#i rubbed everything with alcohol pretty good so i SHOULD be good

[communist-hatsunemiku]

Ok i finally inoculated my grow bag after procrastinating on it forever. And now we wait

[darnell-la]

can i request older logan with reader who’s a crybaby… reader who cries over little things and older logan who can’t help but get hard and coddle her. wiping away tears during sex!!!

note: older Logan wouldn’t take y/n’s crying session seriously. Usually, they’d all be because of work, something he’s told her a thousand times he didn’t want her to do, so a part of him didn’t care. Instead, he loved how much she cried, taking advantage of it whenever he could.

———

“How was work today, Bub?” Logan asked, eyes glued to the newspaper he had picked up in front of the door earlier this morning. Y/n hadn’t said anything. She tried thinking of what exactly she should say, but he had spoken first.

“Bub? What up?” Logan asked, eyes looking over his reading glasses as she slipped off her shoes and hung her things up. “I-I — You know,” y/n said, but Logan in fact did not know.

“I know what?” He asked, setting his paper aside as he felt something wrong with her. “Work today — It was just exhausting,” she said as she went into the kitchen to grab a glass of any alcohol Logan bought for himself, and she drank occasionally.

“What happened?” Logan asked as she got up, listening closely to her story of the day. The more she talked, the more cracks he heard in her house.

“A-And the boss said maybe he’d fire me if I kept snapping back at the customers, but they always start it! Every day, it’s the same s-shit!”

“Baby, baby,” Logan said as he came up behind the young lady before she could pick up the glass she had just filled. “Don’t need you drinkin’ your problems away. It ain’t good for you,”

“I know, but — I just need something, Logan. This is so stressful,” she said as he turned her around to take a look at her face, and like he knew it, she was crying. Eyes glossy and puffy as always.

“Baby,” Logan tilted his head with a sigh, upset that she’s always stressed and taking in everything people say to her. He wished she could just move on with life, and stay happy with a big smile.

“Look at me, Bub,” Logan said as he lifted her head after she tried turning her head. “You need to relax — Stop letting these people get to your head,” Logan said as he wiped her tears.

“I know, but-“ y/n tried saying, but the man shushed her. “Don’t speak, Bub, just relax. And no drinking either,” Logan said as he moved the glass she filled to the side.

“You’re too pretty to be cryin’ all the time, baby,” Logan said as his faves nuzzled hers. “I-It’s just so much,” y/n cried as his hands rubbed her body, trying to calm her down a bit.

“I know, baby, and what did I tell you? Told you I’d take that easy lumberjack job, right? Get us double what an average human man could make workin’ for ‘em and put that money towards our cabin,” Logan reminded her.

“Baby, I don’t want you to work though,” y/n said as his hands tracked up her shirt. “And why can’t I? I’m the man, and you’re my pretty girl. I’m tired of being a housewife. That’s your job, or at least let me do it all. You can relax the rest of your pretty life,” Logan said in the crook of her neck.

“You’re gonna take my offer, bub. Ian askin,” Logan’s hand dug into her jeans to rub at her cunt until she squealed. “I-I don’t know,” she still cried, upset at herself for being this sensitive and also hit by the instant pleasure Logan was giving her.

“What did I say, baby? This ain’t askin,” Logan said before he ripped y/n’s jeans off of her. She gasped as he picked her up and placed her on the counter, spreading her legs as he pulled himself out of his jeans.

“You should be waitin’ at home for him to come back and give it up. Not the other way around, baby,”

Logan pushed into the weeping girl, making her hands fly up to grip shi shoulder. “Logan,” y/n sobbed, feeling his cock run through her walls in all of the right ways. He always made her forget why she cried in the first place.

“Ssh, baby — Just enjoy me. Cunts beggin’ for it,” Logan said as he cupped her face, wiping all of the tears that streamed down her face. “Mhm hmm,” he groaned as his free arm hooked under one of her legs to get a good new angle to pound her in.

“L-Lo,” y/n cried out, loving the way his body smacked against hers. “That’s it, baby — Let it all out,” Logan pulled her into his body, pounding so hard, that the countertop began shifting.

“Cry on my cock, baby — Look so good like this. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t lie as his eyes could barely stay open and tears still streamed from them. He was Jauch a crybaby, but his crybaby.

[pucksandpower]

What Happens in Vegas

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the morning after the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you wake up with one new wedding ring and zero clue about what happened … or who your husband is

You wake up with a pounding headache, the sunlight filtering through the curtains feeling like daggers in your eyes. Groaning, you roll over and glance at the clock on the nightstand.

12:37 pm.

Far later than you would normally sleep, but given the circumstances, not entirely surprising.

The night before was the Las Vegas Grand Prix and things had gotten a little out of hand afterwards. Okay, more like a lot out of hand.

The details are fuzzy but you vaguely recall dancing on a table at some point and did someone get pushed into the hotel fountain?

Ugh. You make a mental note to apologize to whoever ended up taking an unexpected late-night swim last night.

Sitting up slowly, you rub your temples, trying to ease the jackhammer currently going off in your head. Getting blackout drunk maybe wasn’t the most professional move, but hey, what happens in Vegas and all that.

You stumble into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on your face. As you reach for a towel, the glint of metal on your left hand makes you pause.

No. It can’t be.

But there it is, a simple gold band around your ring finger.

A wedding ring.

Your wedding ring, apparently.

“What the hell?” You mutter, staring at your reflection in disbelief.

You rack your brain, trying desperately to remember what happened last night. But it’s no use, the details are lost in an alcohol-induced haze.

You married someone last night. In Vegas. While ridiculously drunk.

This is bad. Really bad.

Your career, your reputation, everything is on the line here. Who knows what kind of scandal this could cause if word got out? You need to figure out who you married and do damage control, fast.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm the rising panic. Freaking out won’t solve anything right now. You need answers and sitting here panicking won’t get you any. Time to do some investigating.

You quickly throw on some clothes and head downstairs to the hotel lobby. The drivers had agreed to meet for brunch today before getting thoroughly wasted last night. Maybe one of them knows something.

As you step out of the elevator, you immediately spot a group of your friends chatting in the lobby. Max, Charles, Lando … the usual suspects.

Lando is the first to spot you. “Well good morning, Mrs. Lando Norris,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You freeze. No way. There’s no way you married Lando. The kid is like a little brother to you. An obnoxious, hyperactive little brother. But Lando just laughs at your stunned expression.

“Kidding! You should see your face right now,” he giggles. Little punk. But at least that rules out Lando as your surprise husband.

You roll your eyes and shove Lando playfully before turning to the others. “So, crazy night last night, huh?” You say, aiming for nonchalance.

Max shrugs. “I mean, it’s Vegas. Things do tend to get wild.”

“Right, wild,” you echo. Time to cut to the chase. “So wild that I ended up getting married apparently.”

You hold up your left hand, wedding ring glinting in the light. The others stare at it then at each other, puzzled.

“Wait, you actually got married last night?” Charles asks incredulously.

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Yes! And I have no idea who I married. Come on mates, you must remember something from last night that can help me figure this out.”

But their faces are blank, everyone shaking their heads. Useless, the whole lot of them.

You turn to Max, who averts his eyes, looking uncomfortable.

“Max, come on. You always know everything that happens on these nights out. Help me out here,” you plead.

Max shuffles his feet, not meeting your gaze. “I mean, it was pretty crazy. I was very drunk too,” he mumbles.

You sigh in frustration. Clearly you’re not getting anywhere with this group. You need to try someone else, someone who maybe left the party early last night.

You recall Fernando complaining about the horrible music at one point. Bingo.

“Alright, I gotta go see if I can find someone who can get me answers,” you announce. “You drunkards are no help.”

As you turn to leave, Charles calls after you, “Let us know if you find out who the unlucky guy is!” This earns snickers from Lando and Max.

You shake your head and head out to find Fernando. That Spaniard better have some useful information or there will be hell to pay.

One thing is certain, you will get to the bottom of this. You need to find out who this mystery husband is, sort out this mess, and most importantly, get this ring off your finger before the media catches wind of your drunken Vegas wedding.

This is going to be one hell of a day.

***

After leaving the unhelpful group in the lobby, you set out to find Fernando. The Spaniard has always had a keen eye for details. If anyone saw what happened last night, it would be him.

You find Fernando sitting alone at a table in the closest coffee shop, sipping an espresso. He looks irritatingly fresh-faced and put together given the wild night you all had.

“Well good morning, chiquita,” he says with a smirk as you plop down across from him. “You look like you had quite the night.”

You scowl at him. “No thanks to you. Leaving the party early again, I see.”

Fernando shrugs. “What can I say? I’m getting too old for these Vegas nights out with you crazy kids.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Oh yes, grandpa, you’re soooo old at 42. Anyway, I need your help figuring something out.”

You hold up your left hand, the wedding ring glinting under the lights. “Any idea how this might have ended up on my finger last night?”

Fernando raises an eyebrow, looking far too amused. “Well well, our little Y/N got married in Vegas. Who’s the lucky man?”

You huff in annoyance. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out! I don’t remember anything from last night. But I woke up this morning hungover as hell with this on my hand.” You waggle your finger for emphasis.

Fernando sits back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, interesting. And you say you remember nothing?”

“Nothing!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up. “Everything after the third tequila shot is a total blank. Please tell me you saw something that can help me out here.”

You give Fernando your best pleading puppy dog eyes but the Spanish driver just shakes his head.

“Sadly, I did not witness this alleged wedding. I turned in early, unlike you wild youths.”

You groan and let your head fall to the table. “This is bad, Fernando. Really bad. I could lose my seat over this if the team finds out I pulled a stunt like this. I need to figure out who I married!"

Fernando pats your head condescendingly. “There there, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Your secret is safe with me.”

You peer up at him suspiciously. “Just how secret is this? The smirk on your face makes me think you know something.”

The smirk widens. “Maybe I know something, maybe I don’t. But I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you.”

“Nando!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “This isn’t funny! Just tell me who I married!”

“Nope,” he says, popping the P obnoxiously. “It is too entertaining watching you squirm.”

You let out a frustrated growl. “You’re the worst. I don’t know why I bothered asking you for help.”

“Because you love me, that’s why,” Fernando says with a cheeky wink.

You can’t help but smile a bit at that. You’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for the menace.

“Ugh fine, keep your secrets,” you concede. “I’ll figure this out without your help.”

You start to stand up but Fernando stops you. “Leaving so soon? Stay, have some breakfast with me. You’re going to need your energy today.”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of food so you sink back down into your seat. “I guess I could eat something while I plot my next move.”

A waiter comes by and you order a massive plate of food to soak up the alcohol still swimming in your system. As you tuck into your meal, you notice Fernando watching you from across the table, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he says. “Whoever you ended up marrying ... they are a very lucky man. Underneath this hungover mess, you have a good heart. Don’t be too hard on yourself over one wild night, eh?”

You pause mid-bite, touched by his sincerity. “Thanks, Nando. That really means a lot coming from you.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand briefly before returning to his coffee. The playful twinkle returns to his eye. “Even if you did get married like an idiot last night.”

You snort. “Wow, thanks. Way to ruin the moment there.”

Fernando shrugs, unrepentant. “What can I say? I live to annoy you, little sister.”

You finish up your meal, feeling slightly better with some food in you. As frustrating as that encounter was, at least you can count on Fernando to keep this quiet. Time to go gather more clues.

You stand and point an accusatory finger at Fernando. “This isn’t over. I will get to the bottom of this mystery marriage!”

Fernando just smiles enigmatically. “I have no doubt. Good luck, Mrs. Whatever Your New Last Name Is.”

You stick your tongue out at him maturely and flounce away. That man is infuriating. But the quest continues. Time to find the next driver on your interrogation list.

***

You decide to try your luck with Daniel next. The Aussie partied hard but he’s also a notorious gossip. Maybe he caught wind of something that can point you in the right direction.

You find Daniel lounging by the pool, sunglasses on, basking in the Vegas sun like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

So unfair.

“Hello there, sunshine,” he drawls as you walk up. “Don’t you look fresh as a daisy this fine day.”

You glare at him from behind your own sunglasses. “Stuff it, Ricciardo. I’m only here because I need information from you.”

Daniel gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! Here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” you roll your eyes. “When you’re not being a pain in my ass.”

“A pain in that fine ass of yours? Perish the thought!”

You smack him lightly upside the head and he chuckles. “Alright alright, what do you need from old mate Daniel?”

You plop down in the lounge chair next to him and hold up your left hand. “I need you to tell me anything you know or can remember about how this got on my finger last night.”

Daniel lets out a low whistle. “Well tickle me pink and call me Sheila, Y/N’s gone and got herself hitched in Vegas!”

You shush him frantically. “Keep your voice down! The last thing I need is for this to get out.”

Looking far too delighted by the situation, Daniel leans in conspiratorially. “Right, top secret and all that. Who’s the lucky fella then?”

You sigh. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Everything after we moved on to OMNIA is a total blackout. Please tell me you know something.”

Daniel taps his chin thoughtfully. “Let me think here ... I may have some recollection of the night’s events.”

You perk up. “Yes? Go on then, tell me!”

“I do seem to remember ...” he pauses theatrically, “... that I was your very own ring bearer for the occasion!”

Your face falls. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?”

Daniel grins cheekily. “What can I say, it was a beautiful ceremony. I was truly honored to be part of it.”

You smack his arm. “You’re no help at all! Come on, I’m desperate here.”

Daniel laughs and puts up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m just having a bit of fun with ya. Truth is, I was as pissed as the rest of you lot last night. Don’t remember much myself.”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Daniel must take pity on your crestfallen face because he places a hand on your shoulder. “Chin up, Y/N. So you got a little wild in Vegas, it happens. I’m sure you’ll get it all sorted out.”

You nod but can’t keep the worry from your face. “I know, it’s just ... this could really screw things up if anyone finds out. I don’t even know who I married!”

“Well then it’s a good thing you’ve got the Honey Badger on the case!” He proclaims cheerfully. “I may not have the details but I’ll sniff around and ask some questions on the down low.”

You smile gratefully. “I appreciate that. Hopefully someone around here knows something.”

Daniel pops to his feet and offers you a hand. “Too right! Now come on, up you get. Let’s go scrounge up some greasy food and hair of the dog for that hangover, eh?”

You let Daniel pull you to your feet, feeling bolstered by his positivity.

As you head towards the sports bar in search of a burger and fries, Daniel slings an arm around your shoulder. “Cheer up! This’ll make for one hell of a story someday. It might even become a Grill The Grid trivia question.”

Despite everything, you have to laugh. Trust Daniel to look for the bright side.

But you still can’t ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You married someone last night. For real. It’s not just some random hookup you can laugh off. There’s a living, breathing person out there who you pledged your life to and you don’t even know their name.

What kind of person did drunk Y/N choose as a life partner? Are they worried about this too? Or are they some opportunistic sleaze looking to take advantage of you?

You shake your head, realizing Daniel is watching you with a quizzical look. No use speculating. Just keep searching for answers, one driver at a time.

***

After saying goodbye to Daniel, you set off in search of Lewis. As the life of every party, surely he has to know the details of your wild night.

You eventually track him down just outside the hotel, walking his beloved bulldog. Lewis grins when he sees you approaching.

“Ah the bride awakens at last! We were wondering when you’d emerge,” he says with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes. “News sure travels fast. I’m guessing Nando blabbed?”

Lewis shakes his head. “When you have an impromptu wedding in the middle of a rager in Vegas, people are going to talk.”

You wince, dreading how far word of this has already spread. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you need information.

“About that ...” you say. “I don’t suppose you happen to know who I ended up marrying last night?”

Lewis’ grin widens. “Now what kind of best man would I be if I spilled the beans?”

You stare at him in shock. “Best man? You were there?”

“But of course!” Lewis declares. “Had to lend my impeccable fashion sense for your dress. Pulled some strings with a stylist I know and got you all hooked up last minute.”

Your mind is reeling. You got married in an actual wedding dress? This just gets worse and worse.

You wrack your brain trying to picture it. But you have zero memory of any dress. Lewis must read the confusion on your face.

“Don’t worry, I had it safely delivered to your room after you started taking it off in the middle of the club. Though I’m guessing you were in no state to keep track of it,” he chuckles.

You shake your head, still stunned. “I didn’t see any dress in my room. What did you do with it?”

Lewis taps his chin. “You know, I did pop in this morning to check on you but you were still passed out cold. So I had the dress boxed up and sent off to be preserved and framed as a gift.”

He crouches down to scratch Roscoe behind the ears. “That’s from me and this good boy right here. Couldn’t let such a work of art go to waste!”

You’re touched in spite of yourself. “That’s really sweet, thank you. But I would really rather just know who I married right now.”

Lewis stands back up and wags his finger. “Ah ah ah, where’s the fun in that? This is the most entertainment we’ve had all season!”

You groan as Lewis laughs. “Come on, Lew. Have mercy and put me out of my misery here.”

But Lewis just zips his mouth. “My lips are sealed! Don’t you worry though, he’s a great guy. You’ve got my stamp of approval.”

You cross your arms in frustration. Of course Lewis would drag this out like a sitcom. But his clue gives you pause.

“He’s a great guy,” Lewis said. So your mystery spouse is someone Lewis personally knows and actually approves of. That narrows it down a bit.

Lewis gives you an apologetic smile and checks his watch. “I’d best be off. But don’t worry, you’ll figure this out!” He tosses a wink over his shoulder as he saunters away with Roscoe in tow.

You watch them go, mind spinning.

Lewis doesn’t just compliment anyone. So apparently drunk Y/N didn’t marry a total disaster. That’s something at least.

You absently twist the wedding band around your finger. You wish you could remember anything about him, about what happened between you.

Did you have a beautiful ceremony? Exchange heartfelt vows? Share a magical first dance as spouses?

You shake your head ruefully. If so, what a shame not to remember any of it. Here’s hoping that this “great guy” turns out to be someone who can make you fall in love all over again ...

***

You decide on a new approach — find the person who actually married you and your husband last night. Whoever officiated the ceremony must know the identity of your mystery groom.

The only problem is, you have no idea who that could be. It’s not like Vegas chapels employ actual priests or judges to perform marriages. It was probably just some random person licensed to perform marriages.

You start making the rounds of the chapels on the Strip, showing your ring and asking if anyone remembers you coming in during the night. But you have no luck — most of the chapels you try to check in with aren’t even open yet, catering to the drunk impulsive crowd that comes out after dark.

After hours of fruitless searching, you plop down on a bench in front of the Venetian, racking your brain for what to try next.

A group of women in matching Bride Tribe shirts walk by, laughing and chatting in that way only tipsy daytime bachelorettes can.

One of them pauses as they pass and calls out to you. “Hey hun, you look down. Guy trouble?” She gestures to your ring.

You debate waving her off but then reconsider. Maybe a bachelorette party would know their way around the Vegas wedding scene.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you reply. “I’m trying to find the person who married me last night but it was a bit of a ... wild impromptu thing. I don’t even know where it happened.”

The women gasp excitedly. “Oh my god, a drunk Vegas wedding? That’s epic!” Says the one in the rhinestoned Bride To Be sash.

“Epic disaster more like,” you mutter but can’t help smiling. Their enthusiasm is infectious.

The bride puts her arm around you. “Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll help you sort this out! I know all the best chapels.” She turns to her posse. “Ladies, let’s help her track down her mystery hubby!”

You find yourself swept up in the bachelorettes’ mission to assist you. After barraging you with questions about the wedding (“Please tell me you at least had a cute dress?” “Oooh was it Elvis themed?”), they decide that the most likely chapel was The Little Vegas Wedding Chapel off the north end of the Strip.

You all pile into their pink party bus and soon pull up at the aforementioned chapel. The receptionist greets you with a smile. “Welcome ladies! Who’s the lucky bride today?”

The girls nudge you forward. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Well actually, I’m trying to find out if I was a bride here last night.” You show her your ring. “I don’t remember much but I know I got married. I was hoping you might have a record?”

The receptionist types away on her computer, then frowns. “Hmm doesn’t look like we had any late night weddings yesterday. Our last was at 10 pm.”

You sigh but thank her anyway. So much for that idea. At least the bachelorettes are still upbeat as you climb back on their bus.

“No luck there but it was still a fun adventure!” The bride-to-be seems to have all the enthusiasm in the world.

You nod, grateful for their attempts to help. As the bus starts moving, the bride gasps.

“Wait, girls, I think I know where we need to go!” She turns to you excitedly. “There’s this little all-night chapel down on Fremont Street. Our friend Val got married there on a total whim a few years ago and she said it was fabulous!”

A chorus of squeals greets this news. You aren’t sure this is a solid lead, but hey, it’s not like you have any better ideas.

“Alright, let’s give it a shot!”

Twenty minutes later you’re climbing out of the bus in front of a small chapel with a neon 24 Hour Weddings sign. Taking a deep breath, you push through the door into the kitschy Vegas-themed space.

At the front counter is an older man in an Elvis costume that must be at least a size too small. Bingo. You hurry over and show him your ring.

“By any chance did you marry me and some guy last night?”

The Elvis impersonator peers at you for a moment before his face lights up in recognition. “Well slap me sideways, you’re the lovely lady I helped get hitched last night! What a shindig that was!”

Your heart leaps. Finally a lead! “Yes that was me! Do you by chance have a record of who I married?”

Elvis frowns. “You mean you don’t remember the young fella? He was real handsome, said some mighty sweet vows if I recall correctly.”

You shake your head in frustration. So close and yet so far.

Elvis pats your arm. “No worries darling, old Elvis remembers. I gotcha hitched to ...”

You lean forward eagerly as Elvis taps his chin, racking his memory.

“Now let’s see ... young fella you married. He was oh ... a bit taller than you I’d say. Had one of them European accents — German, Swedish, or somethin’ like that. Brown hair I think. A pretty good lookin’ chap. Dressed real sharp too.”

Your heart sinks as Elvis delivers the extremely vague description. Brown hair and a little over your height? Well that only narrows it down to about half of the paddock!

You groan and smack your forehead in frustration. So close! Elvis gives you an apologetic look.

“Aw shucks, wish I could tell ya more little lady. But I was croonin’ so many love songs last night that all you couples started to blend together.”

You force a smile, knowing he did try his best. “That’s alright, I appreciate you checking for me.”

Back outside, you fill in the eager bachelorettes on Elvis’ less than helpful clues. Their excitement deflates a bit.

“Dang, that could be like, anyone!” One says, voicing your thoughts exactly.

The bride-to-be squeezes your shoulder. “Don’t worry hun, we’ll keep thinking! Your mystery man is out there somewhere.”

You give her a grateful hug. “Thanks ladies, for all your help today. I should probably get back to my hotel and keep investigating.”

The gaggle of girls walks you back to the bus, firing off more wild theories about your potential groom.

“Oooh what if it’s that sexy Spanish driver … Alfonso?” Suggests the bridesmaid named Amy.

“It’s Alonso,” you correct with a laugh. She may be way off but you appreciate the enthusiasm.

As you say goodbye to your new friends, your mind is spinning once again. So Elvis confirmed this wedding really happened, though his clues weren’t particularly enlightening.

But he did say one thing — whoever you married gave sweet vows. So apparently in your drunken state, you picked someone who could be sincere and romantic.

That has to count for something, right?

You glance down at the wedding ring on your finger, the physical reminder of the huge secret you’re unraveling. Did you really promise to spend your life with someone here of all places? And do they plan on holding you to that promise?

Your gut twists with anxiety but also a trace of curiosity. Who is this mystery man who can make drunken Elvis shed a sentimental tear?

Whoever he is, you’re going to find him.

***

Exhausted after a day of fruitless searching, you decide to head back to your hotel to regroup. You slump down onto one of the plush couches in the crowded lobby, mind still spinning over the bizarre situation you’ve found yourself in.

Who exactly did you end up pledging eternal devotion to in your drunken stupor last night? So far your quest to unravel this mystery marriage has led nowhere.

But you can’t rest yet. You need answers.

As you sit there contemplating your next move, your phone starts blowing up with Twitter notifications. You blink in surprise. Must be big news dropping for this much activity.

You open the app and nearly swallow your tongue when you see the top trending hashtag: #Y/NMaxWedding.

Your stomach drops to your feet.

No no no, this cannot be happening!

But with a sense of impending doom, you click on the hashtag. Immediately you see the bombshell that has sent your world into a tailspin.

It’s a tweet from a fan account, featuring photos they somehow obtained of a Clark County Nevada marriage certificate between you ... and Max Verstappen. Your teammate.

You stare slack-jawed at the images of the official document signed by you and Max as spouses, clear as day. Your drunken Vegas escapade isn’t a secret anymore. It’s public record, blasted all over social media.

Numb with shock, you scroll through countless tweets analyzing, freaking out over, and cracking jokes about you and Max’s surprise nuptials. Some fans are outraged. Others seem delighted at this bombshell gossip.

You groan, head in your hands. This is an absolute disaster. What was merely a drunken mistake is now immortalized online. There’s no hiding it or hoping it will blow over quietly.

You married Max freaking Verstappen in Vegas. The sometimes arrogant and standoffish but always crazy talented driver you’re teammates with. No wonder he was acting so squirrelly this morning when you asked about the wedding.

Some logical part of your brain knows you need to talk to Max, start figuring out what to do for damage control. But the overwhelmed emotional side just wants to crawl under a rock and hide.

In a daze, you make your way up to your suite. Once inside, you toss your phone onto the bed, not even bothering to read the likely hundreds of texts blowing it up. You are in no state of mind to talk to your manager or team right now.

Collapsing onto the couch, you stare blankly at the wall, feeling numb. Despite all your investigating, a part of you still hoped that maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe the ring and certificate were just part of some elaborate prank.

But there’s no denying it now. You’re well and truly married to Max Verstappen.

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of you. Of all the drivers, of course you had end up with him. Max, your fiercest rival, constantly pushing you to be better. The teammate who drives you crazy but also loves to compete with you and rile you up.

God, your friends are never going to let you live this down. Married to Max. It’s like some cheesy fanfiction brought to life.

You glance over at your silent phone. The logical part of your brain knows you need to call him. You’re going to have to talk about this and figure out what the hell to do next.

But the overwhelmed part wants to put that conversation off indefinitely. You need time to process the bombshell that just upended your life before you can face Max.

Your inner debate is interrupted by a knock at your door. You freeze. No doubt it’s the Red Bull PR team come to scold you or paparazzi looking for a comment on your no-longer-a-secret marriage. Well you have nothing to say to them!

“Go away!” You yell but the knocking persists. With an irritated huff, you wrench open the door, fully prepared to give whoever’s there a piece of your mind.

Instead, you come face to face with the person you least expected but probably most needed to see. Max stands in your doorway, sheepish and awkward.

For several tense beats, you just stare at each other, the weight of this life-altering moment hanging between you.

Finally Max breaks the silence. “So ... quite a day, huh?” He gives an uneasy chuckle.

You continue gaping at him, stunned into silence. Max shuffles his feet, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Can I uh, come in? I think maybe we should talk.”

Wordlessly, you step aside and let him enter the suite. Max perches on the edge of an armchair while you sink onto the couch. More tense silence.

Max clears his throat. “So I’m guessing you’ve seen it?”

You nod mutely. Max sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, Y/N ... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But I woke up just as confused as you this morning. Wasn’t totally sure it was even real.”

He hesitates then continues softly. “You were pretty out of it last night. We all were. Getting hitched was obviously crazy but I guess it seemed fun in the moment.”

You shake your head, finding your voice at last. “This goes way beyond fun, Max! We’re married! Actually married!" Your voice edges up hysterically on the last word.

“Yes it was a ... crazy night,” Max laughs nervously.

You scoff bitterly. “That’s putting it mildly. I’d say a drunken Vegas wedding to my teammate counts as more than just crazy!"

Max winces at your tone. “Look Y/N, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. But we were all wasted last night. I didn’t even remember at first—”

You cut him off sharply. “Well I don’t remember any of it! As far as I’m concerned, this so-called marriage never even happened.”

You begin pacing. “We need to get this annulled immediately before things get worse. It was clearly an idiotic mistake.”

Max frowns, looking hurt. “Whoa, no need to be so harsh. It may have been drunken impulse but ... maybe it was also fate.”

You stop pacing and stare at him incredulously. “Fate? Are you insane?”

He stands and steps towards you. “Hear me out. We’ve been teammates for years now. Maybe deep down we both wanted this.”

Your jaw drops open. Max keeps going.

“I know it’s crazy but what if this marriage was meant to be? We owe it to ourselves to give this a real shot before bailing.”

You gaze at him in disbelief. Is he seriously suggesting ...

“Give this a real shot?” You repeat faintly.

Max takes your hands earnestly. “Yes! We’ve always made a great team on track. Just imagine how great we would be together off track too.”

You open your mouth to argue but Max presses on. “Plus, my children need a mother.”

You yank your hands back in shock. “Children? You have kids?”

“Well, not human kids,” Max admits sheepishly. “But my cats, Jimmy and Sassy! They need a maternal influence.”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with Max’s ramblings. Is he pranking you right now?

He fixes you with his most charming smile. “Come on, wifey. Just give it a chance! We’re clearly compatible if drunk us wanted to get married.”

You stare at him like he sprouted a second head. Max gazes back hopefully. His smile really is kind of adorable ...

No! Snap out of it! This is crazy.

But he does raise some valid points. And backing out now would cause an even bigger scandal ...

You slump down onto the couch with a groan. “Fine! We’ll stay married for now. But we explain to the team it was just drunken foolishness.”

Max pumps his fist. “Yes! See, we’re already compromising with each other. It’s like we’re meant to be husband and wife!”

That finally breaks through your haze of shock. Oh god ... you have to tell Christian Horner that you married Max Verstappen.

***

You take a deep breath as you stand outside Christian’s hotel suite, arm raised to knock. “Ready for this?” You ask Max.

He grimaces. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Might as well get it over with.”

You steel your nerves and rap sharply on the door. After a moment, it swings open to reveal Christian mid-yawn.

“Y/N, Max, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks curiously.

You shuffle your feet, not sure how to start. “Uh, hey Christian. Max and I have something we need to discuss with you. Mind if we come in for a minute?”

Christian narrows his eyes but steps aside to let you both in. “What’s this about? I just got off a conference call with the factory team in Milton Keynes and I was finally planning to try my luck with the slots downstairs.”

You perch awkwardly on the edge of an armchair while Max stands next to you stiffly.

How do you even begin to break this kind of news to your boss?

“So Christian, funny story ...” you start lamely.

Max jumps in, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. “We got married last night.”

Christian’s eyes widen comically. For a long moment he just looks between you two like you each have three heads. Then he throws his head back and laughs heartily.

“Good one guys, you almost had me there! Trying to pull one over on your poor old team principal, very funny,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes.

You give a weak smile. “No uh, we’re actually being serious. We got married for real last night.”

Max nods. “It just sort of ... happened.”

Christian collapses onto the sectional, looking between you in shock. “This would be a great time for you to stop with the prank.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Max says solemnly. “We were drunk and it was all really quite fast ...”

“No no, this must be some kind of joke!" Christian protests, though he’s starting to look uncertain. He grabs his phone off the coffee table. “Let me just check online, there’s no way ...”

His voice trails off as he scans his phone screen, eyes going wide at the headlines. With a low groan, he collapses back into his armchair.

“It’s true? You two actually ...” He drags a hand down his face. “Please tell me this is all some elaborate hoax the internet cooked up. Please tell me that two other people named Max Verstappen and Y/N Y/L/N happened to get married in Vegas last night.”

You shake your head helplessly.

Christian drops his head into his hands with a groan. “Unbelievable. Two of my drivers running off and eloping in Vegas! The media is going to have an absolute field day with this.”

He fixes you both with a stern glare. “Do either of you have any idea the position this puts the team in? The scandal it could cause?”

You hang your head, properly chastised. Max speaks up tentatively. “We’re really sorry, Christian, it was incredibly stupid of us. But it’s done now so we just have to deal with it.”

Christian sighs heavily. “You’re not wrong. The last thing we need is more media drama so we will have to get out in front of this.”

He pauses, regarding you both shrewdly. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll pursue an annulment right away and we can pretend this never happened?”

You glance at Max, who takes your hand and shakes his head. “We’ve talked it over and want to make this work. It happened for a reason.”

Christian makes a strangled noise. “Make this work? You plan on staying married??” His voice rises in pitch, verging on hysterical.

“We want to try,” you confirm, squeezing Max’s hand.

Christian looks desperately between you two once more before his eyes roll back and he slumps over in a dead faint.

You and Max rush over in concern. “Christian!" Max taps his face urgently. “C’mon, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, Christian’s eyes flutter open. “Wha ... what happened?” He mumbles.

“You passed out when we told you we’re staying married,” you explain sheepishly.

Christian groans, covering his face with his arm. “God help me, this is a nightmare ...”

You have to bite back an inappropriate laugh. Seeing your usually unflappable team principal so flustered would be funny if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Max helps Christian sit up and hands him a glass of water. “Sorry for springing this on you. But we’re going to make the best of it.”

Christian fixes Max with a weary look. “Just promise me no more reckless surprises from you two.”

You and Max raise your right hands in unison. “We promise!”

Taking a deep breath, Christian straightens his shirt and smooths his hair, regaining his composure. “Right. Well this is certainly an unexpected development. But the show must go on.”

He adopts his usual businesslike tone. “We’ll need to draft a press release announcing this immediately and get ahead of the media cycle. No commenting publicly until we strategize.”

You both nod obediently. Christian checks his watch. “I needed to get our PR team on the phone five minutes ago. You two, order room service and lay low until you hear from me.”

He ushers you politely but firmly out the door. As it shuts behind you, you turn to Max with wide eyes. “Well ... that could’ve gone worse?”

Max winces. “I thought Christian was going to burst a blood vessel at first. But it seems he’s taking it in stride.”

You both burst into slightly hysterical laughter, the stress melting away.

Looks like you have a marriage to figure out how to actually make work.

***

One year later

You take a deep breath as you knock on the door to Christian’s office, Max by your side. It’s time to break some more big news to your team principal.

“Come in!” Christian calls.

You enter to find him sitting at his desk surrounded by the usual organized chaos of strategy plans and data analysis.

He looks up, blinking in surprise. “Y/N, Max, what brings you by?”

You glance at Max, who gives you an encouraging nod and tentative smile. Turning back to Christian, you clasp your hands together nervously.

“Hey Christian. So, remember last year in Vegas when we promised no more reckless surprises?”

Christian’s eyes narrow warily. “Yeeesss ...” he draws out.

You look at Max again who blurts out, “Well we have another surprise coming your way. You’re going to be a grandpa!”

Christian’s jaw drops. His gaze darts down to your still flat midsection then back up to your nodding, beaming faces.

“You ... you’re ...” Christian stammers, looking like all the blood has drained from his face.

You take pity and confirm it for him. “Pregnant, yes. Surprise!” You add with an awkward chuckle.

For a few long moments Christian just sits there, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish. Then, his eyes roll back and he topples forward, head thunking down on his desk.

You and Max rush forward. “Uh no, I think we broke him again,” Max winces, gently shaking Christian’s shoulder.

After a few tense seconds, Christian stirs with a groan. “Oww, my head ...”

“You passed out when we told you about the baby,” you explain sheepishly.

Christian blinks blearily up at you both hovering over him anxiously. “The baby ... so it’s really true then?”

You place a hand on your stomach. “Yep! There’s going to be a little Verstappen running around in around seven and a half months.”

Despite his obvious shock, Christian manages a weak smile. “Well how about that ... we’re expanding the Red Bull family.”

Max claps him on the back. “I know it seems a bit crazy but we’re thrilled.” He squeezes your hand and smiles softly.

Christian lets out a long breath, straightening his rumpled shirt. “Well, I appreciate you both coming to me first this time. We’ll need to strategize how to share the happy news.”

You can’t resist teasing him gently. “Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to avoid making you faint again in the future.”

Christian levels a stern finger at you both. “See that you do. My heart can only take so much.” But his mock glare melts into a warm smile.

You exchange a grin with Max.

It turns out that sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas … but neither of you is going to complain about that.

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[robo-writing]

Hello! Love your Logan fics! If I could, could I ask for x-men trilogy Logan finding out what a hurricane shot is?(it’s where the guy takes a shot of alcohol and then a bartender (usually a really pretty woman that’s sitting on top the bar in front of the guy) splashes him with water and slaps him across the face. (really popular in the college towns in Florida) like scott mentions he had a hurricane shot when he was in high school during a senior trip to Florida and Logan asks what the hell that is. And his crush just goes “you don’t know what that is?! You drink booze for a living and you don’t know what that is???!” And precedes to just show him much to Scott laughing his ass off at seeing Logan getting drenched in water and slapped across the face, and Logan just fucking bewildered what the hell just happened and probably a bit horny (he got a pain kink, so getting slapped by his crush is like up his alley)

"The fuck is a hurricane shot?" Both you and scott's ears perk up, him being the first to express his surprise. "You've never heard of a hurricane shot?" "Am I suppose to?" He asks, getting just the slightest bit annoyed at how you two giggle between each other, some kind of secret language between the two of you.

“I’m just surprised is all,” you say, looking at him with mild amusement. “You’re the guy with his name tag on the barstool, so…”

“Real fuckin’ funny,” he huffs. “So what is it?”

You look up at him mischievously. “I think I’d rather just show you.”

Scott’s eyebrows go all the way up, a massive grin on his face. “Yeah, you should let her show you.”

You’re both snickering again and it almost makes him nervous. Almost.

“Sure, date and time?”

“Today, and now,” you say, running to the kitchen sink. You’re filling up a glass of water while Scott suddenly has his phone recording, more and more questions running through his head by the second.

“Okay, here’s your shot,” you say, sliding over a glass of rum. You’re holding a glass of water, looking down at it with barely contained excitement. “Do I have your permission?”

“Permission to what?”

“I can’t say.”

Logan’s feels his eye twitch. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise!” You reply, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. “It’s a yes or no Logan.”

He weights his options for a minute, figures that whatever you two’ve got planned he can kick your asses for it later, and with a shrug says—

“Fuck it, sure.”

You nod in his direction, eyes pointing to the glass, and with no theatrics he downs the entire thing in just one gulp. There’s nothing special about the shot, just the standard burn that accompanies it.

No, what’s special is what comes after.

The same moment the glass leaves his lips, the cup of water you were holding is thrown in his face. Before he can ask what the hell you’re doing, his face is whipped around.

You slapped him—rather hard, in fact. So unexpected he’s forced to stare off into nothing for a while before reality hits him.

He’s stood in shock, Scott laughing in the background while you complain about your sore hand. He’s drenched head to toe, still collecting his thoughts.

“What…was that?” He asks, hand reaching up to rub his cheek.

“That, my good friend, was a hurricane shot,” Scott replies, patting Logan on the back as he goes off to play his captured footage on loop. “Florida’s a wonderful place.”

You follow behind, chasing after Scott with a shout of “Lemme see!” Before the both of you disappear.

Logan’s stood in the kitchen by himself—and of everything that’s just happened to him, he can only conjure up a single thought.

That was really, really, hot.

[ch4nb4ng]

Give it to me Straight

Pairing: Minho x afab!reader

Genre: Best friend's forbidden older brother

Word Count: 9.1 k (yeah we got carried away once again)

Warnings: Based off of inspo (here) and (here) that is also literally porn so dont click if u dont want to see you have been warned.

Also contains: smut, worshipping, angst, mentions of alcohol and intoxication, fingering (f receiving), kissing, penetration, lots and lots of praise, semi soft smut

Notes: HEY!! this is a fic i wrote hald of last year and just forgot about it and found and decided to finish it, hope oyu enjoy !!

Summary: You had enough of your best friend brother, Minho, giving you mixed signals as you grew up, but this. This was the night that you were finally going to do something about it

The night was pretty much over, or well, it should have been. But here you were, sitting on the floor of a random person’s apartment, giggling over and over as you looked at the other 8 people also sitting down in a circle next to you. There were your friends, Sana and Hyunjin, and there were the others. Actually, quite frankly, you did not know these people until tonight. There was one person that was there, that you did know, all too well.

Minho, Lee Minho. Friend, foe? You weren’t sure what to call him, but all you knew was that you were grinding on him in the club an hour ago, hands roaming across your body, lips, teeth on your neck. It was fun, one shot after another had your mind racing, thinking about the possibilities of what could happen after you went home, with him. What wasn’t helpful was the guilt that came with such excitement. 

“Fuck okay,” the stranger yelled, clapping his hands before swinging them, taking the empty vodka bottle off the kitchen bench, “let’s play a good ole fashion game of spin the bottle. Who’s in?”

“Me me me!”

The small crowd cheered in unison, but all you could do was stare at him. More guilt, more excitement, more adrenaline. The thought of kissing him did nothing but intensify the want, the need, the desire to. Wanting to hook up with your best friend’s older brother was the worst thing that you could want at this very moment.

The relationship with Minho was always strange and never straightforward. Even from the first time the two of you met. Your best friend of almost 10 years since you had been in elementary school, he was just different towards you. When you were younger, all he did was pick on you. The short scrawny boy, only a couple of years older than you. Would always chase you around the school yard, always until you fell over, or hurt yourself in some kind of way. You hated him, and had no idea why he always picked on you specifically. 

It changed in middle school, however, after puberty, well, more for him. His face changed, grew taller, much more attractive in your 14 year old eyes. You denied it though, remembering how cruel he was to you. Not much changed personality wise, he was still mean. Picking on you, your grades, his sister, her grades. He was ruthless, and it made you hate him even more. Minho’s looks were easy to overlook when everything that came out of his mouth was rubbish.

It wasn’t until he left for college, and came back for summer after finishing his first year, did things change. He had grown even taller, started working out, and had joined his college’s dance team. Holy fuck did things became different. His smile beamed as soon as he walked in and you in his house, sitting at the kitchen bench. 

***

“Y/n?”

You turned around, jaw dropping the moment you laid your eyes on him. He dropped everything, fast walking towards you as he picked you up, spinning you around with a large chuckle erupting from his chest. He put you down, eyes doing a quick check up and down your body before biting down on his bottom lip.

“Minho?”

“Wow, you look, really, really good.”

His stance was close, almost lingering over you, that was, until your best friend walked in, causing him to step away, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked to the fridge so nonchalantly. Your friend gave you a weird look, mouthing a ‘sorry,’ solely for his presence in the room. They never were that close.

“I forgot to tell you that he got back a few days ago and is going to be here for the summer.”

“That’s okay,” you scoffed, overexaggerated manner, “why would you need to tell me that.”

“Because I know how he can be,” she whispered, “rude, mean, very obnoxious and super, super arrogant.” 

The second half of her sentence was louder, looking straight at him to make sure she knew. You just laughed, nervously, unsure how to take in the interaction.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she sighed, “please don’t bully my only friend while I’m gone.”

The man rolled his eyes, laughing as he took a large gulp from his water bottle. He walked forward, waiting for her to leave before reassessing his position. His hands leaned against the bench, body pushing forward as he leaned towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“I have to go, meeting a friend at the gym, but it was really, really good to see you. We should hang out sometimes if you’re free, you know, without her?”

“We should?”

“Yes,” he smirked, biting down on his bottom lip, “definitely.”

***

“Okay,” the stranger announced to himself, “I’ll go first.”

The game felt like torture. Simply watching the bottle, casting your eyes on what seemed to be an infinite amount of times, spinning on an axis. It didn’t help you at all. If anything, it intensified how dizzy you truly were feeling. Concentration was getting harder, but you refused. Refused to give up anything. You did not want to prove Minho’s point. That you would always be this little girl that is easy to pick on.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin nudged you, “Y/n, psst, the bottle is on you.”

His knock cloaked you out of your drunken daze, bringing some sobriety back as he pointed towards the bottle, eyes opening when you saw it land on you. You looked up, seeing the stranger was already there. He was attractive, short black hair, hazel eyes, freckles. He was really cute, and your brain melted the longer he gazed at you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you whispered, hand in front of your mouth as you giggled at his proximity. You didn’t have to look. The feeling of a pair of eyes burning into the side of your head was more than enough to know who had their eyes on you, and who didn’t. Chan did not, already ditching the game and sloppily making out with the person next to him. Hyunjin followed in pursuit, and Jisung and Sana, well, that was another story, a long time coming. The glance was brief, not long enough to focus on anybody, but well enough to know your surroundings. Enough to see the girl, who looked very familiar, but not enough to be identified by name, whisk her fingers across his inner thigh. He stayed still, not paying any mind to her as he fixated on you. The man joined in the staring contest, noticing Minho’s obviously unimpressed glare. 

He swung his head back in your direction, pushing his body weight on you in the slightest. You followed, back now adjacent to the floor as he leaned over, lips hovering over your own. You brought your index finger to his lips, curious to know more about the man before he kissed you.

“Wait.”

“Is something wrong?” His facial expression changed, unsure as to why or what made you hesitate.

“Oh, no,” you giggled, full of giddyness and intoxication, “your name. I just wanted to know your name before we, well, you know.”

The man smirked, cupping your face in adoration as he leaned closer, lips wisping across your ear as he spoke.

“Well aren’t you just the cutest?”

He pulled away, eyes back in level with your own as he spoke once more, “Felix. I’m Felix.”

That was all you needed, wrapping your arms around Felix’s neck as you pulled him in, eyes closing and mouth opening and lips attacking yours. The kiss in reality, from an outside perspective, would have looked very messy. Very sloppy as lips missed each other, teeth crashed together, and also the fact that you could feel Felix’s hips moving against your own in the slightest, already half hard member grinding against your thigh. It did feel good, you couldn’t fib to yourself. The gentle friction was delicious. It was enough to make you moan discreetly, the sound lost in Felix’s mouth as the two of you continued. 

You were enjoying yourself, but you also remembered not to lose yourself in the moment. Felix was fun, but he was just part of the plan. A simple pawn in a game of chess, of course being the queen and Minho the king. Sometimes you have to make some unnecessary moves to win in the long term. Even with your eyes closed, you could still feel his own burning into the back of your head. If sober, you most likely would have been feeling some kind of guilt. It wasn’t like you to rub things in other people’s faces. But you felt like it was only fitting. Yes, you wanted Minho, but after everything, your timeline with him, having a crush on him for the longest time regardless that he made your life hard, it only felt right to drag this out as much as possible. 

Your eyes fluttered open, empty lidded shooting daggers at him. Appraisal came to your mind when his daggers were returned, gaze still very much fixated on you, with Felix, making out with another man right in front of him. His blood was searing, reaching boiling point at a very rapid rate. He knew you were a lot of things. Sarcastic, blunt, ‘indifferent’ towards him as you got older, or so he thought. But he didn’t take you to be a tease. He was reaching the point of no return, and if you didn’t stop this act, this play scene just for him, he was going to do something he regretted.

“Hmm fuck,” Felix grumbled, pulling away from you, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good kisser?”

Your eyes flickered back to the man on top of you, quickly averting your gaze to avoid any deflections from Minho, Chan, or any of the others there that you knew.

“Hey man, what are you doing?”

You sat up immediately, looking up to see Minho’s friend, Jisung, standing over you. His tone was playful, but the adrenaline was kicking in. The several times you met Minho’s friends, they were decent enough to be nice to your face. Anytime you went over, you could hear them. Talking about how you look, always asking Minho about you. Just them teasing him about you. Maybe it was the reason as to why he had so much disdain for you. They were also protective, very protective of him, and probably the reason why they were standing over you right now.

“Oh hey man, you’re not her boyfriend are you?”

“Who, me?” Jisung laughed, hard, almost hysterically, bringing a hand to his chest to calm himself down, “no no, not me, but the guy over there might be a little mad that you’re making out with his girl.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing onto Felix’s arm, other hand tucking under his chin as you pressed another haste kiss to his lips. You gave Minho one more look, noticing his fists turned inwards, hard shaped as he watched your interactions with the new guy accelerating.

“Good,” He smirked, standing up, and reaching a hand out to you as an invitation, “Did you want to hang out in my room? It’s just down the hall.”

“Sure,” you replied bluntly as you took his invitation. You allowed Felix to guide you, taking one last look at Jisung. Before making your way, you were interrupted one more time. It made you scoff when Minho grabbed your wrist, finally able to do something himself, not his friends doing it for him.

“Y/n?”

“What do you want?”

“Where are you going?”

“What do you think?”

With a heavy grip, attempting to shake yourself out of his grip. There was no way you were giving up on this act yet.

“You just met the guy tonight?”

“Okay and? It’s not like that ever stopped you before. At least I’m not at home, forcing everyone else to hear you late at night.”

He looked down, knowing he had been beaten to the punch. You resisted once more, able to come out of his grip as you looked up and down at him once more, “Stop acting like you give a shit what I do.”

You watched him open his mouth, but missed out on whatever he was going to say. You laughed to yourself, the swift motion of the man from the other side, Felix, the one who was giving you the attention you needed right now. Without a word, he closed the door behind you, spare hand placed on your lower back as he lead you to what seemed to be his bed.You sat down first, Felix making quick work as he stood over you once more, index finger stuck on your shoulder as he effortlessly as he ‘pushed’ you over, torso hovering on top of yours, just like he did previously. You had to give it to him. This Felix guy was smooth. The way he looked down at you, raking your body with every single eye nerve, the gentle twitch when he noticed extra skin showing on your body for a slight moment. He definitely was contributing to your uprising arousal, but the thing that really turned you on was the mere possibility of Minho hearing this. Having his ear up to the door, curious to see what you would really do.

“Hey,” Felix whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, taking you out of your thoughts completely, “everything okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, where were we?”

You brought a hand to his arm, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion as his own came back to your chin, pinching it forward, lips doting to reconnect with his. His lips were smooth, not a crack or dry spot in sight or in feeling. The kiss was a lot more connected, a lot more teamwork and passion. His tongue lazily slipped inside of your mouth, picking up with much brute and force as his hips charged, recreating the prior friction against your core. Felix had one hand on the side of your jaw, the one on your chin snaking around and cascading down, in between your cleavage, past your navel, brimming on the edge of your undergarment line. You gasped, immediately, not expecting things to move so quickly. A stifled whimper escaped your lips, enjoying the friction his fingers created around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh,” you groaned, slightly high pitched and confused at first, but once his fingers dived past your dress, underneath your core, right in the center of your sweet spot, you groaned again, a deeper, more gratifying noise bellowing in response.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, looking up at him, “feels so good already.”

Your hand felt dizzy again, a lightheaded texture adding. You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or the alcohol speaking, but it most likely was the loud bang that came from the east part of the room. You jumped immediately, bumping heads with Felix as you quickly covered yourself, given no time to fix your hair as you were being dragged out, Minho’s jaw clenched as he walked you out.

“Sorry, uh Felix, it was nice to meet you,” you yelled down the hallway, pushed all the way to the front door.

“Minho what the fuck?”

“Shut up and get in the car,” he growled, not putting up with any nonsense that you were about to spew at him, “Jisung’s taking us all home, your friends included.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you scoffed, the digging of his fingers becoming slightly painful. You opened the door, seeing Hyunjin’s smirk as soon as he saw you, hand in hand with Minho. He never had to say anything, he always knew how you felt about him, even when it wasn’t clear to you. 

The midnight breeze was very apparent, hitting you like a truck. The goosebumps on your skin raised in an instant, shiver running down your spine as you walked. Minho let go of your wrist, removing his jump over his head, and plopping it on top of yours. You wanted to turn, scream at him for ruining your hair, not even thinking about your makeup. But honestly, you were just tired. It was late. 

***

You pushed the button down in the backseat, letting the cool breeze smack you across the face as Jisung drove down the highway. It felt nice, distracting you from the imminent pressing of your best friend’s brother inconveniently pressing up against you, too big for the middle seat. Of course he had to sit next to you. Invade your personal space, your privacy. He was still overprotective of you, even when you were by yourselves. It was annoying, and you really didn’t know why he was always like this with you after the needless torture that was gorwing up with him around. 

You decided to put the window up, a sudden drowsiness coming over you as you leaned your head against the window. Your eyes were fluttering, half lidded when you felt someone whispering, right up to your ear. His lips were cold, roughly but incidentally lingering on your lobe.

“Y/n,” Minho hushed, patting your arm lightly, “y/n, baby.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows, “what is it?”

“We’re here, wake up.”

“Oh,” you sighed, releasing your weight on the window. Your eyes opened, turning from the window, which was a big mistake. You caught yourself, inches away from your face. Apart from the club, it was the closest you had been ever to him. You saw him, looking down at your lips, causing you to gulp loudly. You wanted to lean in, push away all the doubt you had in your mind, and follow your heart. To have him on your lips, around your body, caressing every crevice, every curve. It was something you had fantasized about in your head several times, whether you wanted to or not. Your hand flew to his chest, truly speechless and unsure what to say.

“Minho. I-”

He licked his lips, fingers latching onto your jaw, thumb against the subtlety of your lips. He flipped, lip bouncing back as he leaned even closer. His breath had never felt so imminent, not even the first time the two of you had shared a kiss.

***

“Did you need help?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, about to lose balance on the stool. The tea bags were high in the cupboard, and you weren’t the tallest person going around. Minho put his arms out, helping you adjust yourself before stepping down and back onto the ground.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “you know me, never able to reach anything.”

“It’s okay, they’re stored pretty high up.”

Without giving you time to move, he reached over, torso pressed against your chest, half of his body weight leaning on you as he reached up to grab one for you. Your face rose in heat as he placed it on the bench behind you, keeping firm in his position.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still not moving, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, uhm no, it’s okay” you mumbled back, pushing the hair behind your ear. He beat you to the other side, lifting his fingers, watching how delicately the fibers of your hair curved along your ear lobe. 

Faces inching closer, it felt like do or die, but you would rather get hit by a truck than make the first move. Minho was the type to flirt, hard. He knew he could get anyone he wanted. College really changed him. For the better though, even if it meant he became a mass fuckboy.

“You have a really, uhm, beautiful face.”

He had become nervous all of a sudden, and you couldn’t help but smile. Smile at both his nerves and slight awkwardness, as well as his proximity. 

“Uhm thanks,” you mumbled again, scared that if you attempted to speak at a normal volume, it would squeak, “you have a nice face as well.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, piercing eyes boring into yours.

“Make me.”

He hesitated for a brief moment, before bringing both hands to your face, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft at first, a series of gentle pecks you wrapped your hand palms around his neck, keeping him close. His body felt good, right when close to you.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up however, Minho’s tongue begging for access as you gave it to him willfully, a gentle hum as he simultaneously rolled his hips into yours once. A soft groan escaped your lips, causing him to pull away. The smirk on his face was priceless; you knew he was satisfied with himself. His hands snaked down to your waist, lifting you up and placing you on the kitchen bench. Minho nudged your leg with his left knee, spreading them wide, allowing himself to fit into the curve. He kept his digits across your fingertips, gently tapping as he leaned back in, skipping the innocent kisses and heading straight to a heavy, heavy makeout. The noises erupting were increasing in quantity, and it wasn’t until you heard footsteps running down the steps were you snapped back into reality. Hands on his chest, you pushed him off quickly, pushing your hair back in front of your face.

“Y/n what’s taking you so long?”

“Oh uhm, I was just trying to reach the teabags.”

“Yeah,” Minho joined in, helping you cover your ass, “I just grabbed it for her, seeing as she was already in my way to get to the glasses, annoying ass.”

“Okay whatever weirdo,” she replied to him, “stop annoying Y/n.”

***

The memory of the flashback playing in spurts, ones that your intoxicated mind was probably failing to accurately recall the event. It was, however, enough for you to pull away. Saying nothing, you turned away, opening the car door, semi-stumbling onto the ground as you jumped out the car, heading towards his front door. Luckily your best friend was out of town, away on a camping weekend with her boyfriend and her parents, because if she heard you walking in with Minho, it was game over.

“Y/n,” he whispered, tone harsh like he wanted to yell, “y/n.”

It was nothing but a faint noise in the distance. You stood there, in front of the door, impatiently waiting for it to be unlocked. It wasn’t until you could feel him. He grabbed your wrist, almost having to yank you back to stop you.

“What,” you whispered back, similar in tone, “what do you want?”

He waited. It looked like he was trying to put a thought together, knowing that he needed to say something very important. It could make or break: everything. He took a step closer, that familiar feeling of adrenaline, no, some other feeling that you couldn’t describe. Made your heart race, body sweat. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. All you knew was that it only happened when he was around you.

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, adoration at how gentle his skin glowed in the moonlight. Fuck, this was annoying. Why did he have to be so hot? It would have been the easy way out to forgive him and let him do what you craved, yearned for. But it was simply too much to do so. This man had been toying with your heart for a long time. Whether he had a crush on you for the lingering amount of time that you had, you deserved better than someone who played with you for their own amusement.

“What are you sorry for?”

Your tone was calm, yet still firmly questioning him. It was easier to just deny the night events than argue about it.

***

The music was loud, deafening as Minho, dragging you by the delicacy of your poor wrist, locked in a spot right next to the speaker right beside the DJ of the club, aka pole position. At first the dancing was innocent, a bright smile of pure joy (and intoxication) plastered across your face, holding each other’s hands as you pushed and pulled them back and forth. It wasn’t until the motions of arms were not moving in the opposite directions, somehow were both pulling in his direction, right up against his waist. The music was much too loud to allow your rational cognitions to process the sequence of events. Facing him, not facing him. Appropriate distance, very much appreciate distance. It was hard to explain how you ended up with your back pressed against Minho’s chest, somehow in the monstrosity of alcoholic beverages and shots actually moving your hips in a synchronized way with his. Maybe it was the firm grip, thumb digging into the soft flesh that was hardly hidden under that dress, making sure that this was the only place you needed to be, that he wanted you to be. 

Your hands easily followed too, palms on top of this tendon illuminating the side of his hands as his lips rested on the outside of the cartilage that made up your ear. The second time you could feel the magic that was his lips. The crowd that was Minho’s friends and the new, yet very much fun strangers that would end up making the later house party were long gone at this very moment. The only thing you could remember was coming with Minho, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave with him.

“Mmmm,” was all that could be heard, well no, felt from the man behind you. The vibrations of his lips were the only indicator that he was trying to say something. His teeth soon followed. Gentle, almost kitten-like nibbles nipped at the heated flesh of the neck and shoulder, head falling limp against his own shoulder as he continued to chuckle inbetween. There seemed to be an innocence to his antics, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. Yet knowing the downright filthy desires, things he wanted to do, for a numerous amount of time was very much ironic.

Turning around, you pulled away, eyes boring into yours and his face came closer and closer. Eyes fluttering shut like a butterfly's wings for a brief moment, desire had never been stronger.

“There he is, Jisung!”

And just like that, it was over. Reality came back and your Minho clouded fog dissipated in a matter of moments, and it must have for him. You had never seen someone take their hands of someone with such speed. The timely reaction of Minho brought you back to a realistic part of your life. The one where this was nothing but a dream, and Minho was once again out of reach, and the many barriers that were his friends, your friend being in the way, made you nothing but a pawn in his chess game.

***

You stood there in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the ringing in your ears from the loud music prior. The want for him to explain himself was one of such desperation. A sign, anything at this point. Yes, you were very much exhausted from the games but if it was all worth it for him to finally do something about it in the end, the fatigue would be easily wiped away.

“I don’t mean to be this way. So, uhm, aggressive? Or the opposite, I don’t know I-”

“Minho in the nicest way possible, I’m tired and we’ve both had a big night. We can talk about it in the morning.”

Using the spare key that your friend had so graciously given you as a symbol of how much time you truly spent at her house, his house, over the years, the door was unlocked, you ripping your shoes off and letting them laz sprawl against the living room carpet as your body heavily dragged up the stairs. Your feet automatically knew the way to her room, 4 paces straight and two to the left. To get to his it was 7 paces straight 2 to the right. The 4th step on the second floor felt unnatural at this moment, body wanting nothing more than to be pressed up against him in a deep slumber, you craved it; but you knew better at the same time.

“Y/n.”

Silence. You could feel him coming closer, but it’s honestly just too painful at this point to even wait for anything more.

“Y/n.”

Silence, again. It wasn’t until you could feel the unintentionally harsh pull at your wrist, once again pulling back and up against him.

“Y/n wait.”

“For fucks sake Minho,” you huffed, yanking your arm away from his grip, “leave me alone.”

“No, I want to talk about it now.”

Nothing but an eye roll followed, ignoring him and storming into her room. He followed in pursuit, the first time any kind of behavior like this from Minho had happened before. Sitting on the edge of the side of her bed, you turned away as you took off your jewelry, precious earring and delicate chain necklace lying on this decorative plate placed on the bedside table.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Can we please stop pretending like there isn’t something going on between us?”

He was not serious. His bold statement made you stop, turn around and face him.

“You have to be joking right now.”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Minho” you yelled, standing back up and right in front of him, “this is nothing but a fucking game to you! We don't have a problem, YOU do.”

“I don’t play games with you,” Minho scoffed, eyes wide in his own disbelief, “you play games with me.” His voice was also beginning to rise in volume.

“That’s such a fucking lie! You’ve been playing games with me for years. Three quarters of my life! I know that you hated me or couldn’t stand me for most of that but then all of a sudden you come back from college and you want to be around me and all over me?”

“That’s not true-”

“Yes it is! You couldn’t stand me!! Then the kiss in the kitchen? Tonight, you were all over me and I could tell, drunk or sober, that you were enjoying yourself. Until your friends come along and I’m nothing but a secret little game-”

“No Y/n, shut up, that's not true!”

“Explain yourself then!” 

Both of your chests were heaving simultaneously, the heated exchange taking the breath out of the two of you. There was no part of you that was wrong, and you knew better than to lack confidence, especially to someone who has kicked you around for what felt like your whole life.

“I never hated you,” he whispered, once again shifting the tense atmosphere in the room. He took a step closer, that goddamn palm resting on your cheek, fingertips pushing the baby hairs sticking to your forehead as you took him in, listening deeply to his words, “I could never hate somebody like you, Y/n.”

His tonality had become the softest you had ever heard someone speak. It was empowering to keep him on his toes, gaze fixated on him, but lips refusing to move. You could see it. The dip in his own gaze below your eye line, past the tip of your nose, and right to where you wanted his lips to be: your lips. The right thing, like your previous thoughts, was to pull away, save yourself the heartbreak.

“Let me take the time to show you how false that statement really is.” 

But god, was it it easier to just give him. His approach was gentle, but the texture of his lips felt like the key to everything. The light weight of his lips were equivalent to a tuft of feathers falling from a clear sky. Your lips tussled in return, wanting to kiss the man you were in love with so much passion, yet so much reservation. His lips, unlike the first time, had so much admiration for you, somehow the feeling was communicated in the way his lips touched yours, the way his tongue slipped into your mouth, colliding with your own. The world stopped spinning, and the only thing that mattered was Minho’s lingering touch.

His hands scrambled to find an appropriate spot. His palms spread across your waist, the pressure of his weight pushing you to the edge of the bed, a small shriek escaping your lips as the sudden knock of balance leaves you lying against the material of the bed. His hands left your sides, one coming to your face as he broke away, taking a moment to admire you underneath him in all your beauty. He lifted his fingers to your forehead, brushing the baby hairs on your skin before smiling and leaning back in for another kiss. Hands around his neck, you brought him closer, gasping into his mouth when you felt the roughness of his knee conveniently sitting between your inner thigh, spreading to make room for his own. 

You decided to take the liberty of breaking the kiss back this time, Minho rising on his own as he pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. Even the way he moved his limbs was majestic. Eyes widening for a brief moment as the shock of Minho’s body that you had seen many times, especially post-college transformation, it still amazed you how attractive this man was. The proximity all these years amounting to this moment. All the teasing, ignoring, negative behavior came as the collateral of coming to this moment; and you would tolerate all of it again if this what it would lead to. Which is why you refused to rush things, savor the moment as much as you could.

“Minho, wait.”

“Yes?”

“Can we just,” you were hesitant to ask for what felt like a silly request, “I don’t want to rush anything. Can we just make out a little longer?”

His chuckle was one of the most adored. He nodded as he got up from the bed, sitting back down at the edge of the right side. As he turned to put his leg atop of the bed, he leant on his left elbow, patting the empty spot next to him, a very adorable invitation that you simply could not resist. You shooed over, facing Minho as he pinched your chin, bringing your lips to his again. The kisses, for the moment, stayed soft, sweet. He was allowing you to take your time because he was ready. Minho wanted you so bad, but he knew better than to rush. If anything, the anticipation made him fall for you more.

However, the heat was unconsciously beginning to turn up once bodies became involved. The subtle grind of his hips against yours was sending you into a frenzy, and the friction was something you needed to chase. At first you were holding back, only wanting the generosity of his tongue and lips, but now the selfish part of you was taking over, and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have sweet passionate sex with the man in front of you. Gently pushing his chest away, he looked up, confused as you turned away from him, standing up and undoing the zip on the back of your dress.

“Oh,” was all he could say, a smirk plastered on his face as he dragged your body back toward him, now covered in undergarments, back to the bed. His hands became a lot more adventurous, taking the signal of you undressing yourself as an acceleration of what you wanted. Still facing each other, Minho placed a gentle peck to your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you much closer to him, and exactly where you wanted to be. 

Once the lack of space was established, Minho brought the tip of his digits just above your panty line. A small gasp elicited from your lips once his fingers dipped down to your clothing covering your core. Just above the center of the folds. Minho’s lips quiver at your body relaxing underneath his touch. The more vulnerable you became, the more in love he fell with you. Each second. Your eyes fluttering almost shut, hips gently bucking underneath the pressure of his fingers had his mind screaming with adoration. His gaze was making you shy, causing you to bury your head in his naked chest. You giggled with innocence at how good his fingers felt. The other times you reminisced, romanticized what this would be like was tenfold of what you actually expected. 

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered, a soft kiss to the tip of your forehead. Your head came out of his chest, a somewhat fucked out expression already coatign your face as his fingers traveled back to the top of your panties, fingers grasping the hem before asking, “Can I take this off?”

You nodded, this time without hesitance as you turned to your front, assisting Minho in letting the thin fabric subtracted from your body. Your bra soon followed, leaving you completely exposed. Minho still had his pants on which you felt to be a little unfair, but the tent that was beginning to form in his pants was a reason enough for him to keep them on longer. 

Turning back to your side, you reached him in another sensual kiss, bodies now as close as they had even been. Minho’s fingers had much more to travel, left palm already reaching for a gentle squeeze of your best breast. His touch was noticeable enough to break away, a small groan at the digits brushing your nipple. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he watched your nipples get harder under his touch.

“Wow,” Minho gasped, gently pinching the soft flesh his eyes couldn’t help but be glued to, “you look amazing.”

“Do I?”

“More than I could have ever  imagined.”

Your silence made him giggle, fingers snaking back down to where the two of you wanted them to be. It was almost embarrassing how easily his index and middle finger slipped between your folds, already coated in your arousal as his digits swirled around your pussy hole. It was evident that he wanted his fingers coated, so when he brought them up to his lips, tongue evidently out as he licked them clean, then slid them back down to your waist once more, spreading your folds apart and pushing on your clit like a button. Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders for support, the sudden amount of sensation in comparison to before sending you into a frenzy. Your jaw had already become slick, the gentle whines and moans spilling out sound after sound. 

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath, lips right in front of your tits, teeth grazing over the geneoristy of the skin, “you have the features of an angel.”

His shower of compliments caused a louder moan to slip from your lips. It really wasn’t something that you expected. The fantasy you had of Minho being a rough, man handling lover contrasted to the man that presented in front of you right now. But it was much better than anything you ever thought he was to be.

His fingers moved in delicate circular motions, Minho himself groaning at how pretty you looked under his fingers. He kept his curiosity peaked, fingers traveling back down to your hole before plunging them inside, tips instantly curling to bring his lips right up against his own.

“Minho oh my god,” you gasped, short breaths hinting at a rapid pace from your throat as he started to move them back and forth, “your fingers are so good.”

“Your welcome,” he smiled, wrapping his free arm around your chest to adjust for the way your torso squirmed against him. Your own hands soothing his arm that did all the work as he picked up his pace, a slight bump forming into your pussy. Minho’s pace became quickly unforgiven, a spill of curse words that made you feel extremely dirty coming from your mouth. The irony of feeling dirty from cussing and not from the two fingers being shoved into your whole was comedic. 

“Lift it,” Minho grunted, attempting to fix his position so he could get a better angle to finger you from, “lift your leg and put it on my hip.”

You did as he said, a gut wrenching moan that was bubbling in your throat bursting at the seams as your maneuver allowed his finger to enter deeper, stronger, harder. The combination of skin slapping and wetness could be heard by anyone in the house if there was anyone in there, the noise echoing the room as you watch his eyebrows furrow, bitten bottom lip in concentration. All this time, Minho wanted nothing more than to see you be happy, make you feel good. It was in half disbelief that he was present in this moment that he had dreamed of several times. And his perception of you, with his fingers inside of you, moaning his name over and over exceeded expectations to say the least. The temperature that began to rise on your cheeks was spreading to your limbs, muscles slowly coiling as the pleasure continued to build at your core. Minho’s jaw clenched, increasing his effort and strength in, with much effort, fucking you with his fingers. His pace became even quicker, desperate and motivated to make you shake under his fingers.

“Minho please,” you cried, suffocating his lips with yours to muffle the continuous noise that baffled the room, “so good.”

Your sentences, if you could even call them that, were not coherent in the slightest. Yet it did not matter. All Minho could focus on was how beautiful you looked with your lips pouted, the gentle teeth marks under your bottom lip from biting down on your precious skin too hard. The condensation beginning to cover the skin of your forehead as your eyebrows scrunched together, your facial expression could have been interpreted as anger. However, Minho failed to see it that way. He saw you as nothing but an angelic woman that he had the gratitude of being allowed to share a moment of vulnerability with. There was no judgment in his eyes as he felt your tight pussy clench around his knuckles, knowing how close to what you were, and what he wanted to achieve for your sake.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispered, wiping the moisture glistening on the nose, half of your face shimmering in the moonlight as he withdrew his fingers, rubbing the sensual juices all over your swollen clit as your legs began to shake in response to the overwhelming stimulation you were experiencing.

“Can you feel it?”

“Mhhm,” you whined, suppressing your lips together as you focused on him, analyzing to him the intricate details of your body. His lips moved with vigor, leaving a string of semi wet kisses along your shoulder, kissing every little skin contusion, beauty mark, scab, wrinkle, dimple. You name it, Minho was eager to use his lips to analyze you, analyze the way your skin felt against him. The idea increased your arousal to a level you thought would not be possible.

“I’m gonna cum Minho I-”

“It’s okay baby,” Minho hushed you, wanting to relive any pressures or expectations you may think you need to fulfill “even the way you speak such vulgar things is angelic to me.”

“I’m cumming,” was all you could cry out. You know that once this was over, you would be appreciative of how gentle and warm his presence was to you during this unguarded moment, but right now all you could focus on was the tight coil in the pit of your stomach that would give out at any second. Like your foreshadowed, your body was coming undone under him, Minho unable to give up the succulent ability that was your pussy as he reinserted his two fingers back into your hole, thumb almost ghosting over your clit in an attempt to not overwhelm your body in sensation.

Minho thought you couldn’t get any more fascinating. Even the way you orgasmed was angelic. Legs spread wide open as you let him have his way. The trust you developed in him in this intricate moment was such an attraction but mainly an appreciation. He knew that he had not been the most trustworthy person to you. His mixed signals and just overall treatment of you was simply a mind of confusion.

On the contrary, every negative moment that you shared with him melted away. The part of him having his fingers inside of you, bringing you to climax was not what you were focused on. You were focused on the attention. Solely the attention, his words held so much more weight than his actions to you in this moment, and all he did was mumble sweet nothings, adoring every single part of you that you wanted Minho to love.

“Fuck baby,” Minho groaned, finally withdrawing his fingers entirely from your core as he palmed his own arousal. But he merely wasted any time on that as he stood up and discarded his pants in an instant. A half lidded gasp came from your throat as you watched his length spring free from the suffocation of his previous undergarments. Minho laid back on the bed, back against the bed as you extended a hand in which you willingly took, enjoying the sudden rapture that Minho had tangled the two of you in. His fingertips came to your face once more, brushing those delicate strands away as he took his precious time. Willingly ignoring the fact that your very slicked up pussy was creating friction against his tip, he was more focused on your face. The crinkles underneath your eyes that came up when you smiled. The way your lips turned upwards in the slightest. The longer he looked up at you, on his lips, body pressed up against his, the more he fell in love. Both of your hands now came to his face. It felt like hours upon hours that the two of you had been looking at each other. Calmness fell over the room as you leant down to kiss him again. The taste of him was simply nor enough. You needed him. On you, next to you; it did not matter. His presence was something that you truly craved. Sexually, platonically, romantically, it did not matter. Any closeness with Minho was more than adequate. Deciding to lift your hips slightly, your hands followed, gripping him as you slowly slid onto him, a deep groan leaving his lips, a soft moan leaving yours as he stretched you out. Before you could even initiate any moment, Minho grabbed your arm lifting your palm to his face as he sent kisses up your arm, almost as if he was in complete disbelief of what was happening in this moment.

“I just want to worship you my god,” he whispered, making you giggle in the slightest.

His lips traveled just under your shoulder, arms wrapping around his torso to bring you into another embrace. It was that his strength was brute enough to lift you up, and put your back down. Hisbody almost moved with vigor, wanting to make sure the experience was an equal one. A sharp whine came from you as he established a gentle pace, your whole body being used in an attempt to pleasure the both of you. Someone may have seen this as selfish, Minho controlling the pace, but really, he just couldn’t get enough of how much he wanted you. The amount of times he had thought about this moment over the years almost derailed him. But nothing could be more perfect than the moment right now. 

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, then on his chest, across his face, you were too stimulated to be organized with your hand placements. It’s just what he did to you. Minho could tell that you were unsure, so instead he just put his head in your chest, almost wanting you to wrap your fingers though the bse of his scalp, the gentle texture of your fingers against his scalp could have honestly made his toes curl. Just like you, Minho craved your touch in any way shape or form, so the combined combainton of your closeness, tussling digits, and tight pussy was sending him into a headspin.

“Minho,” you hesitated, unsure, if he could hear you in the muffle of your chest, “Minho.”

You were desperate for him to hear you, yanking on his locks to pull him away from the darkness and back into your gaze. His eyes were glazed over for a moment, an innocent peaking on them as he looked up at you with intent.

“Yes my princess, my Y/n?”

“Yours?”

The skin slapping, volume of each time your ass landed on his hips was increasing, but no matter the crescendo, it was never loud enough to get in the way of the intimate looks the two of you had a silent agreement to fixate on.

“Mine,” he moaned, hands snaking back down to your hips, breaking this distance and once again guiding the speed of how fast he filled you up, “all mine.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” you mumbled, barely able to talk at this point, “I want you so bad you have no idea.”

“You have me,” he almost chanted, “you have me. I have you. Always.”

Your head rolled back, the intimacy of his words, rather than his cock, bringing you closer to the brink of pleasure. The attractiveness of finally putting his walls down, striking his fear of vulnerability was unmatchable. Even if things didn’t work out with Minho in the future, you knew that deep down, no one else could ever make you feel this way. Minho was a witch, and the spell he was casting on you was something that would be everlasting.

“I love you,” you cried, throwing your head back in somewhat embarrassment, “I love you Minho.”

“I love you too baby fuck,” he grunted, increasing the strength in which he filled your pussy. He couldn’t handle this anymore. Flipping you over, his body hovered, cock pressing your back into the mattress. On his knees, Minho trusted deeper and deeper, your eyes almost cloudy from how good he truly felt inside of you. Another sensuous kiss ensured, the combination of his deep moans and your vibrating whines slipped into each other 's, easily one of the most intimate things that could ever be done. 

“Mhhm,: You whined, breaking away and placing a hand on his face, “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, my Y/n.”

“Oh god,” you breathe heavily, free hand gripping on his shoulder, “I love when you call me that?”

“What? My Y/n?”

“Yes,” you hissed, piercing into his eyes, this time with vigor, “it makes me yearn for you.”

“You have me baby,” he smirked, eyebrows soon furrowing as he realized his hips were getting sloppy in motion, “I’m all yours.”

You could not stop kissing him. He was just too hard to resist. His words, actions, everything, you were so in love that your chest began to hurt. That pit was developing again, and all he had to do was say the words and you were there. Minho took your hand away from his face, pinning them on either side of you as he slid his fingers in between, allowing your hand to intertwine with yours. The affection was the icing on your cake, because as you felt the swirls of his finger prints trickle onto your palm, your hips were spasming.

“Minho I’m-”

“I know baby, it’s okay, he cooed, “I can feel your pussy clenching hard.”

A little giggle escaped your lips as your body raked itself of an orgasm. Back arching, the loudest noise you could have possibly made erupted from your mouth, the unintentionally new angle allowing Minho to plunge even deeper, keeping it slow as he allowed you to come down from the high. He pulled out right after, pumping himself a few times before finishing just above your core. He fell to your side, immediately lifting your body, wanting to feel that constant warmth as he placed your head against his chest, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the mount of hair in front of his face. His heartbeat was warm, fast, but stil, a sense of comfort felt over your body as you listened to the organ pump in his chest. The moment was silent, yet comfortable, the both of you simultaneously soaking in that delicacy of affection that you both oh so craved, longed for.

Even after all of that, you still had the energy to do so. Minho read your mind, giving you a quick peck before quickly pacing out of the room. The ache in your heart had already reappeared at his absence. The craving would never stop. Luckily he was quick, grabbing a paper towel, cleaning you up, running back to the bin, the running back and jumping onto the bed, your body flying in the air as he caught you, snuggling up to your side with his head pressed into your chest. Your hand came to his hair, letting those fingertips frolic across his scalp. A silence fell over the room as the two of you simultaneously stared at the ceiling, the dim shine of the moonlight shining through the window, lingering across Minho’s side profile.

“I was being serious, you know.”

“About what?”

“Hating you.”

Minho turned onto his chest, wanting to make sure that you were staring at him when he said this.

“I could never hate you Y/N, my Y/N.”

He crawled up to your side, tall enough to press one more kiss, lips lingering across yours as your eyes fluttered shut from his touch. Lifting the cover, Minho invites you under after climbing in first, turning to the side to hover over your now very tired frame. Lips nudged behind your warm Minho kept mumbling, a combination of kissing you and whispering, the tiny vibrations from his voice tickling the bare skin.

“You’ll have to kill more before I ever let you go.”

[victoria-grimesss]

locked on target

masterlist

->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation. 

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground. 

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck. 

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained. 

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more. 

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them. 

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?” 

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good. 

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?” 

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation. 

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight. 

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?” 

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.” 

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?” 

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?” 

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost  lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair, 

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?” 

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?” 

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.” 

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent. 

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla. 

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?” 

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

 You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.” 

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time. 

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.” 

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer, 

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

blind date l Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Summary:  you were supposed to spend a quiet evening, but someone sat down at your table

Warnings:  just fluff, some kissing, a little bit of alcohol, misunderstanding

A/N: aaaaaahhhhh, I know I shouldn't do this! this platform is full of beautiful stories about Frankie, but I had one thought in my head and I had to do something with it since I had some free time. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

You were never a big fan of your birthday. When you read about the "birthday blues" somewhere a while ago, you were already sure that it was all about you. Going out with friends, loud parties and drinking until dawn - that wasn't your thing. This time, you decided to do it all differently.

You put on a nice dress, the one that made you feel really good and pretty. You put on light makeup and used your favorite perfume. All of that just to go alone to one of the local bars, order a drink and spend this time in your own company. And everything was going well until a certain moment.

You were just browsing the late-night repertoire at the nearby cinema on your phone when someone unexpectedly sat down at your table. You looked up, a little surprised.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I have no excuse for that. Have you been waiting long?"

"I..." you couldn't get any more out of yourself, because the man glanced at your almost empty drink.

"I'll order you a new one. Wait a minute."

He stood up and walked over to the bar, and you tried to understand what had just happened. You looked back at this strange man. 

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a rather narrow waist. Curly hair peeked out from under his baseball cap. You were sure you definitely didn't know him, because you would have remembered those wonderful brown eyes.

After a moment, he returned to the table carrying a new drink for you and a beer for himself. He sat down and smiled uncertainly at you.

"So..." he began, then extended his hand to you, "I'm Frankie."

You shook his hand, giving him your name. You saw him frown for a moment, as if a thought had appeared in his head, but it quickly disappeared.

He rested his arms on the table, his shirt stretching pleasantly on his body.

"I never thought I'd be on a blind date." he mumbled, smiling "But that seems pretty nice. Especially when the company is so lovely."

"Don't worry, I didn't plan on taking part in something like that either." You replied, pleasantly flattered by his compliment. "But maybe we should just see where it takes us."

"Yeah, sure. So... How do you know Benny?"

What Benny? You didn't know any man by that name. But Frankie was faster than you again.

"You probably met after one of his fights." he stated, adjusting his cap. "Silly question, sorry. I haven't done this in a while."

"What do you mean?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink, the sweet cherry flavor filling your mouth.

"I didn't go on dates." Frankie rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You know. I've been working a lot lately."

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a pilot."

"Oh!"

"A helicopter pilot, I do assignments for different companies." he explained "I was in the military before. What about you?"

"I don't fly and I didn't fight." You replied and he laughed. His smile was really cute.

You told him what you did, and he - it was true - he really listened to you. He asked some simple and polite questions about your job, but he didn't try to let it dominate your conversation.

You felt comfortable and really good around Frankie, so when you finished your drinks and he suggested that you should go out and eat something, you gladly agreed.

You walked side by side through the quiet town, it was a warm and peaceful evening. The conversation revolved around topics that were safe for you, and you were more and more charmed by this man.

You didn't object when he put his hand on your back when you stopped at some takeaway. You even smiled a little embarrassed when the nice salesman asked Frankie:

"And what for your lady?"

"And what does my lady want?" he asked, winking at you.

You placed your order and soon you sat down outside to eat. You could feel Frankie's gaze on you almost the entire evening.

"Sorry, but this is the first time I've seen a girl that looks so hot eating takeout in a place like this." he laughed when you asked what was so funny to him.

"You're unfair!" you replied, holding back a laugh and aiming a fry at him. "I don't dress like this every day."

"So this is for me? Thank you."

You nervously bit the inside of your cheek. You felt a pang of guilt. Frankie was charming, funny and handsome, but he was supposed to meet someone else that night. Maybe you just deprived him of the opportunity to meet a really great woman?

Suddenly, his large, warm hand squeezed your knee and it brought you back to reality.

"C'mon, sweetie. I'd love to spend the whole night with you, but I have to drop you home." he said, smiling. "I have an early flight tomorrow."

"I can call a cab. You don't have to..."

"Please." His eyes were like those of a cute puppy. "Give me a few more minutes with you."

So you agreed. Frankie drove you home, his hand lazily stroking your knee. You liked that.

You wondered for a moment whether to tell him that you lived even further away, because the ride was really nice, but soon the car stopped in front of the building you lived in.

"We're here," he said. "Listen... It was a really nice evening. I understand if you didn't want to meet up with me again, but..."

"I had a great time too." you replied quickly, and seeing how his face lit up you added. "Maybe I'll give you my number? In case you want to meet up again, or... talk?"

"Yeah, sure!"

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and you quickly typed in your number. There was nothing left.

"I think I'll go now. I wouldn't want you to oversleep at work because of me."

"I wouldn't mind, but I guess you're right."

You had already opened the door and was about to get out when a thought crossed your mind. If you had been going with the flow all evening, why would you stop now? 

You saw a small surprise in Frankie's eyes, but after a moment he smiled when you moved closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek. You felt his stubble tickle your skin. 

And then you kissed him. Just like that. Frankie kissed you back, sliding one hand into your hair and the other squeezing your waist. He pulled you even closer, sliding his tongue between your lips.

He was a gentle kisser, or at least that was the first impression he gave. His lips were soft and lightly returned the next kisses. You smiled as you moved away from him.

"Good night, Frankie." You whispered and quickly got out of the car.

Frankie [04:56] Morning. I hope I don't wake you up, but I thought you'd like to see this.

You looked at the message and smiled at the picture of the sunrise he sent you.

Y/N [06:38] Beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me.

Frankie [06:41] I couldn't stop doing this. I'd love to see you again soon.

Y/N [06:44] Good, because I'd like that too ;)

Benny [07:21] Catfish, you idiot!

He showed up at your door in the evening when you were already considering taking a bath and going to bed. When you opened the door, you knew immediately that something was wrong.

"Hi. I wasn't expecting you." you greeted, but he just nodded nervously.

"Can we... Can we talk?" he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, sure. Come in."

He walked inside and looked around your place. It was cozy and nice, with a big couch perfect for relaxing.

"Listen..." he started as you approached him "I don't know how to say this."

"Just say it, Frankie." you saw he was struggling with something.

He nodded shifting from foot to foot.

"I talked to Benny today."

"Oh." you already knew what he was getting at.

"It's funny, you know. It turns out that yesterday... Fuck! I'm sorry. When I walked into that bar and I saw you, you were so pretty and so lost in your thoughts that I thought maybe I was finally lucky. I didn't think you were waiting for someone else..."

"Frankie, I wasn't waiting for anyone." you replied nervously biting your lip "I had my birthday yesterday and I wanted to spend the evening somehow...differently. You showed up and I jumped on that train."

His dark eyes stared at you completely surprised. You would have given a lot to know what was going on in his head. So you decided to continue the conversation, giving him time to gather his thoughts.

"You surprised me, but you were so sweet and charming." You felt warmth creeping up your neck. "I knew right away that you were wrong, but... I don't know. I'm sorry! I should have said something. That girl was definitely waiting for you, and I thought I could spend a really nice evening with a nice guy. I'm so selfish! Say something, Frankie. Say you don't want to know me anymore and let's end this before I degrade myself even more."

His lips were slightly parted. Your legs were like cotton and you already regretted everything you had done, and even having this little pleasure for yourself.

"Wow." were the first words that fell from his lips "Jesus! I thought... When Benny told me that girl called me an asshole because I didn't show up, I didn't know what was going on. We spent the whole evening together, we kissed and then we texted..."

"I'm sorry..." you groaned, wrapping your arms around yourself "I should have said something..."

"That's not it, babe" he sighed "It's just... I wouldn't have approached you if I knew you weren't the one waiting for me. Because I immediately thought you were out of my league. And when we started talking I believed I was damn lucky. Such a beautiful, funny and sweet girl wanted to spend the evening with someone like me."

You felt your throat tighten painfully and tears welled up in your eyes.

"I've been thinking about it all day." Frankie walked up to you, his hands caressing your arms tenderly "Maybe I was lucky? You could have backed out at any moment, but..."

"I stayed." You finished for him "I really wanted to stay."

"That's good." He nodded, smiling "Because I wanted to take you out to dinner. Did you really have a birthday yesterday?"

"Yeah..."

His hands rested gently on your hips, squeezing them lightly every now and then. You could see that he was thinking deeply about something.

"I think we could celebrate a little today." He finally said "I know a really good place, I think you'll like it."

"You don't have to, Frankie."

"But I want to do it!" He laughed "I'm a lucky bastard, I'm going out to dinner with an amazing girl. Don't take that away from me now."

"Okay, I won't!" Now you laughed too. "Just give me a few minutes, I need to change."

You slid out of his arms, but didn't get far because his fingers tightened around yours. Before you could say anything Frankie walked up to you, his warm hand brushing your cheek and gently grabbing your chin.

"What are you doing?" you asked quietly, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I'm checking if I'm still lucky." he replied, his lips gently brushing yours, "And I think I am."

You shook your head in disbelief, but smiled. Everything would have to wait, both of you had to test his luck once more.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie! smut, oral sex Jungkook makes your squirt, public(?) sex, teasing, pet names; baby, love, bunny, good girl, princess. facesitting, fingering, i think that’s all!

w.c: aproxx 10.2k

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

you felt breathless as you stared at your ex, the one you’ve been trying to distance yourself away from for months because you have problems. yet, he keeps ending up in front of you looking like he was going to devour you from below. Jungkook would always treat you right, letting you tangle his hair or slap his arms and face when he teases you. he will do anything for you.



“friends? i mean, we could just talk occasionally but i really think you should sit right about now-”

at that, you leaned in, kissing him hard. you tilted your head to kiss him from a better angle, you cupped your favorite cheeks to pull and squish, gasping at the feeling of him wrapping his arms around your waist as you make out with him passionately. you practically whine when he pulls away to speak again, your lips chasing after his desperately.

“i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby, don’t you understand? you won’t regret being my friend,” you can hear in his tone that he’s playing with you, knowing you guys won’t ever be fine as friends, but you get to fuck this beautiful being below you, who you have hard as a rock below you just from kissing you.

“Jungkook- touch me!” you say, slightly rubbing yourself against his hard on, letting yourself take control as you grab the hair on the back of his head.

“sit on my face, princess, pretend its a pretty throne to get your juices on,”

the sight between your legs should be in a museum, specifically painted with oil pastels to really bring out the glossy shine of Jungkook’s sweaty forehead while he continues to eat you out from below. his hand held tightly around your thighs, not letting your go anywhere but on his tongue fucking deep in you and his nose rubbing your clit over and over again just how you like it. you wanted to scream, rip his hair out of his head between your fingers as you tug on it between every thrust of his tongue.

you grinded down on his tongue and nose, letting yourself feel and deserve everything his pretty mouth was giving you at night at the beach on a blanket from a random car Jungkook picked you up in after sneaking you out of your dorm. how did you get here? you thought as your legs started to tremble, Jungkook feeling your legs squeeze slightly against his head as he moans at the feeling of being squished by your juicy thighs.

“oh fuck!” you whined, throwing your head back as his slaps your tits slightly and his mouth leaves your heat. his face was covered in your juices when you looked down, a glossy smirk appeared on his face as his hands push your legs up and he pushes you back on your back in a smooth movement, “making me scream in the middle of the beach, huh? how fucking cheesy,” you growl, he spreads your legs open hard at your words. he shoves his body between your legs and forces them to hang off his shoulders.

“watch your tone, baby,” he warns, licking around his lips to taste you some more, you whimper at the sight of his swollen lips and his tongue that was just deep inside of you. “what do you want me to do to you, my love? i’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” he says lowly, leaning down into your ear as his hard on presses against your heat once again.

“fingers! use your fingers on me,” you moan out as Jungkook’s hands creep down to the sides of your thighs and squeezes them between his palm. one of his hands slides between your thighs and onto your heat. he doesn’t even bother to mention how wet you were, you feel the slick on your inner thighs. he begins to slide a finger in, curling it up and hitting your sweet spot before pulling back out and adding another.

he does this until 4 of his fingers are fucking into you, he whispers sweet nothings into you ears as you squirm underneath him. you gripped the back of his neck forcing him to come down to your lips, kissing you with passion and lust as he picks up his speed, ramming his finger deep into you in a quick speed.

“you love my fucking long fingers, don’t you? taking them like a good girl, baby. they fit your slutty hole perfectly,” he speaks against your lips, making you shiver as the warm bubbles appear in your stomach again, signaling your release, “you gonna come, baby? i can feel your insides gripping the shit out of my fingers, dirty girl,” he growls as his fingers reach places yours could never in you.

“Jungkook! baby- i can’t-”

“fucking take my fingers, sweetheart, you can fucking do it. come all over them, make me proud as always,” and that did it for you, you gasped for air as all your senses raised as everything tight you were holding released, letting your hips grind against his hand as he moans at the feeling of your insides clenching on his soaked fingers.

“such a dirty mouth,” you shiver in his arms, he holds you with his chin on your top of your head. he hums in agreement and you giggle in response, taking his tattooed hand into yours as your trace the letters on his knuckles.

“after this, we can do whatever you would like starting now on. if you want me, i’m here. if want me to comfort you, i’m here. if you want me away from you, i’ll distance myself. whatever you want, baby, i’m all yours,” Jungkook says, and you know he means it by the way he looks at you, trying to search your eyes to make sure you’re doing okay and understanding him. the things Jungkook will do for you, and only you.

“when will i see you again?” you duck your head into the car window to speak to Jungkook better as the night became morning quicker than expected, car horns can be heard all across the city. he bites his lip ring in thought, you wanted to roll your eyes because youu couldn’t tell if he was acting like he didn’t know his own schedule for the next week.

“you wanna see me that bad again, darling?” he lets go of his ring with a pop from his lips before his mouth curves into a smirk, knowing he has an affect on you. your face flushes, rolling your eyes to try dismissing the fact he made you all flustered, “i don’t think i’m busy this weekend, but maybe i’ll see you around, sweets. maybe i’ll come visit you during my free time,”

“maybe, and- um, thank you. thank you, Jungkook,”

“for what?” even you had to think about it, why were you thanking him? you bit your lip, slipping your head out from the rolled down window, and saying goodbye to Jungkook quickly before it gets any brighter out.

you obviously knew you were being confusing. first, you didn’t want anything to do with Jungkook. then, you have that talk with him. now, you just got home from getting two blissful orgasms taking out of you at a beach in the middle of the night by him. you wanted to process things but you just know you’ve gone too far and too distracted from you mission. your mission to stay away from Jungkook as much as you can.

usually, you would ask what to do after that; especially after he said he would willingly be anything to be around you, even being your friend; a friend that can fuck you, that is.

“i’m going to let things flow the way they should, if something happens it does,” you finish to your therapist, you couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or worried for you by the look on her face. either way, she sat up straight and began to talk.

“what do you want? Jungkook wants to be in your life, just even the slightest. he’s letting you go, ‘hey! back off, no more,’ or he’s letting you openly have sex with him as a ‘friend’,”

“maybe it’s not just about sex! we dated for awhile, it’s hard to let someone go like that,” you ponder, picking at the skin around your nails before your therapist reaches out for your hands.

she takes a deep breath, then speaks again, “the whole reason for no contact was for you to figure out yourself and let yourself heal before you help him with anything. being just friends is even a hard task because he’s still just Jungkook in your eyes. do you think your ready for any of this? i know it’s been 6 months but, are you sure your willing to bring down that wall you built up for yourself in the process of healing?” you now know why people say words can sting like knives, you didn’t even notice the tears prickling down your face until you felt the comfort of your therapists thumbs rubbing the back of your hands.

“i don’t know what i want, all i want is him. i only want Jungkook, there’s no one else for me. he knows me so well,”

“but does he? can he tell like i can tell that you aren’t sure you want this? i think, there’s way more than just Jungkook out there for you. he may have been a big part of your life, but feeling like you can’t handle yourself or your relationship is not worth it, i promise you,”

what does this mean for you? should you just go home and some how manage to contact you beloved ex that you can no longer do this after only a day of doing “this” because of your selfish reasons? but then again, is it really selfish?

no, it’s not. but maybe you’re going to fast.

a/n: ARGHH IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGGG😔 i’m so caught up in life and work and school and repeat. i’m trying to write again slowly, i have a couple drafts i wanna post in between episodes so maybe ill have my followers vote for what they want to see next! i love you all, thank you for being so sweet and patient💜

tags: @loumin908 @heartjiminnie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jksgirlfrl @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy @kookieandjoonberries @dna-black-and-blue @jk97bam

[arminsumi]

♡ 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : you and Suguru were too confused to realize that you liked each other back then, and now look at you two; short-lived romances litter your lives and drunk confessions dissolve the next day. It's all a mess. Add to that the fact that Suguru broke you and Satoru up behind the scenes; it's a drama written by the number one drama queens; Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : fem reader / Geto Suguru / Gojo Satoru / college au

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 🔞 Minors do not interact / 18+ / smut, plot, angst, miscommunication, mutual pining, breakups, Drama (with a capital D), alcohol/drunkenness, drunk s*x, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i found a drunk!suguru confession post in my drafts and rolled with it 🙈

playing it off. playing it cool. he's suguru geto. everyone likes him and he likes pretending like he's oblivious to that, but it makes his ego swell.

you think; oh every girl in my friend group likes him so why should i bother? he's going to overlook me. he's overlooking me right now.

he thinks; oh she's not into me. she must think she's too pretty for me. if i try to lure her in will she think i'm showing off? fuck it i don't care i'm showing off to her.

you think; oh he's a show-off but he does it so well. why do i have to like the ones who don't like me back?

he thinks; oh is she playing blind? or did she not see me at all. what do i have to do? make her jealous?

you think; oh he's got a girlfriend now? of course he does. yeah, of course he does... i feel sick.

he thinks; why is she looking at me so bitterly? am i fucking things up? maybe she used to like me back then.

you think; if he's dating someone, then i'm dating someone, too. i can't be alone and without him. this was manageable when he was single, not now.

*****

suguru geto comes up to you in the corridor with a confrontational tone of voice;

"why the fuck are you sleeping with my best friend?"

and he thinks you have some audacity to just shrug in response. he presses, but you avoid answering until he locks in on you in the corner of a classroom now, moving out of the corridor for some privacy. yes, much needed privacy.

"i'm gonna ask you again, nicely—"

"it's not really your business. i mean, i don't pry into your life, do i?"

your reply slaps him across the face and he just stays silent, then storms off.

*****

gojo satoru broke up with you a week after dating. figures. he was a playboy after all, and you knew it, so why are you crying?

"really, get it together. there is more to life than this nonsense. come on, get yourself out there again. buy yourself an expensive red dress. get your nails and hair and makeup done. and go strutting like the world is yours."

"... thanks mom." you reply in a sarcastic gurgle, eyes crusty from crying.

shoko is rubbing your feet, you're watching a soapie together because she claims it makes her feel better after dreadfully long shifts at the hospital.

"you know, i warned you about satoru, didn't i?"

"... yes, you did." you hang your head.

"why'd you chase after satoru then?" shoko asked seriously.

"dick."

"... be serious."

"... i really like suguru."

"oh. well. the plot thickens." shoko looks at the tv, then at you. "trying to go the roundabout way to meet him?"

"yeah. he's got a girl now, you know."

"... are you sure?" shoko looks at you suspiciously, "it sounds like you haven't stalked his socials in a hot minute..."

"what, why?" you perk your ears up like a bunny.

"uh, 'cause like... his "girl" just deleted all the pictures of him and her together and he did the same. sooo..."

*****

you do buy yourself a good, wine-red dress and although you selected it purely because you daydreamed of suguru geto romantically lifting it off of you, that never happened that night because everything went wrong and ended in a drunk mess.

avoiding satoru was not easy when you looked so good and he was so horny and lonely, so you let him heatedly mark you up with his lips in the bathroom and put his hands all over you. the way he squeezed and massaged your body made you think for a split second that he really did like you. and the way he kissed you? he kissed you like a romantic — yeah, horny. of course horny. but a romantic over that.

"... why do you look so good tonight..." he said, as if it was unfair.

"uh-huh." you reply. "that's thirty minutes up, playboy."

"daaamn i'm not a playboy, stop calling me that." satoru groaned, and like a sexy playboy.

"you sound like one every time you open your mouth."

"then silence me." he replied with a wink.

"... i'm going to go find shoko."

he made a whiny noise.

"but—"

"—no, satoru."

"okay."

satoru looked like he was holding back a lot, but you couldn't understand what he was holding back. did he just want sex? was that it? no, not with that look in his eyes. he didn't look at you like a wolf, he looked at you like the breakup was a robbery for him, and you were stolen.

stolen by who? who knows. i don't know. do you know? hm. maybe you can guess.

*****

i hate drinking, suguru thinks as he stumbles around the party bleary-eyed and swaying, leaning, into any wall that could care to hug him right now.

i hate it here, too.

he looks disgustedly at everyone, then goes into the quiet backyard where there's no life but the crickets in the grass.

why can't she like me as much as i like her?

he's mean and drunk. he's hurt.

that's why when the two of you encounter each other, an argument froths up.

"damn what's your problem tonight?" you asked after he made some passive aggressive comment.

"you."

"me? the fuck did i do?" you look at him.

"you ruined my life..." he slurs romantically.

"... what?"

he kisses you so softly. you tense up, far too confused to enjoy it even though his kiss is something you've wanted for a while now.

when he pulls back and sees your facial expression, he feels guilty.

did they lie? it seems like i'm not as good of a kisser as they said.

"... i love you." he says against your face.

"you're drunk."

"no, i'm in love." he says drunkenly.

"let's get you sober..."

"i mean it!"

"then say it when you're sober. i think you think you love me right now, but tomorrow you won't make eye contact with me. in fact, i know you'll pretend this never happened."

he sniffles, starting to cry.

"shit, don't cry. i don't know what to do if you cry."

"... just hold me... i'm cold." he says.

it's summer, but i'm cold and lonely and in need a warm touch.

you hold him.

for a while, he just stays there with his head on your upper chest. his nose gets stuffy as he keeps crying. unable to tell whether it's the alcohol or you that's making him cry right now.

"can i come home with you?" he asks.

and he asks it in such a soft, pathetic voice that you can't say no.

"alright. but no funny business..."

"yeah, of course."

i'm too drunk and sad, even if you'd want that i couldn't.

so you take the train home with him at 2 AM. the train handles sway overhead. there's a lot of empty seats. the lighting is stark. you're cuddled together like awkward lovers after an argument. suguru almost falls asleep from your body warmth.

*****

you herd a drunk suguru into your bedroom and turn the lights on.

"lay down." you tell him. "i'll get you water."

"i love you."

"okay." you reply flippantly, but his words struck you and they'd settle in your mind for days to come.

"just 'okay'?" he lifts his head sadly from the pillow.

"i don't know what to do with your "i love you". it's just too much right now. you've given me mixed signals for months and now you hit me with this?" you shake your head at him.

he pouts to himself, still incredibly drunk. all he can really hear and feel and need is you.

"... cuddles?" he asks.

"okay..."

so you lay with him and he's so overjoyed he blatantly smiles about it, soaking up your warmth and the softness of the bed. your bed. he's in your bed, cuddling you, just like he knew he would one day. even if it's under a strange circumstance. even if everything was confusing and messed up, in your bed everything made sense.

but you're laying there wondering, is he going to pretend this never happened once he's sober tomorrow? is he going to pretend the two of you didn't lay together, talking about your lives in hushed voices, sharing childhood memories with laughter — is all of this going to dissolve the next day just like the alcohol dissolves from him?

you don't know.

suguru's needy squeezing and soft breathing in your ear make you feel loved, even if it's just drunken love. and somewhere in the cave of his mind, he's hoping that by the morning his courage won't have evaporated and he won't become a coward and damn just love you.

"kiss me." he mumbles against your cheek.

"what, right now?"

"of course right now."

you don't know where his sudden need to kiss came from, but you sympathize with the drunkard — they need a kiss to warm up and feel alright. but you also shake, just a little, because this is what you want, too.

one kiss doesn't satisfy him, he gets greedy. and greedier after each kiss, until his tongue is slithering into your mouth and he's leaning on you with his weight, pressing a boner into your lower half.

"suguru... don't. you're gonna regret it in the morning, probably."

"... how could i regret you?"

the shift in his voice told you that some of the alcohol had worn off, albeit not too much.

his fingertips press into your skin and it sends him to heaven. you're sighing under his touch, trying to practice self-restraint, because this drama keeps getting more dramatic and you didn't want to contribute to it more by fucking with the best friend of the guy you dated — er, whom you dated to get back at said guy for dating someone else.

suguru kisses your neck tenderly, and that's when you snap and give in completely.

"... i want you."

"then have me."

******

a shuddery moan escapes suguru when he slides inside you. he spreads your legs a little wider, snuggling his waist between them like he's found his home.

"kinda romantic, aren't you?" you tease. "i could practically see your pupils dilating there."

he hums at the sensation of your wet walls gripping him.

"yeah, romantic — i'm sure you noticed that about satoru, too, huh?"

"someone's jealous..."

he bottoms out in you so slowly that it's easier to take. he's not unbearably big, not unbearably thick, just perfectly filling you.

"... of course i'm jealous, why'd you think i told him to break up with you."

"huh?"

you don't have time to question this crazy revelation because he's driving into you back and forth hard all of a sudden, knocking you into a near-orgasm with how perfectly he angles into your g-spot.

"fuck, baby!" he whines into your shoulder, "you feel so good!"

"s-suguru..."

"yeah, say my name." he commands breathlessly, "say it over and over until i cum."

he sounds nearly pathetic, like he hasn't pleasured his cock in forever. he's nearly drooling. just going crazy for you but at the same time trying to maintain his cool "i'm geto suguru" — which slips completely when he cums prematurely.

"i love you, oh my god i love you so fucking much, will you have my baby?"

"y—y–yeah! i'll — fuck! — i'll have your baby, suguru!" you reply.

"oh, good girl." he moans, "get pregnant for me."

he's so whipped by your reply that even though his cock is overstimulated and sensitive from cumming, he still drives into you until you reach your orgasm. he even snuggles his fingers into your clit and rubs it frantically, practically forcing your orgasm to arrive. he just loves to see it wrack your body and make you curl in.

"fuck... you're so beautiful." he says as he watches you cum all over his cock.

"s—suguru!" you pant, totally incoherent for a few seconds because of how strong your orgasm came over you.

he's slowly sliding his softening cock in and out, until he slides it out your stretched-out hole and you can hear him slide out — practically hear how thick his cum is as it dribbles out of you.

"creampies are pretty romantic, huh?" he jokes, smirking down at you as you pant.

"... you're crazy."

"i'm crazy for you."

"... me too."

he cuddles you for the rest of the night as if that's all he ever needed to hear. and what consequences would come for fucking you when he knew satoru genuinely likes you?

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[wandasslut3000]

You’re mine

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, mommy!kink, unspecified age gap, squirting, sub!reader, cunnilingus, spitting, scissoring, marking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dirty talk, bondage, bdsm, praise, degradation, possessiveness, fingering, begging.

WC: 1.3k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Please! I need you!" You whimper, the wet ache between your legs practically sending you into tears.

"And why should I give a brat like you what you want? You know I don't like seeing you around with her."

One finger slowly trailed up your thigh making it twitch, your wrists bound to the headboard and your legs wide open as your ankles are held apart with cuffs.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry, Okay? I won't even look in her direction again, it was a stupid mistake!" You practically sobbed in need.

She was referring to your co-worker Cindy, knowing about her attraction towards you always sent Lizzie in a fit of rage, she hates having to see her near you for work.

Cindy came to take the rest of your shift at the bar you work at. Clearly she'd gone through some of the inventory herself, being a little too handsy for your liking.

Lizzie had come to pick you up, having decided to not wait in the car, she made her way inside the club to find Cindy trying to untie your apron for you, although you had already declined multiple times, she still insisted.

You turned and your eyes widened as you saw your girlfriend eyeing the two of you, making you practically tear your uniform off and rush straight to her, her eyebrow cocked up and her lip between her teeth.

Though you both knew it wasn’t your fault, you were still in for it.

"Oh yeah? Are you sure? I bet Cindy would just love to see you like this."

Her tone changes from harsh to teasing in a matter of seconds, another rush of wetness practically leaking out of you.

"No- I only need you.. Only you can have me!" Lizzie's lips turn up in a smirk, her hands moving up and down the flesh of your thighs, your clit throbbing, practically begging to be touched.

"That's right, this is all mine." She gestures to your quivering body, one hand moving up to your breast and giving it a squeeze, her thumb rubbing against your nipple making you bite your lip in pleasure.

"You're all mine, isn't that right pretty girl?"

You nod rapidly and her hands grope your chest, making you whimper at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for her to absolutely ruin you.

"Words"

"I belong to you.. Please mommy just touch me." Her eyebrows raised at the name and your lips snapped shut, a fierce blush covering your face and you realized the words that slipped out of your mouth.

"Mommy huh? You want mommy to touch you princess?"

"I'm sorry, it's just.. please, fuck me." At this point tears are springing from your eyes, your legs twitching in both anticipation and embarrassment. Your pussy throbbing to the point that it hurt.

"Aww poor baby, you need mommy to play with your pretty pussy is that it?" She moves onto her stomach to lay between your legs, eyeing your leaking wetness hungrily. Her finger slips through your slit and finally up to your bundle of nerves.

You moan pathetically, you whole body quivering at finally feeling her.

"Yeah? You like me touching you right here?"

You nod and her other hand joins in the stimulation, sliding past your folds and inside you, the finger on your clit being replaced by her mouth as she latches herself onto the bundle of nerves.

Her fingers move in and out of you faster and faster with each pump. "Oh god please- don't stop..” You can't contain yourself, she just feels so good.

"Such a slut for mommy aren't you? How pathetic." She taunts, picking up her pace, your eyes shutting and mouth dropping at the feeling.

Just as you're about to reach my your climax, everything stops. Your eyes snap open and your tears return.

"Wha- No! Please!" You sobbed, not being able to hold your tears of frustration any longer. Lizzie looks at you which sadistic grin, her head tilting slightly in amusement to your desperate state.

"Please- I'll do anything mommy, I'll do anything to cum for you!" Her eyebrows raised at that.

"Anything?"

"Yes!" You whined, your back arching more towards her. "I'll do whatever you want, just please don't stop."

She thinks about it for a moment before diving back in, lapping at you more harshly than before, her fingers returning to your entrance and she coaxes you to your release.

You feel so good.." You gasp as your legs try to wrap around her, trying to feel her close to you, the cuffs around your ankles make it harder for you to do so, only the heels of your feet reaching towards her back and pathetically attempting to pull her somewhat closer.

"Oh my god, yes!" You squeal as you finally reach the edge, your eyes rolling as your whole body trembles as ripples of pleasure flow through you.

Your back arching, your walls clenching around her fingers, practically sucking her in.

This didn't stop her however, her pace increasing as she moved to press love bites between your thighs, leaving bright red and purple marks

You start to tug onto the binds, the overstimulation making you squirm, your lip quivering as moans were pried from your throat.

"Mommy- s'too much.." you whine.

"You can take it baby, look how good this greedy pussy is sucking me in.” She stares down at you in awe, the lewd noises of your fresh arousal echoing loudly in the room.

Your legs start to thrash when her finger returned to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You've already lost it, wailing into the air as you take everything she gives you.

"Look at mommy's little cry baby, so pretty like that."

Her lips trail up your body, leaving dark patches on the column of your throat before using her finger to trace your lips, her free hand gripping your jaw. "Open."

You do as she says, letting your jaw fall slack before she spits into your mouth, a whimper escaping you at the feeling of her saliva on your tongue. Her hand pushes your jaw closed as you stare up at her with wide doe eyes,

"Now swallow." You follow her command, feeling her fingers move away and her wet pussy press against yours and take their place.

Her hands now on your hips, using you to help keep herself up, moans leaving her as though she was taunting you, leaving you a moaning mess beneath her.

Your limbs are still bound to the bed, leaving you breathless and under her mercy, your lip jutting out slightly at not being able to touch her.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful babygirl. I just can't help but want to put this pretty body to good use."

You both moan at her words, her hands moving up from your hips to pinch your nipples, your hips bucking up and your back arching towards her.

All you could feel was her.

"Mommy.. m’gonna cum." Your voice horse from your screams and moans, words coming out in barely a whisper.

"Just wait for me princess, hold on just a little bit longer."

Lizzie's brows furrow and her mouth falls open at the overwhelming feeling of your clits brushing against each other, your folds rubbing hers in the most perfect way.

"Mmh- cum with mommy baby, let go for me."

You feel a gush of wetness squirt out of you as that euphoric feeling takes over once again, that's when her body trembles against yours. She grabs your face, kissing you deeply as she lets the aftershocks of her orgasm wash over her.

When you both pull apart you're left breathless, your body painted with her kisses, pussy throbbing , wrists and ankles sore, but you wouldn't have had it other way.

"That'll show Cindy not to mess with what's mine."

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

dating headcanons

main 4 + butters

— ♡

stan

— definitely the type to bully you but loves you to death

— constantly posting you on social media

— you need him? he’s already there actually he’s been hiding in your walls

— gets super in his head a lot, requires a lot of reassurance & affection

— SUPER FUCKING PROTECTIVE

— some dude’s making you uncomfortable? his hand’s on your shoulder and he’s ready to beat the shit out of him

— the silent but deadly type

— basically no one fucks w his s/o

— but super duper soft

— sticky as fuck

— you thought kenny was a physical touch kinda guy? stan is 10 times worse

— constantly holding your hand or lacing your pinkies together

— prefers quiet nights in over nights out 100%

— movie nights are his absolute fav he loves the cliche holding hands in popcorn thing

— a bit of an alcoholic but never an angry drunk, he’ll be constantly up your ass blubbering about how much he loves you

— “your eyes are so pretty and your face is so pretty and i love your hair like that and how do you smell so good”

kyle

— if he were an anime character he’d be a tsundere for sure

— dislikes pda but in private he has no problem being affectionate

— is super awkward around you, doesn’t really know how to talk to you or how to act

— also prefers quiet nights in but in a totally different way

— would much rather read a book with your legs in his lap than watch a movie

— one phone call away tho don’t get him wrong

— if you need him he’s immediately on his way no questions asked

— very very very very protective

— also the type to hover behind you but the second you give him the go ahead he’s running his mouth

— all bark but also a super gnarly bite

— also super jealous and kind of insecure

— you’re his first real relationship so he’s always scared someone’s gonna steal you away

— the type to give you massages and ask you about your day

— domestic housewife fs, always cooking for you and making sure your house is clean

— always leaves sweet notes for you to wake up to but will never acknowledge them

— overall such a sweetheart, would do anything for you but is a stickler on saying the l word

— thinks it loses its sparkle if it’s said too much

kenny

— sticky horny bastard

— always cuddled up to you or holding your hand or kissing you

— big fan of pda

— if he’s not touching you and he’s in your presence someone’s getting hurt

— loves partying but also loves quality time with you

— would totally go out if you wanted but also would curl up in bed with you if you weren’t feeling it

— always eager to please you

— he’s like a dog, at your beck and call, awaiting your orders

— but don’t touch his s/o or he’ll go nuts

— not really the jealous type but definitely the possessive type

— like he doesn’t get worked up about someone hitting on you, he knows you’re fine as fuck, but the second someone tries to touch you his arms are around you and he’s kissing you

— very much a gentleman

— he makes very misogynistic comments about your body but ultimately you’re a queen and you should never have to lift a finger

— always worshipping the ground you walk on

— definitely a stoner

— giggles at everything you do when he’s high and 100% smokes you out every chance he gets

— he just loves you so much he’d literally combust

eric

— isn’t really one for affection, private or public

— definitely runs his mouth to you

— but the second you get upset he’s crying begging you to stop being mad rubbing your feet

— a messy bitch for sure

— always stirring up drama in the friend group and sitting back watching it all go down with you

— would definitely scheme with you about starting beef

— views you as his queen but treats you as an equal (which is huge for him because everyone is below him)

— hates seeing you cry and would easily tell off whichever son of a bitch did it

— but also wouldn’t hesitate to bully you to the verge of tears

— makes up for it by offering you some of his cheesy poofs

— unspoken acts of affection for sure

— hates going out

— he’d much rather watch a comedy movie and shit on the plot with you

— the type to act like he hates you around his friends but the second you’re in a private setting he’s reminding you that he loves you

— possessive, jealous, protective, the big 3

— kind of like a chihuahua, all bark no bite

— probably also low key an alcoholic but never drunk to the point of being a lovey dovey bitch

butters

— the sweetest boyfriend ever

— panics every time you cry or are upset in any way

— even if he’s grounded he’ll still find a way to talk to you

— if there’s a screen there’s a way

— doesn’t really fall into any category

— kind of just exists, way too happy that you’re dating him to notice anything else

— the type to post you on every social media platform he has

— would shout from the rooftops about how much he loves you

— very acts of service

— would do anything you asked as long as you were happy

— gives you back rubs every night

— sleeps with his head on your chest because he loves to listen to your heartbeat

— physical touch too

— loves holding your hand and caressing your cheeks

— stares at you for hours like “wow i can’t believe my s/o is this perfect”

— makes sure your needs are taken care of before his

— constantly texting you to remind you that he loves you and that you’re perfect in every way

— good morning and goodnight paragraphs even if you live together

— loves you to the moon and back and wants everyone to know it

[criminally-chill]

What happens in vegas doesn’t stay in vegas.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

Trigger: Alcohol

—————————

Waking up to a pounding headache, dry mouth, and bleary eyes was hardly unusual after a night out with the team. But as you stirred, your senses came alive to an unexpected warmth beside you. Blinking in confusion, you turned to see Emily Prentiss, still asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow, face tucked against your shoulder. You could feel her breath tickling your neck, and your mind raced to make sense of the situation.

For a moment, everything felt blissfully peaceful until your brain kicked in. Wait a minute. Why is Emily cuddling with me? And what’s that glint on my finger? Instinctively, you lifted your hand, squinting at the gold band resting there.

“Oh no,” you murmured, heart dropping as you turned to Emily, who stirred at your voice, blinking up at you with sleepy confusion.

She took a moment to process her surroundings, then her gaze flickered down to her own ring finger, widening as she registered the matching wedding band. “What the hell?” she muttered, voice thick with sleep.

“Uh… morning?” you said, trying to sound casual, but the panic in your voice betrayed you.

“Tell me this is just some weird Vegas souvenir and not…” she trailed off, her tone mixing disbelief with a hint of laughter.

“Yeah, I wish I could say that,” you mumbled, biting back a nervous laugh. “But I think we might’ve made some questionable life choices last night.”

Emily rubbed her temples, attempting to gather her thoughts. “So you’re telling me we’re… married? Is that the conclusion we’re reaching here?”

“Pretty sure,” you replied, feeling embarrassment creeping in. “Though I can’t recall much after the fifth round of tequila.”

She leaned back against the headboard, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Okay, but just to be clear, was I a willing participant in this marriage, or did I get dragged into it against my will?”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I can’t remember any kidnapping happening. But the last thing I recall was Morgan egging us on to take more shots and maybe something about karaoke.”

“Great,” Emily said, a smirk breaking through her surprise. “So we got drunk, sang poorly, and decided to get hitched. Classic.”

“Exactly. The perfect recipe for disaster,” you added, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m sure this is going to make for a fun conversation with the team.”

“Fun? More like a complete train wreck,” she replied, her grin widening. “Garcia is going to lose her mind when she finds out.”

You exchanged incredulous looks, the absurdity of the situation settling in. “We should probably get ready for breakfast,” you suggested, still trying to process the reality of your actions.

“Ugh, do we have to?” she groaned, collapsing back against the pillows. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “If we skip, they’ll come looking for us. I’d rather face them now than let them find out later.”

“True,” Emily said reluctantly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and running a hand through her hair. “Let’s just get this over with. But I swear, if any of them make a joke about us being ‘Mr. and Mrs.,’ I might just cry.”

With a collective sigh, you both prepared for the day ahead, knowing that confronting your teammates would be just as chaotic as the night before.

Half an hour later, you made your way to the hotel restaurant, both of you wearing baseball caps and sunglasses to hide your faces. As you entered, you spotted Morgan, JJ, Reid, and Garcia already seated, looking just as rough around the edges as you felt.

“Good morning, sleepyheads!” Garcia chirped, her bright smile almost blinding. “Did you enjoy your night in Sin City?”

Emily shot you a glance, both of you trading knowing smirks. “You could say that,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You two look like you’ve seen better days. I bet you had a wild night, huh?”

“More like a wild disaster,” Emily said, her tone playful but edged with caution. “What’s the last thing you all remember?”

“Not much after the fifth round of tequila,” JJ admitted, her voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands. “I remember karaoke, though. Garcia, you were amazing.”

Garcia beamed, her pride shining through. “Of course I was! I nailed ‘I Will Survive.’ You all should’ve been my backup dancers!”

“Backup dancers?” Morgan laughed. “You were more like a one-woman show! I think you might have scared the bouncers.”

Reid, ever the curious one, leaned forward. “I recall something about pool games and a bouncer being involved. Did we end up having an actual competition?”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, and you lost, buddy. The bouncer was way too serious for our antics.”

“Great,” you said, trying to remember how you’d contributed to the chaos. “So we were just a bunch of drunken fools?”

“Pretty much,” JJ replied, finally lifting her head. “But it sounds like we were all on the same page, right?”

“Right,” Emily said, her gaze flicking to you with a glimmer of mischief. “We just have to figure out how to explain this whole situation without embarrassing ourselves further.”

“Hey, whatever happened in Vegas stays in Vegas!” Garcia chimed in, grinning. “Unless it involves marriage. That’s a different story!”

You and Emily exchanged looks, hearts racing at the thought of how Garcia would react if she found out the truth. “I just hope they don’t dig too deep,” you said quietly, leaning in.

But before you could finish, Garcia pulled out her phone, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, you guys are going to love this! I may have recorded some of last night.”

“Wait, what?” you said, your heart sinking. “What do you mean?”

“Only the best parts!” Garcia said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s see what we’ve got here!”

“No, no, no, please don’t!” you and Emily said in unison, but it was too late. Garcia was already pressing play, and the screen lit up.

The video showed a tipsy version of you and Emily stumbling into a wedding chapel, laughter filling the air. You could hear the cheers and jeers of the team in the background, egging you both on as you approached the officiant.

“Are you serious?” JJ gasped, her eyes wide. “You guys actually did it!”

The video continued, showing the officiant’s voice almost drowned out by the laughter of your teammates. You watched in horror as Emily playfully swayed, holding onto you for balance. Then you both exchanged vows, the most ridiculous promises you could think of, like sharing snacks and always picking the next action movie.

“Is this for real?” Morgan said, his mouth agape. “You guys actually went through with it?”

You could barely meet Emily’s gaze, the absurdity of the situation settling in as you both burst into laughter. “So much for a wild Vegas night staying just in Vegas,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Wow, this is priceless!” Reid said, chuckling. “I can’t believe you two managed to get married while drunk!”

“I know!” Emily added, still giggling. “I never thought I’d find myself in a wedding chapel while tipsy. That’s definitely a first.

Morgan couldn’t stop laughing, slapping the table with his hand. “What happens next? Are we going to get wedding invitations in the mail, or what?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t even think about that right now.”

Garcia, still gleefully watching the video, turned to you both, eyes wide with excitement. “You know, this could be a romantic story if you decide to make it work!”

“Romantic? It’s a total disaster!” you protested, though you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the thought of being with Emily in a more serious way.

“Yeah, but look at it this way,” JJ chimed in. “You guys got married in Vegas! That’s got to count for something, right?”

Emily rolled her eyes but was smiling. “I mean, it does make for a hell of a story.”

“Can you imagine telling Hotch?” Reid said, his eyes wide with genuine excitement. “He’ll either think it’s a great idea or want to strangle you both.”

You and Emily laughed, picturing Hotch’s reaction. “You’re probably right,” you admitted, trying to picture the stern unit chief’s face as you explained the circumstances of your marriage.

The laughter continued as everyone joked about what your lives would look like as a married couple, the ridiculousness of the situation slowly easing the tension that had initially gripped you both. You could see how the lighthearted banter was bonding the team, the laughter helping to normalize the crazy turn of events.

As breakfast wrapped up, you could feel a sense of camaraderie building. “Well, I guess we should take this head-on,” Emily said, leaning back in her chair, her expression a mix of mischief and determination.

“Agreed,” you replied, feeling a surge of confidence. “Let’s just own it.”

As the team filed out of the restaurant, you and Emily lingered, your

[dark-and-kawaii]

I miss Keiran….

Ah yes, Kieran. The bad boy. I’m not sure why I stopped talking about him. I’m sorry!!! I didn’t realize he was loved so much!!! Here you go <333 a little something for you and anyone else who enjoyed him!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

✧˖° Pairing: Omc x Reader

✧˖° Content: Slight NSFW - Kieran (he’s his own warning) - Sloppy Kissing - Drug Use To Heighten Sensitivity

✧˖° Notes: Tagging @reverieblondie since they’re the lovely human who inspired Rolan to be a part of Kieran’s story ♡ ♡

“Be a doll and open that pretty mouth of yours,” his nail gently scraped the underside of your chin before finding your lower lip and pressing against it, forcing your jaw to open, “that’s a good girl…”

You didn't dare move, you stayed sat on your knees in the center of the room. Kieran’s voice was oh so sweet, like a lullaby, but his words were threatening… Always so threatening.

He leaned forward- bending slightly so that his hot breath ghosted over your face. You could smell the scent of wine, a bitter, tangy aroma that was intoxicating in its own way, and then his thumb brushed across your bottom lip, dragging it down, making your jaw ache, as he pulled at the soft flesh, “keep your eyes on me, baby.” he purred, his other hand brushing your hair behind your ear.

Locking your eyes with his, your chest heaving as he stared deep into your soul… The tiefling held you there, his grip still on your jaw, as his thumb slid into your mouth. Your lips automatically closed around his finger and he let out a chuckle, “That’s my girl, suckle my fingers. Just like a little whore should~ I wonder how those pretty lips would look around my cock, hmm? Would you enjoy that, doll?”

Your cheeks burned a bright red as you tried not to choke on his finger.

Kieran hummed, his thumb leaving your wet lips, a small trail of saliva connecting you for a moment before breaking. Kieran licked the excess from his thumb before his lips were on yours. The kiss was rough, and sloppy, and the taste of alcohol was strong on his tongue. His free hand gripped your hair, pulling you closer, as his teeth caught your bottom lip, biting, and pulling.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, the sensation of his warm, wet muscle twirling and curling with yours, and exploring every inch. And as you're lost in the kiss you feel a small pill slip from his tongue and onto your own. You knew what it was, a pill that heightens your senses and increases pleasure, making everything on you just that much more sensitive.

You let out a needy moan, a sound you wished you could have stopped.

But you couldn't help it. Kieran had a hold on you. He knew how to manipulate you, make you want him. He made you feel things that no man should be able to do to a woman.

And as you felt him smirk against your lips, you knew he had won.

Once again.

The bastard had won.

Pulling away from you, Kieran licked his lips, chuckling darkly as he looked down at you. Your lips were red and swollen, saliva coating them, and your pupils were dilated.

Your thighs started to rub together, a burning need rising in the pit of your stomach. You hated how your body reacted to him. It was pathetic, yet you craved him, needed him...

You were his to do whatever he wanted with.

As he stood, he slowly began to peel away his jacket, “Now how about we have some real fun, lemme show you what that sad excuses of a wizard, Rolan never could.”

[drvirgus]

hi; i dont know if i can request it but if can; can i request hanni oneshot where she and y/n are in a relationship and for as long as hanni remember she can’t find any weakness on y/n. so she tried making you jealous, annoyed and everything possible but y/n just prove she is the greenest flag ever until one moment when she found out that y/n actually have weakness in different between left and right or anything else. your writing is just so good👉🏻👈🏻

hope you like it

Show me your Weakness

Hanni X Reader

One Shot

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I yawned tiredly. In my hand, a glass of wine, while I glanced at the person next to me. Haerin noticed my yawning and smiled sympathetically, "Why don't you tell Hanni that you want to leave?" the younger one suggested, glancing briefly at Hanni. I smiled too, "Oh no. Hanni seems to be having a lot of fun. It's been quite a while since we all could get together like this," I replied, and my eyes also fell on my girlfriend.

A smile played on my lips as our eyes met. However, Hanni grinned shortly afterward and moved a bit closer to Minji. She danced closer to Minji, which made me chuckle. Haerin next to me narrowed her eyes and looked from Hanni and Minji to me, "Um, is that okay with you?" she asked, now more cautiously.

I immediately turned my attention to Haerin and laughed a bit, "Of course. Minji is Hanni's best friend, and besides, I trust her," I replied, and Haerin nodded slightly. I took a small sip from my wine glass and looked back at Hanni. She kept glancing at me, this time looking dissatisfied.

I noticed Hanni approaching me. Her arms wrapped around my neck as she sat on my lap, "Minji can really dance well," I heard my girlfriend say, a smile on her lips as she looked at me. A certain sparkle in her eyes.

I nodded my head, "Yes, she's pretty good. But you're much better," I replied, my arms around her waist as I rested my forehead against her shoulder. For a while, my eyes closed, the music pounding in my ears, and the taste of alcohol becoming more unpleasant with each passing second.

"Should we go, baby?" Hanni asked, looking at me with a small smirk on her face. I looked at her immediately, "Are you sure? We can stay longer if you want," I replied, which made Hanni smile even wider. She chuckled softly and immediately gave me a kiss on the temple, "I'm tired too. We should go."

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Smiling, I looked into the camera as I started a video chat with Yeji. The older woman sat on her bed while I leaned back on my couch. The laptop was on the coffee table in front of me. "So? What are our plans for the next schedule? Manager-nim didn't tell me anything concrete," I asked as I glanced at my laptop.

Yeji, the leader of Itzy, sighed softly and visibly rolled her eyes. "I don't know myself. They mentioned something about a variety show, but that's about it," the older one replied. I nodded understandingly and picked up my coffee cup to take a sip.

"Baby?"

My head turned to Hanni, who rubbed her eyes sleepily and slowly approached me. I smiled, "Good morning, baby. I can't right now, okay?" I said, pointing to the video chat with Yeji. However, Hanni looked at me and then at Yeji. Her jaw slightly tensed.

She was quite jealous of Yeji since the Midzys shipped me with her. Moreover, before I met Hanni, I may have had a tiny crush on her. I smiled encouragingly and turned my head back to Yeji, "Sorry. So, a variety show? Have you already messaged Manager-nim, or should I do it?" I asked.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Hanni heading to the kitchen. Yeji shook her head, yawning softly, "No, I've already taken care of it," she replied, and I nodded again. I sighed a bit as I ran my hand over my forehead. I was tired as Hanni and I went to bed late.

"Oh. Can you get all the Newjeans members to do a video for Instagram with you?" the older one asked, and I immediately smiled, "Of course. They're all my friends," I said, laughing lightly. However, Yeji grinned shortly afterward, "Friends, huh? What about the woman in your apartment?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

I laughed at the gesture and shook my head in amusement. I noticed Hanni returning to the living room from the kitchen. Her eyes visibly narrowed, "Baby?" she asked, making me look back at her. The younger one had her arms crossed over her chest, "I didn't know you had to work today," she said, and my eyes slightly widened.

She was quite annoyed.

"Sorry, baby. It won't take long," I immediately replied, but Hanni didn't budge. I turned my attention back to Yeji. The older one noticed my nervous expression and sighed amusedly, "I should let you go, Y/n. I need to talk to Chaeryeong and Ryujin," she said. I nodded and said my goodbyes.

I felt Hanni sitting next to me as I closed the laptop, focusing all my attention on my girlfriend. "Aren't you annoyed?" Hanni asked, surprised to see me so relaxed. I furrowed my brow questioningly, "No, why would I be?" I asked with a smile. However, Hanni just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"Because I interrupted your work?" she asked, stating the obvious, making me smile a bit. I immediately put my arm around my girlfriend, pulling her closer to me, "You're not a disturbance," I replied, causing Hanni to sigh slightly. Defeated, she rested her head against my shoulder.

"Do you even have weaknesses?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

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

"Are you sure?" I asked as I looked at my girlfriend. She sat on the couch, wrapped in my hoodie, with a bowl of popcorn on her lap while mine was on the coffee table. I took a deep breath, "Yeah, let's watch the horror movie. If you get scared, I'm here," Hanni said confidently.

I nodded with my head and pressed play. The remote control was now next to me as I got comfortable under the blanket with Hanni. Almost immediately, her head rested on my shoulder, "This one is really scary, Han," I warned, which made Hanni laugh a bit, "That's why I picked it," she replied.

I peacefully enjoyed my popcorn while in the movie, guts flew in the air, and it got quite bloody. Hanni repeatedly hid her face against my shoulder whenever it got even remotely scary. My arm immediately wrapped around her as I moved closer to her.

"Ahhh," Hanni screamed when a jump scare appeared in the movie. That made me laugh a bit. She looked pretty cute when she got scared. Hanni looked at me shortly after, a horrified expression on her face, "Aren't you scared?" she asked with her mouth wide open. I smiled immediately.

"No," I replied and gave her a kiss. She looked at me in disbelief while my attention returned to the movie. The younger one sighed defeated once again, "No weaknesses," she muttered softly.

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

"Minji and I are shipped so often," I heard it next to me as Hanni turned her phone towards me to show me one of those shipper videos on Instagram. I watched it and couldn't help but smile, "It just shows that you're really good friends. Fans somehow turn everything into something romantic," I replied, laughing lightly, which left Hanni audibly discontent.

She scrolled further and showed me more videos where she was shipped with someone, mainly Minji. I chuckled softly as I shook my head in amusement. Hanni, however, scrutinized every one of my reactions and became increasingly angrier. Her forehead furrowed as she carelessly threw her phone next to her, "Doesn't it bother you at all?!" she asked, visibly angry now.

My eyebrows raised as I looked at my girlfriend in surprise, "What do you mean?" I asked, visibly confused. "Well, that I'm shipped with others? Everyone wants me to be together with Minji," Hanni asked, throwing her arms up while speaking. She seemed so annoyed that she even switched to English.

"Why should it bother me? I don't care what others think," I replied in English as well. However, Hanni still had her forehead furrowed, her breath audibly quickening, and she continued to snort, "I love you. I also know that you love me. I trust you with everything I have," I said with a smile on my face. Her hands now in mine as I gently ran my thumb over the back of her hand.

"So no, it doesn't bother me. Because you are mine, and I am yours. And I know that if that ever changes, you'll talk to me about it," I added, surprising Hanni a bit. Her mouth opened as she looked at me. Tears welled up in her eyes, "Of course, you idiot," she replied, which made me laugh a bit.

"Are you going to kiss me, or are you still mad at me?" I asked as I puckered my lips. Hanni snorted and let go of my hand. Almost immediately, her hand was on my neck, and her lips met mine, "Do you really love me?" she asked uncertainly.

I smiled and pulled her onto my lap. My arms around her waist, "With every breath I take, I fall more in love with you."

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With a smile on my face, I looked out onto the street. My hands on the steering wheel, one of them resting on my girlfriend's thigh. She was looking at her phone, playing music, and had the navigation on.

Hanni seemed to have calmed down after our conversation and stopped teasing me in some way. Apparently, she wanted to know if I had any weaknesses since, in her eyes, I was perfect.

"The next left," Hanni said, and I nodded my head. I activated the turn signal and moved onto the left lane. Almost immediately, I noticed the questioning look on my girlfriend's face as I turned right into the street. "Baby, left!" Hanni said louder now.

"But I am turning left," I replied, making Hanni tilt her head in confusion. I now had both hands on the steering wheel, forming an 'L' with both hands. My mouth opened, "Oops," I said, embarrassed, and started laughing. "Do you have a left-right weakness?" the younger one asked, visibly surprised.

"I'm working on it, okay?" I answered as I felt my cheeks slowly heating up. Honestly, it was quite embarrassing for me. Suddenly, Hanni burst into laughter, her grin getting wider and wider. Her hand now on my thigh, "I love you so much, Y/n," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. My heartbeat quickened.

"Finally, a weakness," Hanni murmured softly, which I found impossible to hear. I was too focused on the hand on my thigh, as much as on the road.

"The next left," Hanni said again, but this time, she also gestured with her arm in the direction she meant. This made me smile. She wasn't laughing at me... She was helping me...

[modelbus]

Kaz Brekker ladies and gents!! I just HAD to write more of him, sorry to my mcyt fans… and this is a hefty one at 4K words

There is violence, alcohol, death (murder…), and suggestiveness in this! Be warned!

Part one

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Gn!Reader

It’s All An Act

You don't talk about it. Neither of you acknowledge that anything is different. Kaz sends you out on jobs, and you come back with blood-stained hands. It's nothing out of the normal, but something about it just feels different.

It doesn't help that you’re resolutely avoiding him the best you can. If you don’t have a buffer there—Jesper, Wylan, or Inej—then you simply won't be talking to him. Not while the memory of his hand on your hip is still present.

"Now that was a good job!" Jesper cheers, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You laugh, leaning into him easily. 

"I only had to save your ass once." You joke, grinning.

"What's a job without some ass-saving?" His gaze flits around the Crow Club, undoubtably looking for Kaz and Wylan. The two were arriving last, having to do whatever they were doing. You were in no position to question Kaz's secret plans.

"True." You relent.

"You should drink! Come on, celebrate with me." Jesper knocks on the bar, and a cup of liquid is sent your guys’ way within seconds. Amber-colored, pretty in theory, but you know it's a bad idea. You know what happened the last time you thought it'd be a good idea to drink.

"Jes—"

"A little celebration. Nothing crazy." He winks, offering her the glass.

Your shoulders slump, and you’re about to take it just to indulge him, but a hand snatches it before you can. Gloved in black leather, Kaz raises it with raised eyebrows. 

"Boss!" Jesper exclaims. "Join us, we were just celebrating our victory!"

"You don't drink." Kaz says lowly to you, eyes raking over you. You frown, knowing exactly what you’re both thinking of.

His hand on your hip, leaning in too close to you. Quiet words, things you still puzzled over in your head to this day.

"First time for everything." You answer, stubborn. "Or, second time."

"That's the spirit!" Jesper cheers. "Knock it back."

"No." Kaz tells you, firmly. Then, without a second thought, tosses his head back and drains the drink. He drops it back on the counter and strides off, up towards his office.

"Buzzkill." Jesper sighs.

"Who is? Kaz?" Wylan asks, appearing out of nowhere. There's gunpowder smudges on his face, too-wide eyes peering at them.

"When isn't he?" You respond with a question, rolling your eyes.

"Everything go fine on the job?" Jesper questions. "He doesn't normally drink like that."

"Yeah." Wylan nods. "Explosions went perfect. I mean, one was a bit bigger than expected, but he said that was good!"

"He means it." Jesper quickly says, consoling. "Right?" He asks with a sideways glance to you.

"Right." You nod.

"Wy, you've got gunpowder on your face." Jesper laughs, reaching out to rub it off his cheek. It smears, becoming worse. Wylan bats his hand away, flushing red.

"You're making it worse!"

"I'm trying to get rid of it!"

You laugh quietly. "I'll go grab a towel."

You stand up, letting Wylan take your seat, and head towards the stairs. There's a closet up there, near Kaz's office, where you can surely find something to wipe the gunpowder off. Hazard of being an explosions expert, you suppose.

Opening the closest, you scan it for towels or wash cloths or anything. There's a dark grey one, so you grab it and shuts the closest. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, and you spins toward Kaz's now-open office door. He leans casually against his doorframe, both hands enclosed over the cane in front of him.

"Going to ask before you ravage my supplies?" He asks you.

"You pay me, Brekker." You deadpan, crossing your arms. Just barely, you inch backwards.

These brief moments of being alone with him have been filled with more fighting than usual. It's no doubt a result of how standoffish you’ve been to each other recently, and you hate it. You miss cracking jokes with Jesper, watching Kaz as you do to see if he'll give in and smile or not. He never does, but it's nice to pretend sometimes.

"You're not hurt." Not really a question from him, but he never really deals in questions.

"No, it's for Wylan. He has gunpowder all over his face. A bit suspicious should the stadwatch come in here."

Kaz nods, which is as much permission as you’ll get for taking the hand towel. "Return it after, Assassin."

"I'll send Wylan."

"I'm not asking for Wylan."

One day, he'll kill you. Because what does that mean? Are you meant to take that as something positive or something bad? His facial expression gives nothing away, schooled in the same neutral one as always.

"I'll still send him."

His gaze hardens at your clear refusal, but he doesn't push it. Just stays silent as you turn away, headed back down to the crow club. 

"Assassin." He calls after you just when you’re an awkward distance away. Screw him. "Get your tolerance up."

"My tolerance?" You ask, momentarily confused.

"Alcohol." He clarifies. “It’s a weakness.”

You scowl at him, openly glaring. If that didn't sting you didn't know what would. This one, though, you don’t want to fight against. It was too close to the line you were trying to avoid.

"Fine."

-

Not many things are easy in life. That's just a fact of it, as clear as the grass is green and the sky is blue. Although the sky is more grey than blue in Ketterdam.

What is easy, though, is the slicing of your knife across someone's throat. Less resistance than most people expect from the flesh and blood under the metal, giving way with just a bit of pressure.

Kaz glances over his shoulder at you and the dead body at her feet, startling. It's not very noticeable, per se, but you can still tell. From the slightest widening of his eyes to the downward twitch of his lips, you know.

He had no idea someone was behind him. And that was exactly why you were put on the duty of following him tonight. 

For a second he looks at you, then just keeps walking. You huff out a laugh.

"No thanks?" You ask him, crouching to rifle through the now-dead man's pockets.

"You're doing your job." He snaps. 

"I'd still appreciate a simple 'thank you.'" You pull out his wallet, flipping it open. "Dime Lions." 

"Great." Sarcasm. It makes you smile.

"He's dead now, so no worries." 

You snap his wallet shut and tuck it back into his pocket before jogging to catch up with Kaz. There wasn't much of value in it, but you take the Kruge that's in there. Enough to paint it as a petty robbery, although Pekka Rollins will know better. The stadwatch, on the other hand, won't. Which is exactly the point.

"Why are you walking with me?" Kaz asks, stiff and pointed.

"You didn't know he was behind you." Concern, hidden well, is tucked behind your words. Kaz isn't a dumbass. He knows to watch behind him, to pay attention. 

So why wasn't he?

"I had it under control."

"Brekker, if I wasn't here—"

"I pay you to be here. I had it under control."

Warning. You’re pissing him off, but you aren’t going to stop. Your lack of self preservation is just like that sometimes.

"You could've died due to your brooding." 

His eyebrow quirks up. "Brooding?"

"Thinking about whatever it is you're thinking about." You amend. "Revenge, or murdering babies, or whatever Kaz Brekker thinks about."

He turns his head towards you, most likely to scan your expression. You scan his first. There's the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes, making the fight drain out of you. You wonder what he finds in your expression.

"I prefer not to murder babies." Kaz finally answers, never breaking his stride. You light up, because that's a joke. 

"So revenge it is." You joke back, practically glowing.

"No."

"Then what, Brekker?" 

He stops, turning towards you. "Why are you still walking with me, Assassin? Your job is on the roofs at a distance."

You draw back, deflating slightly. You don’t let it show though, knowing better than to show weakness.

"Right." You turn away, vanishing down an alley to use the fire escape to get back up to the roofs.

Kaz keeps walking.

-

"Chin up. Watch my entire body, not just my feet." You instruct, darting in to lightly tap your opponent on the shoulder. Wylan sighs, jumping backwards far too late.

"This is hopeless." He claims dejectedly.

"Not hopeless. Just... difficult." 

You step back too, giving him a second to catch his breath. When Kaz told you to teach Wylan how to fight, you hadn't thought it'd go this bad. But here you are, in the basement of the Crow's headquarters. You’re desperately trying to get him to spar with you at least a little. Honestly, you’d be happy if he hit you even once.

"Come on, you've got this. Into the square then out. Anticipate my moves." 

Wylan lunges, stuttering forward, and you side-step with minimal effort. You’re slower than usual, more obvious. But at least he's trying, even if he's failing at it.

"How?" He moans miserably, looking down at his wrapped hands. Your hands are similarly wrapped, white gauze protecting her knuckles. Not that you’re hitting Wylan at all; you’ve been tapping him whenever she gets into range. 

"Everyone has tells. Even you." You dip your head towards him. "Think of Kaz. He slides his hand down further on his cane for a better grip before he swings it. That's a tell. Or Jesper, who angles his feet into shooting position before pulling his gun."

"How do you even notice this stuff?" 

"Perks of being a fighter." You shrug, lightly circling around him.

"I'm not a fighter." He points out.

"And we're trying to make you one."

Faintly, you can hear the noise of Kaz's cane approaching from somewhere. Doing rounds, maybe. You tun him out, focusing more on Wylan instead.

"So what's your tell?" Wylan asks you, making your laugh.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have one. You'll have to figure it out yourself."

He groans again, stepping back from you. You grin, shaking your head. "Come on, you've got this."

"I'm not made for fighting. I don't know how to look for a tell!”

You laugh. "I have immeasurable faith in you, Wy."

"Well I don't!" He throws his hands in the air, and you take the chance to knock him off balance. Before he can fall, though, you catch his wrist to keep him upright.

"Careful." You teas, ignoring his mumbles of curses.

"I'm starting to wonder why Inej couldn't have taught me." He grumbles. "Who cares if she's busy? What even is a tell?!"

"Angling shoulders before making a move." Kaz says, making both Wylan and you turn. "Because of a slighter frame, seeking the added power."

Not an insult, not from him. It's just a fact, a true statement. You choose stealth, speed, and agility over muscles and strength. To you, it's better. Because he's right; in a brute force battle, you’ll lose every single time.

You could write this off as him needing to know your weakness. That's just how Kaz was: he documented every weakness of every person, just in case. But something tells you this isn't that. It's something more, something you’re too scared to dig into.

And of course your tell is one she can't even fix, because he's right. You need that power more than you need to disguise your tell. 

"Thanks, Kaz." Wylan says brightly. "Maybe you'd be a better teacher."

You roll your eyes, grinning. "I don't see Brekker on the mat." 

"Lucky him." Wylan huffs under his breath, making you laugh. 

"I’m the one who ordered these lessons." Kaz informs Wylan, although they all already knew this. "So learn."

He shifts backwards, leaning against the wall. Watching.

Great. Now you feel like you’re being judged at how bad of a teacher you are. In your defense, you were taught to fight. Not how to teach others how to fight. There's no way to explain the dance, the intuition that'll take over when your life is in danger.

"Who taught you?" Wylan asks, and you freeze.

Not because you don’t have an answer, but because it's one you can't give. At least, not with Kaz in the room. He told you to keep your secrets, that he didn't want them. Well, this was one secret you sure as hell were keeping.

"Not a particularly kind teacher." You say, hoping that's good enough.

Late at night, freshly woken from a haunting memory, you can remember your training. Getting beaten within an inch of your life every single day. Learning how to fight become a necessity to survive, to avoid injury.

You won't be teaching Wylan that way. You couldn't stand the idea of hurting him like that. Of hurting anyone like that. Bringing pain to the helpless wasn't your style; and Kaz knew that. Which was exactly why they didn't have you do torturing in the Crows.

Wylan, wisely, keeps his mouth shut and raises his fists. You nudge his feet apart into a more proper stance, biting back a laugh when he nearly topples over.

"Saints, I can't wait until Jesper gets here."

-

The first thing Kaz says to you when you haul yourself up the Crow Club stairs and into his office isn't particularly nice. His back to you, standing over his desk. From the angle you have, leaning heavily against the doorway, you can see various papers spread out on it.

"You're late, Assassin." He says blandly over his shoulder. "By an hour."

"I know." You snap, because saints if there's one thing you don’t want it's to be chewed out by Kaz right now.

"Then why—" he turns, halting his own words as he takes you in.

You must be a sight for sore eyes to make him stop like that. Shoulder braced to against the doorway so she can lean on it, you stare back at him. Your arm, bleeding from a knife wound, is wrapped protectively around your ribs. Bruised, at least, but maybe fractured or broken. 

You take Kaz in the same way he's currently taking you in. His hair is disheveled, out of his usual, which has your interest immediately. Between that and his eyes—darker than usual—you can tell he's in a bad mood. Worrying. Bad news for you, most likely.

"You're hurt." He states the obvious, eyes trailing down to where you’re dripping blood onto his floor.

"No shit, Kaz." Your voice is laced with pain; no use trying to hide what he already knows. 

"Fight?"

"I won."

"Who?"

You set her jaw and resolutely refuses to answer. To admit that an ex-employer of yours (the one ex-employer before Kaz, actually) had sent someone to kill you? It painted you as having baggage. And in the barrel, that wasn't a good thing.

You did win, though. That much is the truth. Even though her opponent was about ten times the size of you and surprised you in you own home. That was a fear tactic, and damn if it wasn't working. Maybe you’d ask if you could stay with Wylan and Jesper until you found somewhere new to live.

"You wouldn't happen to have bandages, would you?" You ask instead of answering. You know he does.

He sighs. "In the bathroom." 

Neither of them move. In theory, getting them sounded great to you. But in practice, you know it'd kill your ribs.

"Where?" Kaz asks finally, and you know he's not asking where it happened.

"Arm. Ribs."

He frowns even more than he already is, and you look away. You were hired because you’re meant to be good. Meant to be above this injury stuff.

You look back at him when you hear him moving closer. He offers his cane to you. Anywhere else, it'd be courtesy. Simple politeness. Anyone else, it'd be no big deal. But you’re here, and it's him.

"Just take it." He says lowly, before you can make any comment.

So you do, hand wrapping around the metal crow head you’ve seen him grip a thousand times. It's warmer than you would've expected, warmed from body heat despite the gloves he's always wearing.

Kaz turns, heading to his bathroom without another word. His limp is pronounced, but he doesn't falter. You tighten your grip on his cane and follow him, ignoring the stabs of pain shooting through your ribs.

Bruised, fractured, or broken. Saints, you hope it’s the first one.

He goes to the bathroom closest, hand on the door to take the weight off his bad leg, reaching out to grabs a roll of bandages. You offer his cane back when he turns around, having the counter to lean on instead.

Kaz takes it silently, inclining his head towards the counter without any words. Your gaze flickers between him and the counter, biting your cheek.

Sitting on the counter would take the pressure off your ribs, yes. But at the same time, getting onto the counter was a problem in itself. If your ribs were broken badly, you could jar one irreversibly.

"It's like you can't do anything." Kaz snaps, anger and violence written into his tone.

You have your own quick remark fast on your tongue, easy to spit out at him. You never get the chance.

Kaz grabs your waist—gloves, he has his gloves on, and the three goddamn layers—and lifts you onto the counter. Your breath is gone for two reasons within the second. One: it fucking hurt. Two: when did he get the ability to do that? You aren’t heavy, and Kaz isn't weak, but fuck.

He drops the bandages on the counter next to you and walks out of the bathroom.

For a second, you’re too stunned to do anything. Then survival instincts kick in, and you grab the bandages with your good arm to stop the bleeding on your left one. The cut wasn't deep, a superficial wound really, but it was a lucky knife slash. Serrated blades were truly the worst thing to go around Ketterdam. Every damn fool was using them these days. Zero skill and all luck.

Ears carefully attuned to Kaz's cane and uneven footsteps, you’re just tucking the end of the bandage in when he walks back in. You don’t look up at him, although you’re about equal height right now due to your position.

It's a familiar position. Sitting on the countertop, Kaz in front of you. You close your eyes for a second, trying to clear out that mental image. 

When you open your eyes again, he's stepped between your legs.

Saints. Just like the stupid party.

"Hold your shirt up."

Your mind goes blank. "What?"

"You need someone to check if your ribs are fractured or not." His expression shifts, just slightly. Annoyed, maybe? "Hold your shirt up."

Swallowing your pride, or dignity, or self-restraint, you tug your shirt up. Just enough to make him able to see your ribs, no higher. You assume he'll look at them, seeing as observing is what he does best. You assume wrong.

Carefully, he lays his gloved hands over your rib cage and feels over your ribs. One layer. One fucking layer.

Your head tilts back, hitting the wall, mouth parting. Because this hurts, a double edged knife in the heart. Between your ribs and arm, you’ve been through enough. But now he's touching you, one layer stopping it from being skin-to-skin contact.

The coolness of his leather gloves slides over your ribs as he gently presses in, trying to feel if anything is amiss. You have to bite your tongue to stop from crying out in pain, but it's not enough to disguise your gasp.

"Breathe in." He orders. "Deeply."

You do so, slow and steady, closing your eyes against the pain. Without prompting you breathe out, which is considerably easier than breathing in. His thumb presses down, and yoj reflexively grab his wrist when it sends white-hot agony through you.

Kaz raises his eyebrows.

"Sorry." You breathe out.

One layer.

You drop your hand from his wrist.

"Talk." A command from your boss, or whatever he is to you right now.

You wracks her brain, only coming up with one thing. "Seven. I was seven—"

"Not a secret." He grinds out. "Something mundane."

It was a secret, but one you were offering willingly. Swallowing back pointless hurt (hadn't you gotten hurt at the same thing at that party?) you switch topics.

"I like dogs. The- ow- the smaller ones. Or the soft ones. They're cute, even as strays." 

Kaz presses down, harder than before, just on a certain spot on your ribs. The 8th one on the right side. You gasp, hand closing around his wrist again.

"Fractured." He says cooly, not pulling away.

Not pulling away.

"Hairline?" You ask hopefully.

Kaz, thank the saints, nods. He drops his hand but doesn't step back. In response, you drop your shirt back down.

You've been in this position before. Granted, you were drunk and not injured the last time, but your mind is drawing parallels.

"Who was it?" Kaz asks again, and you’re finally able to place the look in his eyes.

Murderous. 

If you hadn't killed the man herself, you’d be afraid for his safety. Maybe him dying to you was a blessing compared to whatever death he would've suffered at Kaz's hands.

"Who was it?" He repeats.

"Don't worry about it. I took care of it. I can handle myself just fine, Brekker."

He doesn't rise to the bait. "I know you can. And I still need a name." Pause. "Names?"

"I can handle my own fucking problems."

Kaz's gaze pointedly doesn't waiver. "What problems? I'm not above getting you drunk again. You seemed plenty happy to spill your secrets then."

Low blow. "Technically you didn't get me drunk. I got myself drunk."

"Technicalities. You're staying here tonight."

"Kaz!"

"Someone's after you, and you won't tell me who. You're an asset the Crow Club needs, and I protect my assets. Clear?"

He's Kerch. Ketterdam for most of his life, at the very least. You aren’t quite the same, having grown up in Ravka first then moved here. But you’re smart enough to know that Kerch use terms of endearment interchangeably with material goods.

And you know Kaz well enough to know that him calling you an asset isn't something small.

"Fine." You breathe, hoping he'll know that you accepting isn't something small either.

It's how the barrel works; in trades. It's how you two work.

"I'll find out who eventually." Kaz threatens—no, promises. "Wylan has the merch council after him. Inej the menagerie. Jesper the entirety of Ketterdam's gambling rings. I don't care who's after you."

"You will." 

Kaz reaches up, wrapping his fingers delicately around your chin. You’ve seen these same hands strangle a man before, yet they're nothing but soft here.

And he pulls your face to his, kissing you.

"Do not tell me what I will and won't care about."

Just as quickly as the kiss happens, it's over. Kaz takes a few steps back, until his back hits the wall. If you hadn't known him, you would've assumed it took no effort for him to do that. But you can see his hands flexing on his cane, and knows about his touch aversion.

No layers.

It takes you too many silent moments to place the look in his eyes. One that's unfamiliar to you, and unfamiliar to him. Vulnerability.

Not synonymous with weakness, because Kaz Brekker isn't weak. Even on his knees, he could be never be weak to you.

"Pekka Rollins." You breathe, offering your own vulnerability.

You know you won't get another kiss out of it, no matter how badly you want it. But you offer it anyways.

His eyes sharpen.

Your shared enemy.

"Better the enemy you know." He murmurs. "He sent someone after you."

"Repeatedly."

Kaz nods. "Then," he says slowly, meticulously, "we take him down."

He reaches a hand out, palm up, offering to help you off the counter. You take it, skin sliding against the leather, wincing as you slide off. 

"Take it easy. You're no use if your ribs become broken."

Well. If you squint, it's kind of sweet.

You stay up together, maps of Ketterdam spread out among various other papers in front of him. You in a chair next to his desk, him standing ominously over it. 

And when you start to fall asleep, ignoring the pain in your ribs, he does you the favor of not waking you up. Instead, he switches to his own seat, silently working on saints-knows-what.

The next time your eyes open, there's a blanket over you and a missing Kaz.

-

Affection from Kaz comes in the form of subtly, the things that have been there all along. The minor details you ignored, too doubtful you’d read it wrong.

Him leaning over you while reviewing a plan, for instance. Rather than wedge himself between you and Jesper—you’d both move for him, of course—he leans over you to tap a certain number. The barest of brushes, his arm against your shoulder, then nothing.

Or, more obvious, him offering out his cane to you to help you stand. It's just slightly alleviating on your ribs, which you do have wrapped carefully to prevent them from becoming worse. They're nearly healed, actually, the last of the bruises vanishing. 

But he still offers out his cane, and you still take it. Every time.