#colin shea x female reader

[syntheticavenger]

enamel - three

enam·​el • to beautify with a colorful surface

ransom drysdale x female reader

enamel masterlist

words: 2K

warnings: 18+ ONLY. DNI if you are a minor. Language, more world building, toxic relationship, mentions of past sex, jealousy.

summary | if your marriage to ransom drysdale was a lit match, he’s the kerosene.

The wine kicks in thirty minutes later than expected, another voicemail on your phone that you let play out, Ransom’s threats no longer thinly veiled. It’s an all out command for you to return home, to stop being childish and come to your senses.

”Selfish son of a bitch,” you mutter, taking another sip of your Cabernet. 

Being alone is a strange feeling, especially since you hadn’t planned this out in advance. It was a simple whim, a response to once again feeling like you weren’t enough. The flirting had gone on longer than you had expected, the burning jealousy propelling you to want to make a scene, to embarrass the both of you. Your self-control will never let you falter in such a way, to show that side of yourself that you only show to him when you’re alone.

Somehow, deep down, you know Ransom was betting on you to break and that unnerves you the most. He’s the balance when you’re finding yourself going too far, relegating you both to the car to argue in private, to have make up sex in private, to apologize in your own way in private.

Too close for comfort this time.

Still, you let your mind wander to the man who caught your attention. A slight boyish smile, a sense of unbridled freedom that you haven’t let yourself ever have.

”Colin,” you say out loud, testing his name on your tongue.

You’ve got to hand it to him. The small crowd of people waiting to check in and he gave you his undivided attention, even bringing up your dinner himself, something you didn’t overlook. It’s almost too easy to let your mind linger to what ifs: what if you flirted back to have a story to hang over Ransom’s head. Maybe you’d get caught up in the ego build up, bask in feeling like you’ve gotten someone’s gaze that isn’t Ransom’s.

It’s always only temporary. Ransom clouds your thoughts again, wondering if he’s pacing in the living room or upstairs, his number flashing across the screen once more.

For once, you got smart and turned off your location. Which is probably why he’s going off the rails - access to you was a given and taken for granted.

When his number lights up once more, you scoff.

Access to you is a privilege. 

He’ll learn that lesson eventually.

”Bastard,” you hiss, turning your phone over and looking out at the view of the city.

-

After his fifth message, the tension in his shoulders makes him shudder, looking at his phone and knowing deep down that you won’t respond.

At least not right now.

The brunette had been fun to lead on but there was zero chance he’d ever entertain keeping her company outside of what little attention he’d paid her. It was enough for you to get riled up, Ransom’s eyes following your own the entire time you stared, sometimes forgetting to finish your own thought when you were in the middle of a conversation.

The sheets still smell like you - faint perfume that cost a small fortune that he got you for your birthday that you’ve been obsessed with. He inhales for a moment, remembering the night prior when you were under him, fingers scoring his back and eventually leaving puncture marks when he hit a spot that made you nearly feral. There’s a sense of entitlement he enjoys, knowing that you’re aware of how he can find every single spot in and on your body to bring you to your knees.

He’d like to see that juiced personal trainer of yours to even try.

Flopping onto his back, Ransom stares at the ceiling, phone still in hand as he secretly wishes that you’d return his phone call. As it stands, he’s dodging the brunette, who can’t take a hint that he’s not interested. These little games he likes to play usually don’t last long and they can take a hint - but not her. Blocking her number, he swipes through some pictures of you and him during your winter holiday in Switzerland the year prior, your happy smile lighting up the room under the backdrop of pristine, fresh white snow.

Turning off your location is new, the picture app swiped away as he focuses on looking at your pretty face on his screen.

For a moment, he wonders if he’s gone a little too far, only to remember Jake Jensen standing in his kitchen.

”Serves you right,” he grumbles, thinking back to how Walt had gleefully told him you left.

You should be home now, next to him, poking him in the chest to make sure you relay your opinions on how he treats you. It’s a preamble to how you want him to treat you in other ways, demanding tone turning into breathy sobs when he takes you into his arms.

Your jealousy is like a powder keg, something Linda had warned him from the get go when he’d proposed. She’d cautioned him on teasing you, giving him a road map of a woman’s emotions among a reformed playboy like him.

For a while, he had listened. But under the surface, he liked to coax out your wild side, the sharp tongued insults you’d hurl at the women who dared to get close. Unafraid of your own emotions, willing to show a passionate side of yourself that you had reserved for just him.

And he had wanted more of it.

Publically was even better because he reaped the rewards at home.

For the first time, he’s rendered speechless at your distance, almost wondering if he should make a few phone calls to track you down. Oddly enough, he’s not worried - yet. With a quick view of the credit card, he smirks at the charge.

”Stubborn,” he says to the ceiling, closing his eyes. “At least you have good taste.”

-

Normally Colin Shea isn’t interested in the clientele who patronize this boutique hotel, the exorbitant rates enough to keep normal travelers away. There’s something about you, the way you’d asked for a room, credit card in hand before he even had to ask, determined to take no for an answer as Colin had furrowed his brow to wonder if there were any rooms left. The big rock on your finger meant you were probably a trophy wife, something that filled him with disgust for even thinking so until you’d rambled off your last name.

Drysdale.

He’d known that name well. Joni Thrombey had done a few seminars at the hotel across the street, opting to stay here so that people wouldn’t follow her. If you asked him, he wasn’t even sure if she was able to garner any sort of recognition by her name only. 

Knowing his luck, a simple phone call to the usual suspects that ask about the patrons who are lucky enough to get a reservation, a tip that a disgruntled wife of a rich man would be enough for someone to talk about it but Colin has never been the sort to even attempt to get involved in someone else’s business, let alone report out to the masses.

You were running from something, looking over your shoulder more than once while he processed your reservation, no bags for the bellhop to take up as you quickly muttered that you just needed to get away for a night, only to call down a few minutes later to order dinner.

He didn’t have to deliver it himself. There was that pesky sense of curiosity and the smooth talking to the server who was trying to get off a little early that he could do it himself. What Colin didn’t expect was you to answer the door, barefoot and nearly teary eyed, pulling the strap of your dress up over your shoulder. 

For a short moment, he dreamed of punching Ransom Drysdale right in his smug face for making you upset.

He had to calm himself down to thinking such a thought, stepping inside of the hotel room to place your food down, even uncorking the wine and pouring you a glass to start. 

The clock shows an ungodly time when he finally glances up from his computer, rubbing his eyes for a moment before deciding to take a break. The amount of call outs for a Celtic’s game had him pulling a double - not that he minds it, he needs to make rent this month, after all. 

There’s a little space that he can retreat to, grabbing his backpack before heading toward the elevator.

-

By the time he takes the steps up to the top of the hotel, he’s aware that he’s not alone, the door slightly ajar. His suspicion is at high alert, moving through the next set of steps to the chairs that some of the servers have left out when they need a smoke break and a view.

The last person he expects to see is you, drinking straight from the bottle of wine, your dress hiked up to your thighs while you look out at the glittering lights from the city.

“I was wondering who found my hiding spot,” Colin says, breaking the silence when you look over your shoulder at the sound of his voice.

”I used to climb rooftops when I was a teenager. Felt a little freeing,” you say with a shrug. “And if this is your hiding spot, it’s not exactly a secret. I scared two people who tried to come up here.”

Colin takes a seat next to you, rummaging through his backpack while your stare follows him. He pulls out a sandwich from the deli down the street, opening it quickly before slowing down his movements.

”You want some?” He offers, seeing you shake your head.

”Thanks but I’m good. Probably should stop drinking but,” you pause, taking another long sip. “This wine was fucking expensive. It would be a waste if I stopped.”

He wants to ask why you’re up here, not to scare you into going back down but because you don’t seem like the sort to do something spontaneous like finding yourself at the top of a hotel, drinking from a wine bottle without a care in the world.

Or maybe it’s the wine talking, he isn’t sure.

He decides to be brave and ask anyway.

”What brings you up here?”

You look up at the blanket of stars in the sky and back to him.

”I needed to breathe.”

He nods, knowing that feeling all too well.

With another sip, you cradle the bottle to your chest.

”What about you?” You counter.

”Same. World gets a little suffocating sometimes.”

”Tell me about it,” you agree, looking down at your phone, eyes narrowing at the time. “Shit, I need to sleep. Check out is at what, ten?”

”Eleven. Unless you want a later check out. Not that I would say anything.”

You waver for a moment, unlocking your phone to take a picture of the skyline and then back at him, Colin giving you a thumbs up in the picture with a smile. You laugh at the action, carefully hoisting yourself up as you teeter for a second, taking a deep breath.

”You have a goodnight, Colin, wearer of many hats.”

He watches you carefully as you go down the steps, bottle in hand. You move with such grace that he’s not even sure if you’re as drunk as you seem, possibly an act for sympathy - or you’re just conditioned to draw back any authenticity before you reach the door.

“Leave the door open!” Colin calls out, seeing the door open slightly.

You’re gone in an instant, leaving him to wonder what you’re all about as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

-

Ransom sleeps past his alarm, the sun hitting him squarely in the eyes when he finally wakes, lulled into a false sense of security by a dream he had of you.

It comes crashing down when he realizes you still aren’t home, looking at his phone to find a picture you sent. It isn’t of you but a random man, giving a thumbs up to the camera under cover of darkness. He studies the picture for a long while, a cold smile coming over his features.

It’s not the personal trainer this time but a hotel employee, judging by the name tag. Ransom expands the picture to look closer.

”Colin,” he says to himself, saving the picture to his phone. “What were you doing with my wife, hmm?”

Pulling himself out of bed, he heads to the shower, thinking just how he’ll get all the answers to his questions.

He’ll go right to the source.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

LOVE TASTES LIKE STRAWBERRIES.

PAIRING — baker!colin shea x patisserie f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; modern au; alternate universe—bakery; rivals in love; fluff; coarse language.

SUMMARY — You have a standing rivalry with the bakery across town, but you know what they say: there’s a thin line between love and hate. And despite how much you act like it, you don’t actually hate Colin Shea.

WORD COUNT — 3.3k

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

“Hey, Princess!” 

You bite back a groan, trying to ignore it, hoping against hope that you were just hearing things. 

But then you hear it again. “Over here, your highness!” 

Finally, you turn towards the sound of the voice and are met with a pair of familiar blue eyes and that infuriating grin. Colin Shea jabs a thumb in the direction of your stall, the one right next to his, as it has been every year. 

Your biggest mistake was deciding to check out the competition after hearing there was a new contender in town. You saw the name of a bakery you didn’t recognize on the list of participants in that year’s spring fling festival. 

The event? A baking contest. The prize? $5,000 in cash and publicity for your store. Despite not winning that first year, the contest shone a spotlight on your shop, Queen of Tarts, and you saw a decent boost in sales in the month following the festival. Needless to say, you resolved to compete every year since. 

Rockin’ Rolls, the new bakery that opened up across town, was exactly like you expected: lots of natural light, bare white walls, gallon-sized jars full of flour and sugar lined up on shelves painted a light minty green, and wooden display cases that looked like they were handcrafted.

It was a quaint little place, and despite the sweet smell of fresh bread wafting out from the kitchen, their displays showcased a wide selection of breads, pastries, cakes, and pies. Evidently, they sold much more than just rolls. 

The owner of said establishment, however, was not at all what you expected… and you ended up, well, checking out the competition in a whole different way. 

Frustratingly handsome, easygoing boyish charm, and a sense of humour you’d find endearing if it didn’t belong to your sworn enemy, Colin was a pain in your ass but looked damn good while he was at it. Not only could he be charming, he was a master of bread. The first day you visited his bakery, you bought a loaf of brioche that was so rich, so buttery, yet so light and airy that it almost had you in tears. 

Your pride, though, kept you from going back for more. 

Because he was also absolutely insufferable. At first, you enjoyed the dose of healthy competition, the two of you always good-natured and lighthearted about it. The rivalry soon became an all-out feud, however, as it turned out both of you were frighteningly competitive… and very sore losers. 

Soon, Colin’s laidback attitude became a source of unending irritation, while he seemed to find your background—namely your rich parents—personally offensive. You’ve engaged in a yearly bake-off ever since, both your storefront windows featuring an actual tally squeaked on with marker. The winner threw obnoxiously smug celebration parties, tagging the loser in photos and videos posted on social media. 

“Aren’t you a little old for the name-calling, Shea?” You snark, taking in his slightly tousled hair and casual attire, a dark t-shirt smeared with flour and dark jeans torn at the knees. 

“Calm down. You know it suits you,” Colin replies mockingly. “Naive and privileged heiress, out here slumming it with us peasants.” 

“Don’t you know—” you say through gritted teeth as you set up your station. The proximity of your tents has both of your staff groaning in frustration, but neither of you are phased. “—that you shouldn’t ever tell a woman to ’calm down’ unless you want to get punched in the dick?”

“Aw, sweetheart, if you wanted to touch my dick that badly, why didn’t you just say so?” He smirks as he kneads his dough, the muscles in his arms bulging nicely with the effort. It takes every last ounce of willpower not to stare at them. 

“I’d rather be set on fire,” you mutter to yourself, lying through your teeth, rolling out your own pastry dough for your tart crusts. 

“And did I ever tell you how cute that name is? Queen of Tarts, how adorable,” he pouts, pointing a flour-covered finger to the sign hanging from your tent. His voice holds a slightly mocking tone, but you’re determined to let it slide off your back. 

“Yeah, so you should be calling me ’your majesty’ instead,” you sneer. 

“You haven’t earned that title yet, Princess. And your little strawberry tarts won’t be enough to win you that prize.” 

“My tarts were famous long before you showed up, I’ll have you know.” 

“For what, being a giant disappointment? That pastry is way too thin.” 

“I know what I’m doing. I was making these with my eyes closed while you were still learning how to proof bread!” 

“The weight of your custard is gonna break those things in half before anyone can even eat it. Not to mention all that fruit you’re about to pile on top.” 

“You know,” you shake your head, rolling out the chilled dough. “Someone ought to teach you a lesson.” 

“Yeah, you think you can teach a man like me?”  Colin grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “Silk sheets, candlelight… the gentle strains of Kenny G?”

“Ew, stop it.” 

“Why? Afraid you’d like it too much, rich girl?” 

“Ugh,” you groan in disgust, turning away to concentrate on your pastry. “Just you fucking wait. This is gonna be the best thing you’ve ever had, and then I’ll have you admit that you don’t know jack shit.” 

It occurs to you then that Colin has never actually had any of your pastries. All of the times you two had competed, not just in the festival, the two of you would automatically declare yourselves the winner—the rules be damned. And after the fact, while you couldn’t help but secretly partake in the loaves of freshly baked focaccia, ciabatta, and sourdough, Colin has never once touched the tarts you’ve so painstakingly made with love. 

The pastry Colin deemed too thin, you had down to a science, filled with smooth and creamy perfectly sweet custard. On top are strawberries you sliced so thin they could be arranged into the shape of a blooming flower, brushed with shiny red glaze, dusted with powdered sugar, and garnished with a few adorably tiny green leaves of apple mint. 

When you win the top prize this year, much to your satisfaction, the other staff at Rockin’ Rolls gladly grab at your famous confections, showering you with appreciative mmm’s and ahh’s. Colin, however, remains at his station, cleaning away and looking pouty as he usually did whenever you beat him at something. 

“Come now, Mr. Shea, don’t be a sore loser,” you tease, despite the fact that you were probably much worse, ignoring the way Colin noticeably bristle at the sound of your voice. You hand over a plate with a single strawberry tart placed gingerly on top of the white porcelain. “I’ll be generous and share my winning creations.” 

Generosity, sure. Deep down inside, way past the rivalry and annoyance, you held a reluctant respect for Colin. Despite his carefree attitude and sometimes crude jokes, the man is serious about yeast. He turns into a different man once he steps into the kitchen, his eyebrows knit together in concentration, all signs of the immature jokester you’ve come to know disappears. Or at least, pushed momentarily aside. 

His hands gently mold doughs into various shapes, handling them with such care that sometimes you didn’t recognize the baker in front of you. You remember that first taste of brioche, how that masterpiece had come from the heart of this giant man-child, and it was impossible not to admire Colin Shea the bread artisan. 

So, you wanted to know what he thought about what you could do. It was one thing to own a mildly successful business, but another thing entirely to share your creations with someone who knew what the whole process entailed. 

“I’m allergic, your highness,” Colin merely says, not even looking up as he wipes down his flour-dusted workstation. 

Your jaw drops. “What?” 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, don’t you also have some cleaning up to do?” Colin glances over your shoulder to bark out orders to his staff, who quickly finish the rest of your tarts before going back to their stations. They give you friendly pats on the shoulder as they pass, showering you with more compliments, just as your staff does for them, like they all do every year regardless of the outcome of the competition and despite the childish rivalry of their bosses. 

Except you can’t enjoy it this time. You take back your plate, the dessert still intact, bringing it back to your own tent where you would pick at it for the rest of the festival until it was time to go home. 

Because you know for an undisputed fact that Colin is not, in fact, allergic to strawberries. 

He’d lied to your face.

You can handle the jokes, the snide remarks, and his mocking tone… but if there was one thing you wouldn’t ever let slide, it was dishonesty.

Colin says goodnight to the last of his part-timers as they head out the door of the shop. Everyone had piled into the van and helped him reload all their supplies back into their kitchen before heading home for the day, but he stays behind long after closing time. It’s nearly midnight, but he opens the fridge and pulls out a small yellow box. 

Queen of Tarts is written in loopy pink script, a little bejeweled crown hanging off the capital T. It’s a logo Colin knows well. One of his employees had saved this for him, not knowing he had already declined your offer earlier at the festival with a bald-faced lie. 

They said it was the best strawberry tart they’d ever had, “But you knew that already, right, boss?” 

He didn’t. 

In all the years you two had competed, Colin could never bring himself to actually try one of the tarts you were so proud of. 

For the two of you, baking wasn’t just about making money. It wasn’t even always about what you made. It was about expression, about the way food, even the mere thought or smell of it, could bring out emotions and memories long buried. 

The only reason strawberries were your signature item was because your father took you strawberry picking as a child, you once shared with him. Colin found himself smiling at the mental image, of a younger you making fresh strawberry jam at the farm, sampling it with pieces of soft bread, only to be broken out of his reverie when you turned away out of embarrassment, demanding that he forget about it. 

And baking bread was a whole other beast. It required patience, love, and care. Colin insisted on kneading the dough by hand, the industrial-sized mixer at the shop often going unused. He always tells anyone who would listen that it doesn’t taste right otherwise, which is what his grandmother told him when she’d taught him everything he knows. 

Food contained histories and legacies, lessons of love carried throughout generations. To partake in a meal prepared for you by someone else, no matter how brief or how small, was incredibly intimate. 

And Colin definitely didn’t do intimate.

Every romantic encounter was fleeting and casual, the terms made abundantly clear before he ever partook. He felt no guilt when the women he slept with walked away hurt, because it wasn’t his fault they expected more when he explicitly stated over and over that he couldn’t give it to them.

And then he met you, and for the first time he was the one who wanted more. He wondered if he could ever change for you, if he could be man enough to swallow that fear of commitment and just tell you all the things he felt whenever he looked upon your face—even if he couldn’t exactly find the words big enough, right enough, to describe them.

Colin had expected a typically sugary-sweet proprietress of Queen of Tarts, naive about the ways of the real world, your path paved by privilege and by dollars you hadn’t earned but instead inherited.

But what he got was a bolt out of the blue and the knowledge he had misjudged you. There was a fire in your eyes unlike any he’d ever seen in another person, a stubbornness to prove your worth and your place in this world, to get by without the help of your immensely wealthy parents. 

Like the first blossoms of spring, colour slowly bled into his black and white world, as though his life didn’t really begin until your arrival in it. 

And he knew that the moment he gave into his desires and took a bite out of your carefully constructed custardy treats, he would know what love truly tasted like. 

He wouldn’t be able to pretend any longer.

Colin looks down at the lone strawberry tart, looking just as perfect and sweet as they always do. In the privacy of his own shop, alone in the middle of the night, remembering the way you’d looked at him when he lied about being allergic, he finds his resolve faltering. 

Because before any of his hopes could ever take flight, they were dashed just as quickly. Just four words uttered a week ago after he won another meaningless bet, after he had proceeded to rub your nose in it. 

“God, I hate you so much.” You’d muttered it under your breath as you rolled your eyes, turned away from him so you couldn’t see the surprise and hurt that was surely laced right into his features. 

A part of him shouted that the words were merely said in jest, that you only mumbled them out of irritation because—even he has to admit—he was being a colossal dick.

But another part of him realized you’ve never actually smiled in his direction. You have done it around him, at your patrons and your friends, at his employees who unlike him were always nice to you, but the second your eyes met his, the smile would drop. 

He knows the remedy. He could just stop being an ass, pour on the effortless charm that seems to work on most of the women he’s encountered. Except, he just can’t. Colin sighs.

Despite your hatred, he likes watching you get angry at him. Not that he enjoys making you mad, he simply likes it when you give just as much as you get, not letting anything deter you until you’d proved him wrong. He likes that you challenge him, that you aren’t afraid to be you around him. 

Then, a sudden frantic series of knocks on his shop door startles him into tossing the tart back into the fridge. Uttering a string of curses, he moves to finish closing up and ignore the stranger at the door, until—

“Open up, Shea! I know you’re in there.” Colin’s heart jumps to his throat at the sound of your voice. He freezes for a moment, listening to your fist continue to pound against the door. But then he manages to collect himself, slapping on that arrogant smile before opening up. 

“Well, what brings you here at this time of night?” He asks, but before he can continue with an inappropriate booty call joke, a second yellow box is shoved under his nose. 

“You are going to eat every last crumb of this tart,” you slam the box down onto the counter. “I don’t fucking care if you really are ‘allergic’ all of a sudden.” 

“Uh, that’s called murder, your highness.” 

“Every. Last. Crumb.” You emphasize each word with a jab of your finger against his chest. Colin wonders why he can see hurt laced in your features, too. 

If you hate him, why does his opinion even matter to you? For the first time, Colin can’t immediately tell what a woman is thinking, and it’s driving him mad.

But if you were privy to his thoughts, you’d tell him it’s because everyone knows a good and true rivalry is born and built out of mutual respect.

People just don’t bother with someone they don’t hold in high esteem. And if you really did hate him, if he really did hate you, then what was the goddamn point?

It can’t be just for the glory of being crowned the best, or the prize money; you’ve seen him in action too many times to believe that. This shared thing isn’t just a passion for either of you, it’s a way of life. It’s everything. 

“You hate me,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, the confusion evident in his voice. People don’t bring sweet strawberry tarts to someone they hate. 

“So? And you hate me. That’s how this works,” you say, clearly taken aback. Your voice grows unsteady at the way he looks at you, taking a few nervous steps back as he stalks toward you. 

“Except it’s not,” Colin stops just inches from you, so close he can smell the combined scent of sugar and butter latched onto your clothes. “Not even close.” 

“…Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” You wrinkle your nose. Even now, in the middle of a confrontation, after hinting that he is absolutely hopeless for you, Colin can’t help but love your timing even if it’s also frustrating as hell. He grins. 

“It was hot.” 

“Then take off your hoodie and not the shirt?” 

“You want me to take my clothes off?” 

“What? No, I—” 

“You hate me, though? Tell me the truth.” 

“No way. You lied to me earlier,” you finally look up at him, glaring. “And if I’m being totally honest, it’s the lack of effort that really grinds my gears. If you’re going to lie, at least do it well.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Colin says, still smiling. He wants so badly to touch you. 

“Well, good, I don’t hate you either.” The store goes still, the two of you maintaining eye contact until the silence is almost too much to bear. “No idea where you got that from, anyway.” 

He laughs, incredulous. “Because you said it.” 

“No, I didn’t! When?” 

“Last week.” 

“Oh, you mean when you were being a dick?” 

“Not uncommon, Princess. Be more specific.” 

“In my defence, you were being an ass.” 

“Again… not uncommon.” Smirking, Colin reaches out to brush his fingers against yours. His eyes never leave yours, trying to gauge just how far he can go. You don’t move even as your fingers intertwine, even as he tugs you gently towards the kitchen, picking up the box from the counter and pulling a matching one out of his fridge. 

Realization slowly dawns and you finally smile at him. Colin thinks he’ll melt into the floor, it’s so damn brilliant.

The two of you sit in his kitchen, illuminated by nothing but the small light from the nearby stove and the moon outside the window, partaking in sweet treats that would be gone in just a matter of minutes. But even long after the plates are cleared and washed, you and Colin would remember this night. 

You would remember you spent the rest of the night learning the recipe for his famous brioche, after reluctantly admitting you still have dreams about it. You would remember the way his eyes sparkled at your admission, his hands covering yours as he helped you knead the dough. The laughter at the way you ruined the first batch by adding way too much butter, the countertop and your fingers covered in a sticky mess.

As you washed your hands in the sink, Colin asked if you would come by again because “learning how to make bread is a process, Princess”. 

Colin would remember you saying yes, trying to sound nonchalant but turning away shyly and unable to meet his eyes. He would remember it being more intimate than anything he’d ever shared with anyone, committing to memory that he had been right.

Love tasted like fresh strawberries, buttery pastry, smooth custard, and just the tiniest tingles of mint. 

But, and this was the most important part—only if they came from your hands.

fin.

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers, and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[cottagecheese1]

Unhinged worlds 1

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new begging's, but what happens when your new begging comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them.

paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea.

warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

"Mom, you know I've never met this man before, right?", you said with a slightly worried tone, your mother gives you an exasperated sigh and walked her way over to you, gripping your shoulders.

"Honey please, I just got married, I don't understand why you can't be happy for me this once.", you wrapped your arms around her neck and hugged your mother, she was right, you needed to see the best in this situation right now.

"I'm sorry mom, I am happy for you, it's just a lot to adjust to right now.", You gave your mother a slight smile and pulled away from her.

She gave you a smile back and responded, "oh I think you'll be okay; he has a son around your age, he's adopted but I think you two would like each other."

The smile on your face widened a little bit, your mouth opened once again to speak, but came to an abrupt stop as you saw an unfamiliar man stand behind your mother and give her a slight peck on the head.

Your mother giggled slightly and stepped back to stand by the man, "Honey, this is Andy, Andy this is my daughter.", your mother said as she spilled out your name back to the man beside her.

Andy unwrapped his arm around your mother's shoulder, and walked towards you, opening his arms forward to embrace you in a hug. This caught you off guard because for someone you just met, he seemed to be a little too touchy with you, but you thought nothing more of it, thinking it might just be the way your new stepfather expresses his feelings.

"It is so nice to finally meet you sweetie, I've heard so much about you." Andy said with a wide grin on his face, as he held you a little too tight for your own comfort.

As Andy was speaking to you, nodding your head once in a while at his banter. You heard a voice faintly behind Andy come closer.

"Dad, when will you let Colin come over, I'm fucking dying too actually-who is that?", you looked to see a younger guy with a buzzcut, and light blue eyes come out from behind Andy to get another good look at you.

Andy took a deep breath and gave a slight glare to the boy who shoved past him to you "Johnny, this is-", Andy was quickly stopped in the middle of his introduction when Johnny decided to introduce himself to you first.

"I'm Johnny, Johnny Storm, but you can call me whatever you like sweets", Johnny said with a smug grin as he took a step closer to you, and you instinctively took a step back from the muscular man, mumbling out an "okay.." and you adverted your gaze down to your feet.

It seemed a little rude once you actually processed what you just said, making yourself seem passive and unwelcoming, but for some reason you just felt shy around both of these new men, men that are now a part of your family, men that you are now permanently living with.

Johnny chuckled and continued to try to keep the conversation alive, even though his father stood sternly right behind him. Andy quickly shut down his next spill of flirtatious chatter when he saw how visibly uncomfortable you looked.

"Johnny, this is your new stepsister, don't be disrespectful.", Andy said with a warning, but Johnny just nodded and shrugged him off, giving you a playful wink and walking away with a slight skip, boosting himself over the curve of the driveway.

"Sorry about him, he just never runs out of energy ya know?" Andy says with a slight chuckle at the end. You smiled slightly and gave him a nod of reassurance.

"It's perfectly fine, doesn't bother me." You said quietly before adverting your gaze from him once again.

"Well, if he does, just come tell me and I'll go talk to him, I'd hate it if you felt uncomfortable in any way." Andy said with a slightly sympathetic look on his face.

Your mother took an earful of this moment, and decided to express her love for it "Oh Andy, you're too sweet, we both appreciate whatever you do for us."

Andy smiled brightly, still keeping his eyes glued to you, "Just doing what anyone would do" he responded.

💼

After a long day of moving boxes and making conversation, your social battery seemed to run out completely, wanting nothing more than to lay in bed and finally relax. Except it was only 3 in the afternoon.

With a lot of procrastination, you finally got out of bed and decided to dig through the fridge to find something to drink, making your way to the kitchen, until you heard a knock at the front door.

Thats weird? You weren't expecting anyone, maybe it's just one of those people who give out pamphlets about polar bears for no reason.

Making your way over to the door hesitantly, deciding if you really want to stand in the doorway and talk about how you can stop global warming for 30 minutes, but there also was a chance that it was actually somebody important.

Twisting the knob and opening the door to find a decently attractive man who looked to be around Johnny's age standing patiently. He twisted his head towards you and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, you're not Johnny." the man said with a slight smile on his face, and you nodded in agreement before responding.

"Um, if you're here for him, I guess you can come in." you responded as you took a step back to let him enter. He chuckled, walking past you to stand next to you as the door shut.

"Thanks sweetheart, I don't think I've met you before, I'm sure I would've remembered a cutie like you", he said playfully as your cheeks heat up slightly at the sudden comment.

"I-um, no we haven't met before, I think Johnny is in his room." You responded quickly before trying to walk away.

"Wait, hold on, I didn't get your name." the man said as he chased after you slightly, and you mumbled out your name slightly, waiting for him to reciprocate the action.

"Oh right, I'm Colin." You nodded once again.

"Nice to meet you, Colin.", deciding to try and end the conversation here so you could continue scavenging for a drink.

"Ok, ok, I can get a hint, I'll see you around sweetheart." He said as he gave you a wink before walking away.

What was weird about that is he kind of acts the same way Johnny does, but maybe that's why they're friends, of course people like other people that are similar to them, you felt stupid once you actually thought about it.

💼

Once you made your way into the kitchen, finally getting one step closer to what you wanted, except Andy was also in the kitchen leaning on the kitchen counter nursing a beer that he put down almost immediately at your presence.

"Honey, you scared me, did you need something?" He said and let out a sigh of relief that it was just you.

"I came to get a drink." You responded simply, just like the rest of you, Boring and simple.

"Of course..but could I talk to you about something honey, I just want to make sure there's no tension between us." He said softly, pushing himself off of the counter and towards you.

You gave Andy a nod of reassurance to continue, settling for a bottle of water as you sat down on the bar stool, right across where Andy was standing.

"I know your shy sweetie, but I want to let you know that you can tell me anything, your mother told me about your father, and I think it's important that you have a man in your life, someone that can take care of you honey, all of your wants and needs." Andy said softly, walking around the counter to stand behind you.

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles on your back, your mother hasn't mentioned your father in years to you. She knows it's a sensitive subject for you to talk about, you doubt that your mother wouldn't have mentioned that to Andy.

"I-um-I don't really like to talk about my dad." you said with a slight tremble in your voice as you felt your throat get tighter, and your eyes get glassy with tears.

Your father died when you were only 9 but it felt like yesterday to you. Of course, you miss him, but you would rather not talk about it then mourn him every day.

Andy saw your eyes start to water, and your muscles start to tense. He just cooed at you lovingly, his hand moved off your back and moved directly behind you to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

"Oh sweetie, I know it's hard to talk about your feelings, but I want you to trust me, so I can be a good daddy and take care of you, don't you want that?" Andy said quietly while resting his chin on your shoulder.

Lost for words was one thing, you felt dumb, talking to you like a child, but deep down you found it strangely comforting. Andy walked back in front of you and grabbed your chin, tilting your head up softly with his fingers.

"You're my special little girl, I want you to know that honey." Andy added, while stroking your face like it was the most delicate thing in the world.

Trying to avoid eye contact with him was hard because than you couldn't help but feel tears run down your cheeks, maybe you did feel like Andy actually cared about you.

Andy suddenly pulled you closer to his chest while shushing you, pecking the top of your head once in a while. Hearing a faint noise of chatter coming closer to you made your head perk up with warning, you didn't want to anybody to see you cry today, especially over something you should've got over years ago.

"Hey dad I-what happened?" Johnny said as he skipped in the kitchen nosily, Colin standing right beside him, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

Looking from Andy's chest in embarrassment, watching the three men surrounding you, well mostly two in concern. This made more anxiety pump up in your chest and suddenly you darted down the hallway to your bedroom, where you should have stayed all along.

Ignoring the faint calls for your name and shutting the door behind you. Locking it and sliding down against your wall, finally letting all the sobs you've been keeping in until now. Great, now you won't hear the end of it tomorrow. Maybe a new family wasn't such a great idea after all.

A/n: It's been a minute since I posted ya'll, but I also just had a random urge to write a series with four hot men in it. Part two will be coming soon!

[callalillywrites]

I got the chance to see The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare (and then bought a physical copy because I loved it).

When this scene came on, Marjorie's just so damn gorgeous in that green Cleopatra dress. She lit something within my muse.

I couldn't help thinking about how my Alphas would react to their readers if they came out sporting this dress.

Let's explore, shall we?

These are all set in my It Takes All Packs to Make It Work verse.

Alpha!Jake (and Beta!Steve) would absolutely be tackling Angel if she came out of their room with this as her Halloween costume. Her every wish is their command at this point. She may or may not get the chance to show it or the matching costumes (Caesar & Marc Antony) she got for her guys that night.

Alpha!Bucky would probably drop to his knees at the sight of Precious in this dress. It's not her usual style as she prefers something a bit less revealing yet feminine. Something more like this Goddess costume that she wore their first Halloween together. He'll definitely be possessive and protective all night long.

Not yet here but are coming soon...

Alpha!Frank will know his reader is up to something as she's always looking for ways to keep him on his toes (and make him fall even harder for her).

Alpha!Curtis, our smitten kitten, will absolutely adore his reader in this. It's not because she's not drop dead gorgeous in his eyes because she absolutely is. It's because he's so damn proud of her and how she's coming out of her shell after the rough times she's had with her last alpha. (She's sadly going to have it worse than Bucky's Precious.)

Alpha!Ari will be glaring at everyone who dares look at his reader. He made a promise to an old friend, and he's not about to break it by letting anything happen to her.

Alpha!Colin would be glued to his reader the whole night and trying to show her how much he can and is willing to change his playboy habits.

Alpha!Dennis Baker would just be proud to be on the arm of such a beautiful reader whose attention is on him and him alone.

Alpha!Sam Wilson would be flirting like crazy even though he's long since claimed his beautiful Omega.

And we can't forget our precious Betas...

Beta!Ransom & Beta!Nick are happy to show off their gorgeous Alpha as she's absolutely stunning in their eyes. Sure, Ransom might be harboring some (read: a lot) of jealousy as others try to claim her attention from them, but Nick's had a lot of practice with this and soothes Ransom, assuring him of their Alpha's love and devotion to them.

Not in the universe, but I've been craving an Alpha!Steve of my own.

So, for him, he would be a mixture, I think, of several alphas above. Proud to have his reader on his arm, absolutely glaring at others who dare look at his reader, and just all around flirting with her, especially after they've been together a little while and have long since established their bond.

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 4

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader, references to past Colin Shea x Female Reader & past Johnny Storm x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking & implied drug use, explicit language, bad boyfriend (Colin continues to be awful, even though we haven't actually seen him since part 2), self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. She's still having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, here it is! As I currently have it planned, this will be seven parts, so we're officially past the halfway point now. This part's a little shorter, but I'm hoping you'll think it's worth it.

Big thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down the new character here! (If you don't remember doing that Carly, it's because it was ages ago 🤣)

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screaming at me. 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The drive to the restaurant was uncomfortable. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just you. Sitting in the backseat alone, while Curtis and Jensen quietly conversed in the front, you felt ridiculous. You should learn how to drive. You were a grown woman who couldn’t even get herself anywhere—just another way you didn’t know how to be responsible for yourself.

You stared at Curtis in the front seat. It’d been a few weeks since your boundaries conversation. You hadn’t spoken to him much since. He was right. It was better. Cleaner. But you missed being able to talk to him.

Something had changed about the way he watched you though. You would swear that it was more intense now, the way his eyes followed you around the room. And it always seemed like he had something to say, he’d just never say it. He didn’t make any sense.

You took a breath. You were nervous about this lunch. You weren’t entirely sure what the purpose of it was, aside from the fact that Marnie Reynolds had wanted to meet. You hadn’t seen her in years and then she just texted you out of the blue two days ago, asking if you wanted to have lunch. You assumed she was going to pitch you something. Why else would she want to talk? You hoped it’d be something easy to agree to. It would make Wilford and Tanya feel better if someone actively wanted to work with you, at the very least. 

The restaurant wasn’t the kind of place you normally went to. It was nice, but tucked away, not designed for those who wanted to see and be seen. Marnie had chosen it. She was waiting for you at a small table in the back, even more private. She stood as you approached and enveloped you in a warm hug. She was just as glamorous as you remembered, suddenly hit by memories of sitting in her trailer while she let you try on her jewelry. She’d always been so nice to you. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you,” she said as you both sat down. 

You smiled and nodded. “It’s good to see you, too. How are you?” 

“Oh, good, good,” she said with a big smile. “Just got back from a shoot in Greece. Happy to be home.” Her eyes lost a little of their luster as she asked, “How are you, darling?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you said. You could tell she wanted you to say more, but you just nodded and shrugged.

“Well,” she looked at you carefully, “I can’t get over how grown up you are. I know it’s silly, but I think I’ll always see you as the sixteen-year-old I met at the table read ten years ago.”

 “You and all of America,” you said dryly before you could think better of it.

Instead of chastising you, she just nodded. “I’m very grateful I didn’t have to grow up so publicly and then have to make that transition to being an adult. I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

You shrugged again. You didn’t really know what to say to her.

“Which, speaking of, I owe you an apology.”

Panic rose in your chest. Oh, god. Had she sold a story about you? Said something private in an interview? Blocked you from a new role? You weren’t sure you could handle one more thing right now. “Oh?” you asked shakily.

She nodded, seriously. “I should have done a better job of keeping in touch with you after we’d finished the movie. I owed you that much. I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your brow, confused.  “That’s fine. You’ve been so busy. I didn’t really expect you to remember me. I mean, you won an Oscar. I know how much work that takes.”

“Mmm,” she said, “and you sent me flowers.”

You shrugged. You just kept shrugging. “Well, you were always kind to me, and I was so happy for you. It seemed like the least I should do.”

 “You were always so sweet. I’m so happy to see that hasn’t changed.”

At the sincerity on her face, you looked down at your menu. You didn’t know what to say to that. 

“How’s your mom?” she asked, her tone strangely cautious. “Is she still your manager?”

“Oh, no. Wilford helped me get a new one when I turned 18. He thought I needed someone more experienced.”

She let out a breath, almost like she was relieved. “I have to admit, I’m happy to hear that.” You gave her a confused look and she continued softly, “She was always so hard on you. It was part of why I always invited you to my trailer. It seemed like you could really use a break from her.” She gave you another impossibly warm smile. “Plus, you were such great company. I loved making that movie with you.”

You couldn’t hide your relief when the server chose that moment to take your orders. You didn’t know what to do with the fondness in Marnie’s eyes. 

Once you were both done ordering, you decided you were ready to talk business. “So, what’s the project?” you asked.

She looked confused. “Project?”

“Uh, yeah. Whatever you wanted to pitch me? The reason you asked me here.”

“Oh, honey, no, I’m sorry. There’s no project. I just wanted to see you.”

That didn’t make sense. That she didn’t want to work with you again made sense. No one did, so of course she didn’t either. But then why else were you here? “I don’t understand,” you said quietly.

She let out a sad little sigh. “I’ve seen some of what’s been going on with you, online, and it just seems like you need a friend. I want to be that for you. I think about you more than you know.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

She grabbed your hand over the table. “There’s so much going on for you right now. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and then to have to deal with it in public too.”

You didn’t say anything, just looked at your joined hands on the table. Then, finally, still looking down, “Uh, yeah. I’m having a pretty hard time.”

She squeezed your hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever want to talk about it.” 

You finally looked up and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. You weren’t sure you could.

She looked at you carefully. “Have you thought about taking a break at all?”

You were reminded of Curtis, sitting on your couch, looking at you so earnestly, talking about taking a year off. You shook the image out of your head. “No,” you said. “It isn’t a good time. My reputation isn’t great right now, so I need to get back out there and show people that I can do the work. I need to fix it.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “that sounds like agent speak.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “he’s right.”

“Remember, though,” she said, slowly, “that you’re a person, too. Not just a career.”

You just looked at her, blankly. Your career had been the most important thing about you since you were nine years old. You didn’t know how to separate the two. Luckily, that was when the server returned with your food, and Marnie graciously took it as a sign to take over the conversation for the rest of your meal. She talked about the movie she’d just finished, how her kids were doing, and the large garden she was planting at home. It was nice. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a meal out with a friend like this.

Still, you left the restaurant feeling raw and restless. You weren’t sure what to do with that conversation, the hard parts of it. The way she looked at you like she actually saw you. There was an itch in you now that just made you want to run.

Instead, as soon as you got home, you poured yourself a glass of sangria from the pitcher your housekeeper kept in your fridge and took the latest script Wilford had sent you onto your deck. You could feel Curtis watching you as you moved through the glass doors. That was his job, you told yourself. It was just his job.

The script fucking sucked. It was awful. The opposite of what you wanted to do. But you knew what Wilford would say. Beggars can’t be choosers. This was your fault. You were the one who’d destroyed your reputation. You had to be the one to fix it. And if making shit like this would fix it, then that’s what you had to do. Too many people relied on you for you not to do whatever you could, take whatever paychecks you could get. You hated it. You hated it so much. But you would do it.

You picked up your phone. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed. It was well into the evening now. There was a text from Michelle an hour ago, letting you know she’d left. And a few minutes ago, one from Nikki, a girl you partied with sometimes, that just said ‘Fuck them both!’

What the hell did that mean? Panic began to crawl up your throat and your hands started to shake as you typed your name into Google and clicked on News. Your stomach dropped.  Johnny Storm, that snowboarder you’d barely dated over a year ago, apparently had a podcast now. And the latest episode, posted that day, featured Colin Shea as its guest. Shit. Fuck. You couldn’t even look at what they’d said. There was no point. It was all just the same old bullshit.

You felt tears start to prick at your eyes. Why couldn’t everyone just leave you the fuck alone? You weren’t even that interesting. How could they possibly have anything to talk about?

Fuck that, you thought, as you stormed back into your house. You distantly registered Curtis calling after you, but you didn’t pay any attention. You were too focused. You headed straight up to your bedroom. They wanted something to talk about? You’d fucking give it to them! You charged into your closet and grabbed the sluttiest, shiniest dress you had. Fuck yeah. You could do this. You would be exactly who they wanted you to be. If they wanted a show so fucking badly, you’d give them one.

You ran back downstairs, looking for a particular pair of earrings that a costar had given you as a wrap gift a couple of years ago – huge dangly ones that said Fuck on one ear and You on the other. There was nothing subtle about what you were going for tonight. 

You’d have to think of someone to call, too. Someone suitable for the kind of scene you wanted to make, the kind of big mistake you wanted to fall into. You were so fucking tired of holding it all together. You were done. Your mind immediately landed on Lucas Lee, your costar in that dumb action movie last year. He was awful but so hot. Nothing but trouble and always up for whatever. Perfect.

As you entered your living room, your eyes landed on one of your jewelry boxes on the coffee table. There they were! As you picked up the box, you realized Curtis was sitting by himself on the couch. You saw him take in your short, sparkly dress and grimace. You weren’t in the mood to analyze it. “I’m going out,” you announced. “Have Jensen get the car ready.” 

You were already moving through, headed back upstairs when you heard Curtis rasp, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You turned on a dime. “Excuse me?”

“I think,” he said slowly, so calmly you wanted to break something, “that going out right now, in the sort of mood you’re clearly in, would be a very bad idea.”

What the actual fuck? “Since when,” you asked, your voice quiet with seething anger, “is it your job to tell me what to do?”

He shook his head and you didn’t know how to react to how sad he looked. “I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m asking you to stay home tonight. For your own safety, which very much is my job.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded. You didn’t understand him. He told you you weren’t friends. He was the one who said he was just your bodyguard. So what the hell was he doing now? 

In the moment you stood frozen, just staring at him, he took a cautious step forward. “Did something happen?” he asked barely above a whisper.

You shook your head furiously. You felt like you could barely form words. You were so angry and lost, and scared, and sad, and confused. You were feeling more than you thought your body could contain. And you knew, you knew, the only way to get these feelings out would be to go out and get as wild as you could. And here Curtis was, not letting you. You were afraid you were going to explode. “That’s fine,” you finally got out, ignoring his question. “You don’t have to come with me. Jake neither. I’ll get a fucking Uber.” You took a step towards the opening of the room. “Go home Jake!” you shouted through the house. “I won’t need you tonight!”

Curtis sighed your name. “I’m not going to let you go out by yourself,” he said firmly.

You threw your hands in the air. “Then make up your goddamn mind!” 

Jake appeared in the doorway, looking confused and Curtis turned to him. You took the opportunity to get back to the safety of your room, leaving your security detail to figure their shit out. Once back in your room, you dug through the jewelry box until you found the earrings you were looking for. You heard your back door open and close. Good. Jake, at least, was gone. You knew Curtis would be harder, but you were fucking determined. 

Just as you were opening Uber on your phone, Curtis appeared in your doorway. “What,” you growled.

“Would you just listen to me for a minute?!” He said, not quite a yell, but not not that either, as he barged into your room. All of his practiced calm from downstairs was completely gone. “Something bad is going to happen if you go out tonight! It is, I know it is. And I know you can feel it too!”

“Why do you care?!” You shouted at him. “No one else does! Why do you care so much?!”

“You know why!” he shouted back, and took another step toward you, but then suddenly stopped. Much, much quieter, much softer, and with eyes so pleading, he said “You must know.”

You didn’t. You really don’t think you knew until that moment, when the realization slammed into you. Every look, every sigh, all of the moments of him that hadn’t made sense. You took a step back. “What?” you breathed, barely realizing that you were shaking.

He took a step forward to follow you, then stopped. He opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head at him. “No,” you said. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?!” he asked, incredulous and upset again.

“No!” you shouted, but it was so much weaker now. “I just– Why would– I’m such a fucking mess!” You were starting to cry, the adrenaline of the last half-hour finally leaking out of you, replaced by that same bone-deep exhaustion that you’d had for too long. “I barely have a high school education. I don’t know how to do anything for myself. No one wants to work with me. I am barely keeping it together and everyone knows it. I’m a trainwreck! Why would you–” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that you knew he meant. “Why would you have feelings for someone like that?”

 The sadness was back in his face. You looked away, unable to bear it. In your periphery, you saw him take a cautious step forward, then pause. When you made no move to run, he eliminated the distance between you, standing directly in front of you. He slowly, gently, carefully brought one hand up to touch your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I know all that and I still love you. Because I also know that somehow, despite everything, you are one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. You are so kind. And thoughtful. You let everyone see your soft spots, even when all they do is hurt you. You have every reason to be awful or bitter or mean or any of a thousand things. But you aren’t. It’s all of it, it’s all of those things and the ones you said too. All of it together, that’s why I love you. I love you because you’re you.”

You wanted to sob. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to you before. Not anyone in your family, or a single one of your exes. No one had ever cared enough to say any of that. Except for Curtis. He’d always cared, hadn’t he? Since that first day he’d showed up, when you’d been so scared about the possibility of a stalker, he’d taken such care with you. He was the most caring, thoughtful, beautiful person you knew. You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.  You could see his worry, but also the deep conviction with which he’d just said all that to you. You couldn’t help yourself anymore. You surged forward and you kissed him. 

He made a noise of surprise—you didn’t know how he could possibly be surprised after all that—but after just a moment he was kissing you back, bringing both hands up to cradle your head. You were getting your tears all over him, but he didn’t seem to care. He was soft and gentle and passionate. You needed more. You needed all of him.

You took a step back, breaking the kiss. You did what you could to brush the tears off your face. You grabbed the bottom of your dress and pulled it over your head, then tossed it on the floor. You stood in front of him in the lingerie you’d picked out to fuck Lucas Lee of all people and couldn’t understand how you’d ever been able to think about anyone but Curtis. But you did know how when you stopped to think about it. You’d never been able to fathom that you might deserve this man. That he might actually want you.

He stared at you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re–” you braced yourself for what might come next. So hot or fucking sexy. You’d even gotten beautiful once or twice. He only took a second before he finished his sentence “–incredible,” with such awe on his face that you actually felt your knees go weak. You had to look away. He was too much.

He took your face in his hands again and placed a soft, short kiss on your lips. “But would it be ok if we slowed down?” he asked.

You couldn’t keep the disappointment out of your voice. “Why?” 

“This is real for me,” he said. “And if we do this, I want it to be real for you too. I want you to be sure. And for now,” he stroked one thumb over your cheekbone, “right now I just want to hold you. Is that alright? If I just hold you tonight?”  

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Sex had always been the best, most important part of any of your relationships. It’d been the biggest thing that any of your previous partners had wanted from you. You weren’t sure you knew how to do it any other way. But he was holding you so gently, looking at you so softly, all you could do was nod. 

He kissed you once more. Then stepped back and started to take off his clothes. You made your way to your bed and got in, watching him as he shed his clothes. He really was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Nothing on any movie set you’d ever been on, any party you’d ever been to could compare to him. 

Once he was down to just his boxers, he crawled in next to you and pulled you close. Your lips touched his shoulder as you asked, barely audible, “You really love me?”

He kissed your forehead. “Yes,” he whispered. “I really love you.”

Taglist is open

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[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: Smooth Hips Turner

Today is @nomadicpixel birthday and a few days ago I asked if there was something she'd like me to write her for birthday. Her answer was something hockey romance, with either Cole Turner, Andy Barber or Colin Shea. I had an idea immediately... but that one didn't work out... and I'd given up all hopes of actually being able to write something when this little scene popped into my head this afternoon. Enjoy!

Title: Smooth Hips Turner

Pairing: Cole Turner x female reader

Rating: G

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 

"Is that who I think it is?"

You barely heard your friend's question, but turned in the direction she was looking and found yourself locking eyes with the "who" in question.

Cole Turner.

You knew him as your younger brother's childhood best friend.

Everyone else in the bar knew him as Cole "Smooth Hips" Turner, the new free agent goalie for the local professional hockey team.

"Oh my god, he's coming this way!" your friend exclaimed.

As he made his way towards you, stopped nearly every foot by an excited patron, you tried to recall the last time you'd seen him. The only for sure meeting you could remember was his and your brother's high school graduation nearly twenty years ago. He'd been 18 at the time and you'd been 20.

The years had been good to him, you saw. 4 years in college hockey and 16 at the professional level had done him good. Gone was the lanky teenager who had helped your brother annoy you. In his place, was a rock solid man, with a full beard, perfectly tufted hair and a charming smile.

"Well I'll be damned," his voice declared as he finally reached the table. "I heard you lived here, but I didn't think I'd run into you on my first night in town."

"And here I was trying to avoid you," you teased as you stood up to give him a hug.

It wasn't until you turned to introduce Cole to your friend that you saw that she was gaping at the pair of you in shock.

"Hi, I'm Cole," he said, holding out his hand to her.

She just blinked at him.

"Sorry," you said, slightly embarrassed by her behavior. Sitting down, you snapped your fingers in front of her face and she blinked.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "You know Smooth Hips?"

Cole flushed at the nickname, but sat down at the table and said, "I grew up next door to her. Her brother is my best friend." Then he added, conspiratorially, "I had the biggest crush on her as a teenager."

"Wait what?" you said. "You didn't."

"I swear I did," he said, leaning back in his seat. "It's the only secret I've ever kept from your brother."

"Did you have a crush on him?" your friend asked. "Is that why you keep the magazine where he's basically naked in your bedside table?"

Cole let out a shocked laugh while you wanted to climb under the table and hide.

Instead, you glared at your friend and she just shrugged as if to say "paybacks a bitch" for not telling her about Cole in the first place.

"I like you," Cole said, pointing at your friend. Then he turned back to you. "I've been here a few times to play, obviously, but I've never really gotten to explore. Wanna show an old friend around and catch up?"

"She'd love to," your friend answered for you. Then she nudged you with her elbow. "Give him your phone number."

After giving Cole your number, he said goodbye and went to join his friends at another table.

"You're welcome," your friend said.

You raised an eyebrow.

"I just got you a date with the hottest guy in hockey," she stated then grinned. "And if you're lucky, maybe he'll show you in person how he does those stretches he posts about on his socials that you like watching so much."

You shoved your friend's shoulder while she cackled.

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

Welcome to June babes 🩷💙 I had a very hectic May but I'm thankful for all the gorgeous stories I got to read in between! As always, make sure you give these incredible writers and their stories the love they deserve 🌷 this blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and may cover dark themes - you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Happy reading lovelies ☀️

Steve Harrington ✨

Sweet on you / sugar sugar / hard candy by @upsidedownwithsteve

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Playing for keeps by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader (friends to lovers)

I'll take you higher by @andvys

Vampire!Eddie Munson x female reader

Bucky Barnes ✨

Thinking this through by @lunarbuck

bfb!buck x f!reader (any race)

For the first time by @jobean12-blog

Bucky x reader

Joel Miller ✨

Interrupted by @holacia3

Joel Miller x reader

Colin Shea ✨

Soul sucker by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Colin Shea x Reader

Curtis Everett ✨

Hard pill to swallow by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Curtis x F!Reader

Andy Barber ✨

I am his and he is mine by @flordeamatista

andy barber x latina!reader 

Sam Wilson ✨

Stitched by @ichorai

sam wilson x super soldier!reader (gender neutral pronouns)

[imyourbratzdoll]

How about reader and Colin watching world cup or some sport games

And when one player who reader support lifts his shirt and reader was like 🫠🫠🫠🤤🤤🤤

I really adore a lit jealous Colin and maybe smut in the end 🤤🤤🤤

As for bear Ari, how do they through the winter together?

hey honey, I'm sorry for the poorly written smut, but I hope you enjoy it! also, I think bear Ari would get through the winter well with his little fairy.

summary - colin gets jealous by how you stare at some other guy.

warning - smut, jealousy.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Colin didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. He thought you might sit to watch some random sports channel with him, get bored, and beg him for cuddles. But no, here you are, mouth agape as you stare at the shirtless athlete. His eyes squint as he swears there’s drool dripping from the side of your mouth. Colin huffs, “What do you even see in that guy? His abs aren’t even that impressive.” 

You blink, a pout growing on your lips as you turn your head to look at him. “What do you mean?” You turn your attention back to the tv and gawk at the handsome man, licking your lips as your eyes drag down his chiselled sweaty body. “He’s like… A god… So, perfect… So beautiful, I mean… Have you ever seen someone with a body like that?” You miss the growl that escapes him, a darkened look in his eyes, not noticing him moving slowly closer to you. 

Colin couldn’t take it anymore. He could feel his heart squeezing inside his chest at the thought of you finding another man more attractive than him. The green monster enters his body, making him only see green as you continue to ogle another man. You gasp as Colin grips the back of your neck and turns your head to face him. Your widened eyes meet his lust-filled ones, and a soft whimper escapes you as he crashes his lips into yours. He pushes you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you and pressing his lips harder into you, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “You’re mine.”

You whimper as he grinds his bulge into your sopping cunt. His lips move against yours as if they're dancing, his tongue dominating yours before he disconnects, pulling away to watch the string of saliva break, and he buries his face into your neck, licking, sucking and biting on it. Colin feels his cock throb from the little whimpers that slip from your lips, and your nails dig into his back as he presses himself harder against you, grunting at the feeling of your damp knickers. “C–Colin… F–feels good, please….” You whine, hand moving up his back and to his hair, running your hands through the silky strands as your back arches. 

His lips crash into yours again, hips moving faster against you, and one hand grips your hips while the other cups your cheek. His end approaches quickly, grunts and groans filling the room as rubbing against you feels too good. Your little legs wrap around him, hips moving to chase his movements, your eyes slip close as you fall deeper into his kiss and the bliss of pleasure coming from your core. “You going to cum, baby? Gonna cum in your little knickers, hmm? Gonna cum just from me rubbing against you, such a naughty slut.” You moan, and your eyes roll back as you feel your juices gush out of you, turning red with embarrassment. Colin grunts, looking down to see the wet patch on the front of his undies, feeling his cock twitch. “Jesus, baby. Gonna make me cum like a goddamn teenager.” His pace picks up more, grinding harder into you until he feels thick spurts of cum shoot out of his tip and fill his boxers. 

You whine, shivering with pleasure as you watch him cum, biting your lip as you stare at the panting man with half-lidded eyes. Colin’s eyes open, catching yours before smirking. “Think you’ll be watching another man now?” You nod, and he looks at you, shocked.

“If it makes you react like this, I’ll continue to do it.” You giggle.

“Why, you little–” He cuts off as he tickles you, smiling down at you as you burst out into laughter, begging him to stop.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Get slut out & choked by baby daddy Ari or get handcuff by Colin. How would you describe your night with either one of them?

Why Not Both?

Summary: you’re dating Colin but Ari is your ex.

Pairings: Baby Daddy! Ari Levinson x Black! Reader x Boyfriend! Colin Shea

Warnings: minors dni, smut, mmf, rough sex, non/dub con, degradation, handcuffs, choking, cuckolding, oral sex

(A/N: idk what’s up with me and threesomes lately but I’m poly so 🤷🏾‍♀️ anyway like, follow, reblog with comment 💜 ✌🏾)

———-—————-—-—————-———

You looked up at Ari with watery eyes, still couldn’t believe that this was even happening.

It wasn’t like you and Ari were together and yet he was still a jealous bastard when he heard you’d been seeing someone. Like he was trying to have some kind of pissing contest. Going off on you about how he wasn’t going to let you have some man around his son.

You hadn’t even introduced them so he literally had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t supposed to be all this and yet here the fuck you were.

To be honest you didn’t even know that they knew each other. It wasn’t like it had been planned. You hadn’t been expecting to meet someone. You think Ari was just so used to have you in the back burner that he didn’t know what to do with himself now. Was used to not having to commit while getting unlimited pussy.

Then you told him that was enough and he scoffed and told you, “bet.”

Your son had gone to your sister’s for a sleepover with his cousins when you’d gotten in the house. Seeing him sitting there with your date in front. The two of them laughing like things were normal. Making you stop in your tracks.

“Ari, what- what’re you doing here? Thomas isn’t here.”

“I know,” he replied with a smirk. “Colin and I were just talking. You gotta problem with that?”

You raised an eyebrow because well yeah kind of, but before you could say anything Colin stood up. Putting his hands on your hips so he could kiss your cheek then grabbed your hand.

“Nah, she’s gonna be a good girl. Aren’t you?” Colin asked with a smirk.

Sure you’d heard all about his reputation. Had been told it would just be better to stay away, but so far everything had been good. The two of you hadn’t even had sex yet. He’d been pretty patient with you.

“You know all this time, I thought maybe you’d been playing hard to get but then I find out that you have a man this whole time and you didn’t tell me.” He chuckled.

You laughed glancing over at Ari and shaking your head. “No, we’re-,”

“It’s okay,” he cooed before placing a big kiss in your lips. “We already talked about what we’re going to do to you. Gotta make it up to us that you were trying to play games.”

“I wasn’t!” You protested.

He grabbed your face. Squeezing your cheeks between his hands. “You don’t have to lie to me, but you do have to make it up to me.”

That’s when he grabbed you making you turn around so your back was to his chest. Putting his nose in your ear.

“You can do that for me, can’t you?” He whispered into your ear. Grabbing your hands as Ari stood up to stand in front of you.

He grabbed your face forcing you to look up at him. “I told him how much of a fucking slut you’ve been,” Ari said, just as the snap of metal went around both wrists.

“Wait,” you said, trying to pull away, but Colin gripped your arm a little tighter. “Hey!”

“All you have to do is listen,” Ari said with a curl in his lip, his fingertips pressing harder against your cheeks then finally moving down to your neck.

That’s when Colin started copping a feel. His hands coming to grope your tits. Pinching your nipples and making you jump as he pushed his crotch against your ass. “We’re not gonna hurt you too bad,” Colin whispered in your ear. “You know I would never hurt you, Baby.”

With that he picked you up. Made you gasp and kick even though your hands were tied. Neither him or Ari giving a shit when the protests started spilling from your mouth as they carried you to your bedroom.

As your hands were tied they couldn’t just pull your shirt off, but goddamn Colin was just dying to see your tits. If ripping it off was the way to go so fucking be it. “Colin!” You yelled.

“I’ll buy you a new one, Baby,” he said with a wink.

“Please don’t rip my bra,” you begged. “It was expensive.”

“I’ll. Buy. You. A. New. One,” Colin said. Rubbing your cheek before picking you back up so he could shove you to the ground.

It wasn’t like you and Colin hadn’t messed around yet. It’s just you hadn’t had sex. Now he was taking turns with Ari shoving his dick down your throat.

Ari grabbed your hair as he fucked your face. Colin took out his phone so he could film it. The both of them clearly having fun with using your mouth. Laughing over you.

When they had their fill they picked you back up to place you on the bed. Ass in the air and nowhere to hide as they started playing with you. Fingers going into your pussy as the other one smacked your ass.

They were treating you like some kind of sex toy. Normally that would have been fine, but it had just caught you so off guard. All you could do was take it as they both had their ways with you.

Then Ari sat back. Wanting to watch as Colin filled you up. Fisting his cock. Tossing out words at you that he knew you liked to hear.

“Damn, Baby, you should have told me you liked this kind of shit before. Coulda been fucking you like this sooner,” Colin said into your ear as he made you cum for the umpteenth time.

That was the worst part. Was that you were so responsive. You couldn’t help it though. Ari knew you. Knew you liked it rough. That even when you acted like you didn’t want it, all he had to do was show you that you did. That’s just the kind of little slut you were.

He was okay with another man fucking you, as long as he got his access.

[nana1000night]

Random Thoughts

You are not girl who has the ambition to 'fix' those frat boy and womanizer.

You knew you didn't have the card to play with him, and it's only exist in the fairytale that girl use her love to melt and pull a heart of wanderer back.

Colin Shea, your childhood friend and your old crushed on, is the one.

You can't deny that you never dreamed about testing the power of love. But when you saw his all girlfriends, the way he treats his girlfriends, all the flirting, laughing and his high standards, the bubbles popped and then you swear never showed him.

"Jellybean, I'm home!" Colin's voice awake you from your slumber, the dreams about dating him always sweet.

No wonder it's only just a dream.

"Colin, need water?" You stand up and fold thr blanket, put it on the sofa, and step into the kitchen.

"Um...yeah..I need to take a shower first to get your kiss. Waiting for me, 5 minutes, pleaz...."

You smiled when he disappeared in bathroom. Prepared the pain killer and a glass of water, you checked the front door is locked. And heard Colin called you.

"Hey, Jellybean! Did you changed the shampoo? Why it smell different?"

"Because it's bathroom cleaner, drunk boy."

"Huh...oh..."

Sigh, you step in the shower. take the right one and look at him

"Let me help you, okay?"

He gives you a goofy smile to flutter your heart and lowed his body.

"Sure, sweetheart. Anything for you."

When you busy with washing his hair, his arms sneak around your waist, he hummed a song but too broken to hear clear

"Does that feeling really good?"

"It's the best things happened in my life so far, and I want to married you now."

"Aww, you're too sweet, drama king. I believe there's a lot woman want to be with you."

You try to calm your heartbeat, remind you that he's drunk and he didn't know that is he talking about.

"Speak of married, why are you still not my wife now? Or at least be my girlfriend?"

"Because we're friends, Colin. All right, I need to wash those soaps so put your heads down, giant puppy."

He snuggle his head on your chest, you pet his back while opened the shower on.

"Then I must an idiot, the pearl stands in front of me but I didn't realized until now."

"Yeah yeah, you're only see me when you drunk, buddy. The rest I'll let you do it, I'm going to change my clothes."

You pushed him off and passed by, but Colin caught your forearms and trapped you between the walls and his body.

"Colin?" He stared at you, you suddenly noticed that he's awaken.

He called your name.

"Seriously, I don't know why I didn't see that obvious things until now. But you...you are the special one to me. You're beautiful, smart, friendly, funny and loyalty."

He touched your face tenderly, and his sights moved to your parted lips.

"Remember when we joined Johnny's birthday party, we played the game that to test how you trust your friend?" You nodded

"You're the only one who could touch my upper back, near my neck and I won't shivered or try to shake off. Even my brain didn't acknowledge, my body was already trust you enough to be mine."

You could smell the whiskey and tequila he drank when he's in the bar. It's drunk you now. Your distance is more and more closer.

"I'll say that again when tomorrow come, Jellybean. but now, give me my kiss."

a/n: Don’t know why I want to write this...but I just couldn't leave the friends to lovers trope(*/ω＼*)

[callalillywrites]

Colin Shea Masterlist

Home to all stories based on Colin Shea and his Reader. All readers are female unless otherwise stated.

See Main Masterlist for other characters.

AU Series

It Takes All Packs to Make it Work - Omegaverse

OC-led AUs/Series

Cupid's Arrow - Mafia/Matchmaking AU

Miscellaneous

Fluff Bingo (hosted by Flufftober)

[starryevermore]

peachy keen: the new guy (1) ✧ colin shea, mickey henry, jake jensen, & ransom drysdale

peachy keen ✧ a colin shea, mickey henry, jake jensen, & ransom drysdale anthology | ao3

pairing: colin shea x fem!reader x mickey henry x jake jensen x ransom drydale; andy barber x fem!reader (one-sided) 

summary: you were used to life with your boys. but life decided to throw you a curveball. 

word count: 1,031

warnings?: honestly just a lot of talking about blowjobs, kind of slut shaming, ransom’s a bit of a dick, pet name (peaches), not proofread. 

note: this is more of an anthology than a series. every part exists in the same universe, but parts can be read in any particular order. there is no set update schedule for this; new parts come whenever they come.

Sometimes—most of the time—you wanted to kill your boys. You loved them half to death, but you were almost 100% certain that at least one of them had been dropped on their head when they were a kid. Or maybe last week. You were pretty sure that Mickey and Colin accidentally dropped Jake when he was attempting to crowd surf at the last party they threw. That had been a fun trip to the emergency room. Now you were dealing with two boys who insisted that every day should be a party, one boy that was recovering from a mild concussion, and another boy that was soon to move in and had already proven to be an absolute menace. 

“Mickey, you better put away that DJ equipment right now or, I swear to god, I will shove it up your fucking ass,” you snapped, watching as he began to set up for yet another party. “Jake’s still recovering from y’all’s last stunt.”

“Oh, c’mon, peaches, I’ll keep it down,” he swore. You were sure if you looked behind his back, you’d see his fingers crossed. 

“Put the equipment away now, or I won’t suck your dick until Jake’s fully recovered.”

Mickey stared at you in the same way a child who’s been caught with a hand in the cookie jar would look at the parent who caught him. “But that’s not gonna be for weeks!”

“Hm, something to consider then.”

“Wait, if we’re punishing Mick, can my dick still be sucked?” Jake asked, his head popping up as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the couch. 

A smile curled across your face as you walked over to Jake, climbing onto his lap, pushing his shoulders down so he was laying down again. His hands grasped at your lips, squeezing you tight. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his lips before trailing down to his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses behind. “Baby boy, you know you can have me any way you want me.”

“If you keep spoiling him like that, I don’t think he’s ever going to recover,” Colin laughed from his seat in the nearby recliner. 

You raised up, shooting a glare his way. “You don’t get a say in how I decide to take care of Jakey when you’re half of the reason he’s hurt.”

Jake turned his head the best he could in the position he was in to look at Colin. “Yeah, you listen to peaches! If she says my daily blowjob is necessary to my healing process, then you just have to deal with it!” he said, finishing his sentence with an ever so childish move of sticking his tongue out. 

“Maybe I’ll go give myself a concussion so I can get this preferential treatment,” Colin grumbled. 

“You’ll get no sympathy from me if you do that, pretty boy,” you said. 

“Well, what if I give Colin a concussion? Will he get sympathy blowjobs then?” Mickey asked. 

“I might just have to suck his dick to piss you off, Mick,” you said. “And you definitely wouldn’t be getting your dick suck until after both my boys heal if you did that.”

“So what you’re saying is that this is a lose-lose for me.”

“I mean, if you do nothing, you still got blowjob privileges.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that, peaches?”

“Well, if we’re doing things for the sake of fun, I know it’ll be a lot of fun of tie up a certain naughty boy up and make him see how well I treat my good boys.”

“Now that’s just not fair!” Mickey protested. 

“Listen, if you insist on throwing a party, fine. But just know that Colin’s gonna be the only one touching your dick for the next month or so.”

Mickey’s jaw dropped, his eyes bugging out. Oh, he hates that. Being left out. You were sure that, if he was able to, he’d knock out the walls in all of your bedrooms, buy a California King bed, and just have all of you sleep together comfortably instead of squishing into whoever’s bed you all ended up in any given night. To say that neither you nor Jake would give him the attention he so craved...God, it probably killed him inside. Which was exactly why you said it. His own actions had hurt your baby boy, and while he was undeniably apologetic about hurting Jake, it seemed he hadn’t learned his lesson. And you weren’t about to let that kind of behavior slide. 

For a fleeting moment, the apartment was silent. But, all things must come to an end. 

“Damn, Mickey, I see why you’ve nearly retired the party animal act now. If I had a slut like that at my beck and call, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere either.”

“Don’t call her that!” Colin snapped.

“The fuck did you just say?” Jake said, sitting up and staring at the man who’d just entered the room.

“Listen, man, don’t—” Mickey started. 

“Who the fuck do you are?” you said, staring down the bastard who’d just came in. 

Seriously, who the hell was he? You eyed him. He was tall, perhaps taller than Jake or even Colin. He had a sort of arrogant look in his eye. Hell, he had a sort of arrogant look in his entire body. He stood with his back straight, shoulders back, chin titled upwards. He looked like one of those pompous assholes who’d come into your boss’s firm straight out of Harvard or Yale. The kind of man who just expected everything to be handed him. And, well, if you had to hand anything to him, it was that he at least seemed to have a decent sense of style. Certainly better than Colin’s general lack of clothes or Jake’s cheesy graphic tees or whatever the hell Mickey could throw together. But, dammit, no matter how cozy that cable knit looked, all you wanted to do was slap that damn smirk off of his face. And—

Was that a suitcase? Why the fuck did he have a suitcase?

“Ransom Drysdale.”

“And why the hell are you here?”

“I’m your new roommate.”

[fangirlovestuff]

Colin Shea masterlist

main masterlist

all readers are female unless specified otherwise<3

* - indicates smut, 💞 - personal fave

oneshots:

Knocked it Out of the Park 💞

blurbs / headcanons:

Hot Pool Stranger 

Halloween Headcanons - various cevans characters

series:

A Very Colin Christmas - Colin Shea x reader:  completed  💞

ch.1  ch.2  ch.3  ch.4  ch.5

summary: You were planning of spending a low-key Christmas at home, when your neighbor / maybe crush asks you for an interesting favor... for you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get his judgy family off of his back. The results? misundersandings, epiphanies, and some holiday spirit.

more to come!

[theycallmebecca]

Requests Are Open & Masterlist

I’m trying to get back into the swing with writing, so I thought I’d officially open my requests and do an unofficial Memorial Day Weekend event.

So if you’d like to request a drabble/ficlet, send a prompt, character from the list below and a rating. If you need help coming up with a prompt I have a bunch of lists reblogged on @justwritinginspo with the tag of writing prompts.

Request a story via ask!

Edit: Rather than make a separate masterlist for this, I'm adding the links to the bottom of this post under the keep reading.

My favorite things to write are domestic bliss, romantic comedies, sexual tension, plot what plots, and fluff that makes your teeth hurt.

Please do not submit any prompts with dark, minor/adult romance, significant age gap, etc. themes.

Characters

Andy Barber (AU only)

Ari Levinson (AU only)

Frank Adler

Colin Shea

Steve Rogers

Jake Jensen

Nick Vaughn

Ransom Drysdale (AU only)

I do still write Chris Evans RPF as well if that’s what you’d like to request.

Ratings

G/PG - typically my fluffy family stories

PG-13 - most of my rom coms

R - suggestive sexy times that don’t get too graphic, depending on how suggestive, these will get the mature content flag

NC-17 - graphic sexy times, will get the mature content flag

So if you’d like to request a story… please do!

Finished story links below.

Whole Heart - Steve Rogers x reader, PG

After Hours - Andy Barber x female reader, R - warnings: semi graphic sex

Secrets of the Heart - Ari Levinson x female reader, PG-13 - warnings: language

[twittytelly]

Visual Fixation

Colin Shea x Female Reader

A/N: So in typical me fashion, the first time I write for Colin for around a year, and it isn’t for AUG! 🤣 (Don’t worry, there will be an epilogue one day - I want to finish my half-written fics and get on top of my entries for writing challenges first.) But, it was so much fun to write for Colin again. And look - I made a mood board on Canva! I feel like a proper fanfiction writer now! 😄😂

Summary: Coffee shop AU. Colin doesn’t usually frequent this coffee shop, but he can’t help but notice that you have an attribute that he can’t get enough of.

Warnings: One bad language word, one sexual reference and a bit of a glasses kink (if that’s a thing) if you squint.

Word count: 1472

It is a truth universally known that 90s teen movies are wrong when it comes to girls in glasses. No, we all know that no one looks like a completely different person sans spectacles. It's the implication that people who wear glasses cannot be hot.

Colin wouldn't describe himself as a fussy man, especially when it came down to the fairer sex. His friends would jokingly say that his type was anything with a pulse, and while he would argue that it was a bit of an exaggeration, it was no lie that he was a big fan of the female form no matter what shape or size she came in. And if they were a fan of Colin's smooth charm and sexy confidence? Even better.

Despite not having preferences, there was something that Colin dug more than anything. It wasn't something that he had ever told anybody about, but for almost as long as he could remember a girl in glasses drove him wild.

It started with Sally Henderson in third grade. Colin couldn't be sure if it was just the glasses, but the way the round, pale pink frames with blue speckles sat on rosy, freckled cheeks made her the most beautiful girl in the world to his eight-year-old mind. As all first crushes are, it was all consuming, made up of not-so-sublte glances, chat-up lines taken from after school specials and red tinged tips of ears. Eventually, it came to a head with a wedding ceremony performed by Eddie Vogel beneath the monkey bars. It wasn't Colin's first choice for a venue, but the school yard had limited options.

As is the case with these things, feelings fizzled out as quickly as they came, but Colin's preference for glasses stayed. He would never be able to tell if the thing existed before Sally, or because of her. One thing he does know is that a part of him would always be a little bit disappointed that she ended up getting laser eye surgery. He wondered if that would count as reasonable grounds for divorce, but a marriage that was consummated by eating haribo rings off each other's fingers probably wasn't legally binding.

-

Colin didn't intend on stumbling into that coffee shop on that bright Tuesday morning, but he needed somewhere with decent Wi-Fi, so he could research recording studios. As much as he loved his local 24-hour diner, he didn't fancy standing on a particular table waving his arm about to try and get a sliver of signal. His band was just starting to gain traction locally, and they needed a decent EP to have any chance of meeting with any labels. Also, a decent coffee might've been the perfect antidote for the slight hangover that was stomping about Colin's mind.

The coffee shop was light and airy. Exposed brick and wooden beams made the place hip and trendy, but the pump velvet couches and armchairs gave off a cosy vibe. Looking at the blackboard, Colin gave a sigh of relief as he realized that the coffee shop wasn't 'too cool'. Colin may have been a musician, but he couldn't stand the pretentious hipster-type places. After picking up his order, he manoeuvred through the velvet maze trying to find a free table when his eyes were drawn to thick, plastic tortoiseshell.

Colin did a double take to find you sitting at a table to yourself, eyes trained on your laptop as you typed furiously, only pausing to take a sip of your tea; the steaming pot sat to your left indicated that you were intending to stay for a while. Colin strategically seated himself at a nearby table that kept you in his eyeline, he watched you like a hawk while he ate. As your eyes stayed glued to your screen, Colin wondered if you knew how adorable the faces you pulled as you concentrated were. The tip of your tongue peeking out between your lips as it glided from one corner of your mouth to the other, the way you scrunched your nose causing your glasses to shift. Oh. The glasses. The glasses perfectly accentuated your radiant beauty. But then, as if you'd read his mind, your left hand left the keyboard, subconsciously you used your index finger to push your glasses back up your nose. Colin Shea was officially a goner.

As if you'd felt Colin's glare, you glanced up and turned to Colin's direction. Colin became so flustered as he hurriedly picked up his phone, that he almost dropped it into his coffee mug. He quickly turned away from you, hoping that you hadn't noticed him staring; so quick that he didn't notice the smirk that was painted on your face, or that you'd adjusted your glasses again as your eyes took in the view before you.

Soon enough, both you and Colin were engrossed in your work. As time ticked by, mugs were refilled to the soundtrack of the tap tap of keyboards. Colin was making good progress with his research, and had written down the details of a few studios ready to discuss with the rest of the band at their next rehearsal Deciding to reward himself with more caffeine, he made his way to the counter. With his back turned, he didn't notice you finish up and start to pack your laptop away until he had picked up his order and started to head back to his table, where he couldn't keep his eyes off you. He was so transfixed by you that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. Walking into a chair, Colin dropped his mug, spilling hot coffee down himself.

“Argh! Shit!” he yelled, his face scrunched in pain.

Before he knew it, Colin felt something dabbing at his chest. Tentatively opening his eyes, all he could see was you, wad of napkins in hand trying your best to clean him up. God, you were so much more beautiful up close. Breath knocked out of him, he was frozen in place as he watched you take care of him. After a few seconds you felt Colin's gaze burning your skin and your eyes met with his. A shy awkwardness enveloped you both as you realized how close up and personal you were, despite never saying a word to each other before.

“Erm… Are you okay?” you muttered, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for coming to my rescue,” Colin said, trying to sound suave. But, a brainwave hit the pair of you at the same time as you both nervously looked down to find your hand resting on Colin's... chest.

You recoiled as if you had been the one burnt by the hot liquid as Colin felt heat rush to his cheeks. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you spotted Colin's mug on the floor and kneeled down to retrieve it. In Colin's mind there was nothing worse that you could do, as he had to remind himself that you were in a public space. As you grabbed the mug, you looked up and made eye contact with Colin again. There, the image of you knelt before him, eyes looking over the rim of your glasses was permanently etched onto Colin's mind, and he instantly knew that that image would be the source of many cold showers. Pushing the thought to onside, Colin offered his hand to you as he helped you to your feet. Not knowing what to say, you both shuffled on the spot. Colin decided that this was his chance to strike.

“Do you want to go and have a drink with me?-”

“Can I get you another coffee?-” Both you and Colin said in unison, before bursting into laughter.

Looking Colin up and down, you considered his offer. You didn't know this handsome stranger's name, but every fibre of your being was screaming at you to accept his invitation. Smirking, you looked into his ocean blue eyes.

“Okay, that sounds good, but on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You wear a t-shirt that isn't coffee stained.”

Colin snorted as he tried to stifle a laugh, causing butterflies to erupt.

“I'll see what I can do.” Colin replied flirtatiously, “And I'll take that coffee on one condition, you keep those glasses on at all times.”

You were slightly taken aback, by Colin's proposition. No one had ever taken such an interest in your glasses, however this was gonna go down, this was going to be fun.

“Sure,” you said trying to sound as confident as possible, you stretched your arm out to offer a handshake. “I'm Y/N, by the way.”

Colin grabbed your hand and gave you a firm handshake.

“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Y/N, I'm Colin.”

-

Taglist: @whiskey-cokenfanfic​ @mrs-captain-evans​ @pineconecat​ @katiew1973​ @supersoldiersruined-me​ @kelbabyblue​ @amiquette​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @patzammit​ @daydreamerinadazedworld​ @denisemarieangelina​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @bellaireland1981​

[onsunnyside]

𝘾.𝙎. – Smut

mostly PWP; one shots, drabbles and headcanons

Read the warnings for each fic.

Organized by author.

← 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork - Goals

@the-iceni-bitch - Every Little Thing