed by like scenes of a show. You had anonymously taken some writing and literature classes taught in English, your French was good but not that good. Your professor selected your first bestseller for one of the course texts. Thier statement regarding your book stuck with you the most. "Something I learned from Y/n L/n's debut book was to write what you know, looking backwards is sometimes the only way to move forward. She had said in interviews that she writes to heal and loves to infuse her life into her books, making it an intimate read," the professor had analyzed not only your books but also interviews. You approached the professor and introduced yourself, safe to say you didn't have to write an analysis paper on your book.

"How is your book?" your boyfriend asks as you furiously type, the actors hitting their marks.

"A wise professor once said to write what you know. Looking back might be the only way to move forward," you hum. He knew about your ex, but he only knows the ex's first name so he never thought much about the relationship despite you being open about it.

The slow dance of words was alight with sparks as tears fell from your eyes in sync with the score as you type the final words of your manuscript. Your boyfriend holds you close, eyes scanning the computer. At last, you knew what all the agony the last few years had been for.

Now and then you and your boyfriend reread the manuscript as it passes through editing. You go on an American book tour as he travels for work. You set up a camera for the book announcement, holding your book, simply titled 'The Manuscript'.

"To my ex, the only thing left is The Manuscript, one last souvenir from my trips to your shores. Dear readers, the story isn't mine anymore, it's yours," the short video goes viral. Your boyfriend sees a text pop up on your phone from a number you never bothered to block.

Daniel Ricciardo Y/n what the hell?

"Daniel Ricciardo was your ex?" Lando asks, never really putting the puzzle together.

"Yeah, he never even told me who he really was, I should've asked in fairness," you say cautiously. You noticed the next too.

"Well, I'm glad he didn't turn you off drivers. And I'm glad that I am the one who gets to love you," Lando hugs you, not mad at you for not disclosing that information.

"I love you, Lan, please don't give me a reason to write anything but a sweet romance book about you," you whisper, a silent plea to whoever decides fate.

"What about one of those smut books that girls like to take and read on vacation at the beach?" Lando jokes, your face flushing.

"Hmm, maybe," your smile lights up the room and Lando can't help but silently thank his former teammate for fucking up. Nothing satisfies both of you more than the look on Daniel's face when you show up to a grand prix on Lando's arm. You approach the Australian, fishing the book from your bag.

"Now and then I re-read The Manuscript, the story isn't mine anymore," you hand him the book, a handwritten note tucked into the pages as he watches you walk away. A reminder of everything he had and lost remains.

[creamhoodie]

Home To You

A/N: Drabble about dating Kento Nanami, he's away on a mission, phone sex, more fluff than anything, not really dialogue driven more narration driven

Protective. 

That’s the adjective that always comes to your mind when thinking of how to describe your boyfriend, Kento Nanami. 

The two of you had only been dating a year but boyfriend felt like too casual of a word to describe what he was to you, it was too juvenile of a word as well. Nanami was different from past boyfriends, he was grounded, more mature and serious about the relationship. 

“You can call me your suitor or lover if you’d like,” he had told you once between placing kisses down the trail of your neck, as he was fond of doing. So a lover to you he was. In the beginning he had admitted to you that he had been hesitant to take on a relationship given his work as a jujutsu sorcerer was both laborious and dangerous. He had always wanted to settle down but the idea of leaving behind the woman he loved should he ever not return home made him feel immense guilt. Fear couldn’t stop love however, and like a moth to flame he had been drawn to your warmth and kindness.

You, who he had met through a chance encounter at a coffee shop. You had ordered before him, coincidentally ordering his usual coffee of choice before settling down with said drink to type away at your laptop. He had thought you were beautiful the first time he ever saw you and you had thought he was handsome as well. Though it took about six routine encounters of this nature before he had finally decided to speak with you. He had made some joke about the two of you frequenting the shop so often and ordering the same drink, light banter about who had copied who had played out. Before he knew it you had made your way into his heart and there was no getting you out. 

On your first real date he had been transparent with you. 

“You fascinate me. I want to get to know you more but I need to let you know that being involved with me runs its own risks that I can’t in good faith keep hidden from you,” he had said. 

“Is that so?” you inquired. You knew a little of him already, about his previous employment as a stockbroker and based on this lavish restaurant with French cuisine he had brought to you, it was easy to estimate he was financially set. 

He had leaned forward, deep brown eyes peering at you from above his interesting frames. That’s when he had laid it all on you, the truth about the jujutsu sorcerer world. He already knew you couldn’t see curses with you having ignored a pathetic low level one that had clung to your dress earlier that night (he had eliminated it when you weren’t looking). Moreover, he didn’t sense a hint of cursed energy from you. You were perfectly normal. You could afford to look away and turn your back to his world, the way he had tried to but his morality and conscience had pulled him back in. 

“So you understand being with me has its risks. My enemies could try to use you as leverage against me. I want you to know I’d always do my utmost to protect you, but this is the situation you need to be aware of should you choose to continue to see me,” he had said fully expecting you to call him crazy, after all humans like you who couldn’t see curses didn’t know of them. The knowledge of the world of sorcery wasn’t common at all; only selected individuals were cursed with that burden, and now here he was pulling you, sweet innocent you into his world of peril and risk. 

Rather than calling for him to be committed, you had simply leaned in the way he had done telling him: “I’m not afraid.” 

Then he had made love to you that very night. It wasn’t his typical fashion to make love so soon as he didn’t want it to seem as he only wanted you for your body but the attraction between the two of you was so strong, a flickering candle that threatened to burst into a forest fire. In the end, he hadn’t been able to help himself. 

You had been just an equal of a participant, your hand having rested on his lap throughout dinner and never breaking contact with his own intense eyes. 

Those eyes that as he had made love to you, you were at last able to see full on without his peculiar lenses. In his dark room, lit only from the city lights shining in through the window of his penthouse apartment, fully undressed with his hair slicking down on his forehead he looked younger and more wild. He was chivalrous in bed, the focus on your pleasure yet he was still every bit as passionate as a man that had been craving this skin to skin contact for so long. His kisses were tongue filled and intoxicating, his strokes long and rhythmic each bringing you two closer to the climax of your symphony. 

Afterwards, when the two of you were laying in bed together, your face nuzzled into his chest as he stroked your hair, a thought occurred to him: who would protect you when he was away?

“I need to teach you some things, so you can defend yourself,” he said. 

From then on, he had given you a crash course of sorts about curses, their grade level and what to expect. Though you had no cursed energy of your own, he had insisted you keep at least two weapons imbued with cursed energy with you. One of the weapons was discreet enough to accompany you throughout the day in your purse. The other resided in his penthouse where you had moved in with him and it offered extra assurance for when he had to go away. 

Times like now. 

“Doors locked? Stove off?” He asked you over the phone.

“Yes, Kento,” you replied, settling down on the leather couch. These questions of his were routine check ups every night that he was gone and you were used to it. 

“What about the cursed weapons?” He asked. 

“I have them with me,” you replied, knowing they were underneath your shared bed as always. 

“Good girl and you have Gojo on speed dial?” he asked this last question, voice tight. He wasn’t particularly fond of his fellow sorcerer and he was even less fond of soliciting another man’s help in your protection, but Satoru Gojo wasn’t any ordinary man and if it meant you were safe then that was all that mattered. So despite being notoriously private, he had opened up to his white haired peer about his relationship with you and entrusted you in his care should an emergency arise while he was away. Gojo had been eager to oblige and maybe entrusting you with him was the truest testament for how much faith he had in the blue eyed sorcerer because you were more precious to Nanami than the blood in his veins. 

“Yes, Kento I do,” you replied. 

“That’s my good girl,” he said, finally allowing himself to breathe.

Always the same questions every night he was away, and it was always the same answers but they were the medicine he needed to soothe his worries, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Kento I miss you. It’s so lonely here without you,” you said.

Your voice was like honey and he could just imagine you, so small in comparison to him, curled up in either the bed or couch. 

“I miss you too. Every moment I’m away from you is excruciating,” he said truthfully. The hotel he was staying at was no substitute for his bed back home with you. 

He heard the shift in your breathing. Prompting him to ask: “are you touching yourself my darling?” 

“Yes,” you replied shyly at having been caught. 

He chuckled. 

“Keep going, you deserve to feel so good. You know I’d never deny you pleasure,” he said. He began to palm at himself through his pants, already sensing a hint of pre forming on the tip of his cock.

“Doesn’t feel as good as when you do it though, Kento,” you whined, though your panting let him know you were following his instruction to pleasure yourself all the same. 

He unzipped his pants, slipping his cock out of his boxers until he held it in his hand. As suspected, a waning drop of precum coated his pink base. 

“Believe me, angel I know. I miss your touch as well,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Should have taken me with ‘chu,” you said, words slurring into moans as you played with yourself. 

You had pitched that idea to him before, but the risk of you getting harmed in a mission was not one he was willing to take. He’d never forgive himself if you got hurt. 

All the same, with the way you were making him feel, he agreed that he wished you were here, lapping at the drop of pre that had dripped down his length. Oh how he’d love to have your mouth wrapped around him now like so many times before. 

“Ah-careful darling you’re making me regret leaving you behind,” he teased as he stroked himself. He imagined it was your hand getting him off, though his large veiny hand ruined the illusion yours were much more small and soft. 

His phone took the dial tone letting him know it was prompting him to accept a video call. 

Little minx, he thought to himself. 

He accepted the video chat. 

And there you sat, on the leather couch. The camera was facing your spread legs so he had a full view of your exposed sex as you fingered yourself. 

“Kento..” you moaned his name softly. 

He cursed, biting his lip so hard it drew blood as he continued to stroke himself. He flipped the camera so you could watch as he pleasured himself as well. 

“Look at what you do to me,” he said grunting at the sensitivity of the act. 

He was usually so well put together, a man of dignity, but only you were his undoing. 

“Want it inside me so bad,” you moaned. Trust, he wanted to be inside of you as well, he was addicted to the deep warmth only your cunt could provide. It was why despite working long hours and unpredictable overtime, he always made sure to sink himself into you. 

“Soon. When I get home it will be. Rub your clit for me,” he commanded. 

You did so, his name spilling from your lips in a completely desperate and frantic manner. He stroked himself faster now intent on finishing at the same time as you. 

“Kento.. so fucking close,” you whimpered.

“I know- ah fuck- I am too,” he replied, sounding every bit as lustful as you. 

It happened simultaneously, the two of you reaching your orgasm, and he let out a shaky grunt as his cum came in bursts. 

“I miss you so much, Kento,” you whispered, your voice had a hint of melancholy to it. 

“I miss you too,” he said. He didn’t mind the mess he had made because of you (even though before you he would have found it rather tedious) instead he found himself wishing you were here. That’s a bridge he could never cross though, your safety was everything and he couldn’t ever risk you being hurt. So instead the two of you would partake in this little dance: the routine questions and answers on the phone and the call of pleasuring each other.

“I love you. I know it’s hard right now but I’ll come home to you. I promise.”

And it’s a promise he intended to keep no matter what, because you made everything worth it. While his heart beats and as long as he has breath he’d find his way home to you.

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 3268

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ I’ve loved this man literally since I was thirteen…so it’s inevitable that I’d be writing something absolutely fucking filthy for him in my twenties…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), gaps in age and power, mutual masturbation, little bit of panty sniffing, a singular use of Y/N (I'm sorry, I hate it too but it was necessary), usage of pet names (sweetheart), general manipulation, slight praise kink, obvious disclaimer: the dynamic in this fic is just that, fictional, and should not be practiced in real life!! let me know if any other warnings are needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

You’d rarely had luck receiving any sort of grace from your professors. Sure, there were a select few that only wanted to see you succeed. However, more often than not you seemed to encounter sadists who decided to take their kinks out on exhausted college students. But you were convinced that Professor Winchester wouldn’t be like that.

For starters, he’d always been challenging but never malicious. Despite the fact that you’d registered for his Norse Mythology course with the assumption that it would be easy college credits, you quickly learned that his assignments were difficult. Every week there seemed to be about a hundred pages worth of reading, frequent essays, and an emphasis on class discussion.

Oh, did he love those class discussions. While most were less than enthusiastic to contribute to lengthy examinations of Eddic poetry at eight in the morning, Professor Winchester seemed to be none the wiser of this.

He was always squinting over his thin wire framed glasses, surveying the class. He’d stand at his desk, brushing his long hair behind his ear while looking over papers. When he’d listen he’d purse his lips and tilt his head, expression rife with genuine interest. In all of these moments, he was the most gorgeous. But more than that, you were fascinated with his mind.

Professor Winchester knew this material like the back of his hand; was able to pull references and quotes from various pieces of literature at the drop of a hat. He was the only professor who could ever give notes that were actually helpful on essays and he’d always been generous with handing out extra credit assignments. Which is what you aimed to obtain on this visit to his office.

You looked through the glass of his office door and saw him inside, working diligently at a dark oak wood desk. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and entered.

The hinges squeezed but Winchester seemed so fixated on whatever was before him that he only raised a finger, indicating for you to wait. So you did. Awkwardly. You rocked slightly on your heels, your stomach starting to twist in time with the movement. God, he looked like a dream lit by the stained glass banker's lamp as he graded papers.

In another world you could see him coming home from a long day, his body warm behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Smelling like black coffee and pencil shavings, you'd adoringly close your eyes, taking in his scent and ask him how his day went. He'd hum in contentment when resting his chin on your head; you're his rock, his soulmate, the reason he stays sane despite dealing with probably hundreds of students and the frustrating dance of academic bureaucracy. 

It's a fantasy that broke the second Winchester glanced up and said with a hint of surprise, "Miss L/N! Come in, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

Relieved that he can pick you out among the sea of students from his classroom, you move forward until you reach the chair. You set your bag down on the floor and settle into the worn leather of the seat as Winchester eyes you expectantly.

"What can I do for you this afternoon?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with something."

"Oh, what might that be?" he furrowed his brow.

"Um..." you started. "I'm sure you noticed that I didn't do too hot on the last exam."

"Ah, I did," he said simply.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, actually." Winchester opened up one of his desk drawers and sorted through some files before pulling out a packet you recognized as the exam you'd taken the week before. "You seem so engaged in class discussion and you've been doing well on everything else. This...this felt rushed. What happened?"

The soft expression of concern on his face only increased your shame. In all honesty, you'd wasted half the exam time away staring at him. He'd worn a red sweater over a cream colored button up that day. Then he'd rolled up the sleeves before handing out the exam papers. It felt stupid to admit that you'd been distracted by his goddamn forearms.

But you had been. You couldn't resist watching him as he'd circled the room, keeping an eye out for cheating. With his arms folded behind his back, you got the best look at the back of him. His long legs clad in khaki. Strong, tanned forearms corded with prominent veins. Shoulder blades pushed back confidently as he walked. Everything about his solid stature had your mind far, far away.

You'd been good at making sure your daydreams wouldn't get the better of you. But this time, before you knew it, Winchester was glancing down at his watch and announcing that you had fifteen minutes left for exam time. You had no choice but to rush through the rest of it, writing down answers that hardly even made sense just to fill in blanks.

Now those answers laid before you, condemning you to a low D– that dragged down your entire grade.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Professor. I thought I studied enough but I guess not."

Though you'd attempted to laugh off his concern, Winchester obviously wasn't budging. "But these are rookie mistakes. Number fifteen for example. Where do the gods live?"

"Easy. Asgard."

"Right, but here you marked down the answer for Valhalla," he slid the paper around so you could look at the question.

Sure enough, there it was, your frantic pencil marks filling in the bubble for the incorrect answer. Damn.

"And that's just on the multiple choice questions," Winchester continued, flipping through the pages. "You barely followed any of the directions for the long answer questions. Your response to the short essay portion was a paragraph too short. And it was too unfocused."

Unfocused is right, Professor Winchester.

"I hate to say it...but I was a little disappointed."

The sting of tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. So you cleared your throat and blinked them back quickly. Voice trembling, you answered quickly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't on my game and I thought I'd pay you a visit so I could plead my case. I'm willing to do any kind of extra credit assignment. I don't care how much work it is. I'll do anything to fix my grade because I really want to do well in your class and–"

Winchester raised a hand, urging you to stop. Then he spoke, "Listen, I can see how badly you want this. So I'm going to make sure you get it. Just...let me think."

With that, Winchester rose from his seat and began to gather the papers that littered the surface of his desk. He stacked them neatly before opening a different drawer and laying them inside. After he closed the drawer, he made his way around the desk. You tried not to look at him as he made his way around the room, especially not when you felt his hand brush against the back of your chair. But you couldn't not notice when he drew the shade on his door's window and closed the blinds to his window, leaving the room dim save for the yellow light of his desk lamp.

Once he'd made his round, he returned to his chair and rolled back, leaving a massive gap between himself and the edge of his desk.

Then he did something else you didn't expect.

He patted the wood and said, "Come. Sit on my desk. Let me look at you."

You almost wavered on the direction when he cleared his throat expectantly. That brought you to your feet and compelled you to settle waveringly before him.

With his lips in a tight line, Winchester studied you. He tilted his head every few seconds, letting his eye flicker from your uncertain expression to your body. You sat up a little straighter in an attempt to satisfy his observation of you.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it made you nervous; made you vulnerable in a way you weren't used to.

"I may have one extra credit opportunity that I can offer. Special. Just for you."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can start by spreading your legs."

Your eyes went wide. "Professor Winchester, you're not–"

He cut you off quickly, "First, after office hours, you may call me Sam. Second, I'm not going to touch you. I'm simply asking you to give me a– a presentation," he decided.

"What kind of presentation?" you asked.

Your feigned innocence made the man chuckle softly. "The kind of presentation I'm sure you give in your dormitory bedroom every night."

There wasn't an ounce of jesting on his face, but still you played dumb. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Sam." His name felt foreign yet familiar on your tongue. Probably because you'd whispered it many times before in the exact scenario he'd described.

"I'd hoped you'd tell me the truth about why you were so distracted during your exam. But since you haven't been forthcoming, I guess I have to spell it out for you, haven't I?"

You swallowed hard and blinked nervously.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" he chuckles again. "It's hard not to notice when one of your students, especially one so beautiful, is practically drooling all over their table."

The scraps of flattery were evidently working on you as Sam smiled when you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as your skin got all warm and tingly. So he kept going.

"Besides, you're too intelligent to do this terribly on something you should've aced. Maybe you wanted to fail it. You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to waste your time, I was just–"

"You weren't wasting my time. Wasting your time is continuing this pointless back and forth when you could instead be proving yourself."

"Proving myself?"

"Yes. Spread those legs...and earn your grade," he ordered.

Breathing in and out slowly, you did what you were asked. The knots in your stomach told you this was wrong. But the smile of approval that slowly grew on Sam's lips said that this was exactly what you both needed. 

You'd never been more embarrassed to be wearing a skirt. One the fabric pooled around your hips, it only framed the damp patch on your underwear. Perhaps part of you had wanted something like this to happen. Because your pussy was already pulsing after simply being observed behind the cotton curtain that soaked up her anticipation.

"Very good," Sam breathed out.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

"Just...play with her. Show me what you like to do to make her happy."

You nodded, then pursed your lips as you thought. If you were going to present to him...you might as well go all out. So you shifted each of your thighs around, pulling down your underwear until your bare ass was planted on the desk and the garment was caught on one of your ankles. You lifted your left and held it out gently, the panty hanging in the air a little below Sam's face.

"Take them," you said. "Visual aid."

He smirked lazily at the offering before pulling them over your shoe, being careful not to actually touch you. Sam balled them up before bringing them to his nose and slowly breathing in the scent. You could tell he enjoyed it thoroughly as he let out a deep sigh from within his chest.

"With how wet these are...it's good to know you were prepared even for a surprise presentation. I knew there was a reason you're my favorite."

His words went straight to your cunt as a few drops of slick leaked from your hole and landed on the dark wood beneath you.

"Go on," Sam urged, gaze flickering to the drops of you on his desk. "She's waiting. And so am I."

You began to treat yourself with the same level of care as you did when you were alone. One of your hands reached up your shirt and you cupped one of your tits. You kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before focusing on the nipple, pinching it until it pebbled and poked through your shirt. The action made your breathing turn ragged. 

You finally let your other hand travel south, bringing warmth to the soft skin of your thighs. Wanting better access to yourself, you pulled your leg up, resting a foot on the desk itself. Then you reclined back and let your fingers roam where they wanted.

Using two fingers, you spread your outer lips, only exposing yourself to Sam’s scrutiny even further. The cool air hitting your most vulnerable part, you shivered as goosebumps erupted across your skin. You looked up at him, gauging his approval of your performance.

“You’re doing so well already, keep going,” he encouraged, hardly concealing the arousal that clung thickly to his tone.

You took the praise with pride. It emboldened you enough to slip your two fingers between your folds to gather up some of the slick. You couldn’t help but feel mortified as you involuntarily gasped when your digits brushed slightly against your clit.

Sam let a quick puff of air out his nose. “Sensitive?”

“Mhmmm,” you whined.

“Bet you can’t even touch that pretty clit directly without crying, huh?”

You nodded.

“Then be gentle. I want you to last for me.”

You took that to mean that he didn’t want you touching yourself there yet. So instead you switched to focusing on your entrance. It wasn’t often that you went straight for penetration. Rarely did it bring the kind of relief you craved.

But you had the feeling that Sam would want to see it; to see your fingers filling yourself up and stretching you out.

With your fingers practically pruning already, you pushed one in ever so slowly. It took a second to adjust to the slight pressure, but still you began to carefully pump. The slick squelch only intensified when you slipped another one in and sped up your movements.

Though the pressure increased and built up tension in your belly, you could already tell it wasn’t going to go anywhere. You bucked your hips pathetically against your own hand, trying to get deep enough to hit your g-spot. But no matter how far you tried to probe, it was useless. Your fingers simply weren’t long enough.

Your eyes went wind, catching sight of something that most likely could reach that spot inside you. While you’d been fucking yourself, your professor had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped himself out. There he sat, your panties in his hand and wrapped around the thick length of his cock. The angry red tip poked up and out of the fabric with each slow thrust. And you could already tell based on how long his strokes were that you’d most likely be able to feel him poking against your belly from inside you. The idea made you moan and throw your head back.

Sam swiftly reprimanded you, “Ah, remember your eye contact. I want you to look at me.”

Shame spread over your body. What the fuck was going on? Were you really fingering yourself on his desk right next to papers that he was surely going to return to students? Was Sam really fisting his own cock with your underwear? And were you actually enjoying this?

“Sweetheart,” Sam’s self control faltered slightly with the name. But it grabbed your attention nonetheless. “I need you to look at me. Let me look into your eyes when you make yourself come on my desk, alright?”

This was about more than fixing your grade. This was about pleasing him…by pleasing yourself. And as you returned his look, you were all in.

Under his watchful, half lidded, hazel eye you allowed yourself to focus on your aching clit which laid in wait like a pearl beneath the hood of skin covering it. Carefully, you pulled that hood back before lightly spreading some of your slick with a finger. You let the skin settle back in place over the sensitive nub before going straight to work.

You began to rub slow circles on the hood and finally properly moaned. It took only a few seconds for the muscle memory of your nightly ritual to kick in as the pleasure started to mount. Finally, all of that pressure in your core had some actual weight to it; a weight that was already beginning to roll in shallow waves over your whole being.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let me hear you loud and clear. Don't wanna miss a single sound from you," Sam groaned and you caught how the grip he had on himself tightened, how his pace quickened.

While rolling your hips against your hand, you pulled up a side of your shirt, exposing even more of yourself to him. Now he could easily see one of your tits rise and fall with your staggered breaths. He could see how the ball of fat dimpled under your fingertips as you squeezed and pulled at your hardened nipple.

Both sources of simulation had you whimpering breathlessly, "Sam, I-I'm so close– Let me come, please?"

Sam glared and asked through gritted teeth, "That's not my name. What do you call me in class?"

"Professor?"

Sam nodded darkly.

You took the cue quickly and begged helplessly, "Please, professor, please let me come–" you were cut off by the sound of your pleasure starting to push you over the edge. 

Sam left you teetering, staring right over the border of this boundary. That boundary being an ethical nightmare that you had no clue how you'd navigate. But you wanted to be good for him; you craved his approval.

And thankfully, Sam gave it as he groaned, "There you go, good girl. You can come, you've got permission."

With that, you arched off the desk and burst with glorious clarity. A thin stream of your arousal drooled from your entrance as you rubbed yourself through the enormous implosions and the small aftershocks that followed. Your head was heavy with the fog of pleasure and you wanted to hang it back, give it a break.

But still, you were determined to keep your eyes on him, even as you pulled your fingers away from your trembling cunt and stuck them in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the wrinkled digits, soaking up every bit of yourself that you could.

Any sort of professionalism Sam had been trying to maintain up until that point shattered completely when he rolled his chair forwards. Closer to you now, you looked down into his soft eyes and watched how his normally objective stare went personal; emotional. He looked at you with the kind of admiration that made your heart flutter with pride.

He took his hand, placed it on your knee, and spread your legs further. His touch was so light, so soft that you could help feeling electricity dance along your spine.

"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me?" you whispered, only a hint of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

Choosing his words as carefully as ever, he explained, "That was before I decided that you needed some of my...guidance."

[sebsxphia]

ceo jake ‘hangman’ seresin. | headcanons.

￫ c/w: sex, alcohol, smoking and daddy kink.

CEO Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin would spoil you rotten. They say you can’t buy love or happiness with money, but Jake disproves that ridiculous statement frequently.

You don’t need Jake’s money to prove that he loves you, but you have to admit, it is exhilarating when he takes you on his private jet to Paris for the weekend and dines with you onlooking the sparkling Eiffel tower along the river Seine.

You might as well make use of the money Jake spent on you this weekend and show him your reciprocated love, wrapped up in the crisp cotton sheets of his double bed flying home on his private jet.

Your wardrobe is bursting at the hinges with expensive items of clothing. One of a kind pieces Jake got made specially for you and black silk dresses from YSL for galas you routinely attend to.

There are jewelry pieces that only Jake’s love could buy. Jewelry that Jake insists to put on you each morning, ghosting his fingertips over the back of your neck and placing a featherlight kiss there and then to your wrist when he fastens your watch.

However, your perfume selection is limited. There are three dizzying scents and only three that Jake associates you with. When you wear any one of these three, Jake will groan into the crook of your neck and nip at your flesh with his picture perfect teeth.

“There’s my baby. You smell like heaven, my love.”

Jake very much indulges in his own happiness with his own money. His wardrobe that sits next to yours is full of clean cut, expensive suits that are taylor made to fit around his broad shoulders perfectly. There is never a seam out of place.

There are rows of shirts, all varying in style and for all occasions. When Jake buys a new shirt, he likes to imagine what you’d look like wearing it in the morning when you fix him a coffee from your Italian Moka pot.

Jake prides himself most on his cufflinks and watches, and he has a fine selection. After Jake has fastened your jewelry to you, you return the favor. But when you place the final piece, Jake’s class ring that he always wears, you bring his fingers up to your soft lips and place a tender kiss there.

Similar to yourself, Jake’s aftershave selection is whittled down to two. One for the day and one for the night. You’ll find yourself inhaling either one of these familiar scents along his neck when you sit in his lap, lightly tracing your tongue over Jake’s jaw and tasting the expensive fragrance for yourself.

“Oh, Jake. You taste so good, Daddy.”

His shirts always smell like either one of these two particular aftershaves and when Jake isn’t here, you wrap yourself up in his shirts for as long as your day will allow it. You run your hands over the soft material and dip them in between your thighs, daydreaming of Jake being there with you.

Jake got his nickname within the business tycoons as ‘Hangman’, because if you didn’t play by his rules, he would leave you hanging out to dry for the dogs. Jake was very self aware of the presence and almost deadly influence he had.

On some occasions you’d caught Jake at the end of a cutthroat meeting as he brought the lambs to the slaughter. There wasn’t a strand of his hair out of place and his tie was still knotted as perfectly as it was when you tied it this morning.

Jake wore his ever charming yet smug grin on his face, baring his teeth to the world as the vicious business man that he was. There was a freshly lit cigar hanging off his lips and he was talking numbers to his subordinate when he spotted you waiting by the glass door.

He called you over and you offered your praises due to the success of the deal that was just made. The smoke of his cigar clouded your senses and you gave Jake what you thought was, innocent praise.

“They don’t know what hit them, Hangman.”

Jake was quick to dismiss his subordinate and shut down the blinds looking into his office in a flurry. You called him ‘Jake’ everyday, but when you called out his egotistical personality of ‘Hangman’, he’d have you bent over the thick oak of his desk and his fingers stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet as he pounded into you from behind.

There wasn’t a surface in Jake’s office that you hadn’t fucked on. Your favorite was when you visited him at night with your chosen take out in hand. You’d eat it together in the softly lit room and listen to each other as you disclosed the events of your days.

Jake would pop open a cork of wine that was presumably older than both of you combined. He’d turn off the lights completely and you’d stand with your back pressed tightly against his chest.

His large arms would be wrapped securely around you and you’d both be admiring the dazzling lights of the New York skyline, whilst taking sips of your wine.

You’d never finish the glass. It would always end with your back splayed out on the surface of Jake’s desk and your thighs doubled over. Your neck would hang off the edge and as Jake made you see stars for the third time that night in the dark of his office, you would gaze out upside down at his glass windows and watch the sparkling stars of New York appear in the sky.

￫ a/n: this was so much fun to create and design. i hope you enjoyed it! <3 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown