#it’s like the moment i knew i had the job i suddenly started feeling low again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafeandonlyrafe · 11 months ago

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bruised knees

words: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of blowjobs, losing virginity, virgin!reader (but fic is not smut), jealous! and overprotective!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, fluffy

rafe has been beyond overprotective of you his whole life. ever since you met in first grade and you let him borrow your brand new crayon box, only for a bully to come up and tug on your pigtails, causing rafe to pause his coloring to shove him away and tell him not to touch you ever again.

you smiled at rafe, the same smile you look at him with now, and he knew he would take care of you no matter what. you hugged him tightly and from that day on always shared your crayons, and everything else you had, with your new best friend.

“ready?” rafe slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards the boat.

“yes!” you squeal, trying to navigate holding your tote bag and backpack at once, when suddenly both are out of your hands as rafe takes them and carries them down the pier.

“rafe, i can carry my own stuff.” you roll your eyes. it's a losing battle, your best friend will always lessen your load, hating seeing you do any sort of physical labor, feeling like that's his job.

“yeah, whatever.” rafe just ignores your argument, it's one he's heard so many times before, yet you make no attempt to take the bags back. “who all did you invite again?” rafe asks as you enter onto the boat, quickly beginning preparations for the day at sea, having gone through the motions so many times, knowing the boat like the back of your hand even though it's the cameron familys.

“uhh, topper, tina, kelce, steph, tiffy and hayden.” you go through the list of names in your head of friends that will be joining you and rafe on the yacht.

“how is tiffy since the break up?” rafe asks, knowing you like to talk while you work, pulling various lines while you straighten up the boat to make it more presentable, going through the motions together, always together.

rafes question launches you into a gossip session with rafe, spilling all the secrets your friends told you at your last hang out, but they know you don't keep anything from rafe, so it's no surprise when he knows as well, not that any of the girls would complain, rafe often takes over the role of protector to your friends as well, caring about who you care about.

“there's hayden!” you call to rafe, pointing down the dock to the parking lot where haydens truck just pulled in, a few minutes earlier than you expected anyone to start arriving.

“great.” rafe mumbles under his breath, making sure you don't hear his upset tone. he liked hayden at first, sharing some common interests (mostly golf), but then hayden got far too touchy with you, his gaze heating when it turned to you in a way that infuriated rafe, and he made sure to show hayden when you weren't around how much it pissed him off.

rafe is probably to credit for you never having a boyfriend for an extended period of time, but he can't help it, you're so perfect and no guy can possibly deserve you, so he has to scare them off before you get too invested and give them all of your attention instead of him.

“hey, heyds.” you greet him with a hug after he makes his way down the pier, making rafe grunts as haydens hand rests a little too low on your back for his liking, making rafes mind reel at the possibility of something going on between the two of you.

your other friends slowly begin to pile onto the boat, steph being the last one to get there as she is notorious for being late, which is why you told her to show up half an hour before everyone else, and somehow still managed to get there last.

“ready for takeoff?” you ask rafe, stepping away to join him at the wheel while your group of friends find places to sit while rafe navigates the boat towards the ocean.

“i am.” rafe nods, having disconnected the last line. no matter what is happening, you always sit next to rafe on the bench as he directs the boat, ready to be his second in command at any moment, even if its just fetching him a drink or checking the water depth.

“i can’t wait to swim.” you say with a sigh, having not gotten out into the water all week, which is rare with how much peace you find in the ocean.

“how about that one sandbar we took wheezie to?” rafe questions, wanting you to decide where he anchors the boat.

“ooh, yes.” you nod.

“she complained to me last night that you weren’t over.” rafe smiles at you when you let out a laugh.

“i don’t spend one friday night and she complains! ugh, i love that girl.” you grin thinking about wheezie, treating her like she’s your own little sister, having known her since she was born.

“you’ll stay tonight, right?” rafe asks, missing you sharing his bed like you do every weekend.

“mhm, i’m not driving home after being out on the boat all day, gonna be so exhausted.” you roll your eyes.

rafe smiles at you, wrapping one arm around his shoulder, leaving him to drive with one hand, but wanting you close to him, secretly hoping hayden would look through the windows from the lower deck and see you all cuddled up into his side.

neither of you have ever broached the topic of taking things beyond just friendship, despite rafe desperately wanting to take things further, he doesn’t want to mess up the one good thing he has in his life. you’re such a source of brightness that when you’re around him he forgets all about his fights with his dad, or issues with barry.

“here.” rafe nods to you, immediately going to drop the anchor, planning to stay in one spot all day.

you help him make sure its secure before moving to the main deck with everyone else. “alright, who is ready to swim?” you shout with glee.

“you know i am.” hayden smirks at you, pulling his shirt off over his head.

“mhm, that’s why i like you, not afraid to get wet.” you say, rafe carefully watching the interaction, unsure if you meant the innuendo or not.

you take your tshirt off as well, tossing it onto the pile that everyone is making on the sofa, revealing swimsuits underneath their clothes. rafe also undresses, but slowly and quietly.

you tug your yoga pants down next, having kicked your shoes off upon entering the boat. you turn towards rafe, always checking in with him, seeking him out amongst the crowd.

rafe smiles at you, his eyes dropping subtly down your body, quickly checking out your pale lilac swimsuit before he sees a different shade of purple, this time blossoming around your knees.

hayden seems to notice too, a smirk growing on his face when he sees the localized bruises.

“what the fuck did you do?” rafe grunts out before he can stop himself and use the calming methods you so carefully taught him.

“what?” hayden turns to look at rafe, but he’s already charging at him. rafe shoves hayden backwards, making him stumble but he manages to maintain his footing.

“rafe, chill!” you shout, grabbing at his arm.

“did he-did you fucking blow him?” rafe questions, pointing to your knees. “how did you get those bruises?” “jesus, rafe!” you take a step back, but don’t drop your grip on his arm, not sure if he would try to pull away. “you seriously ask me that in front of all our friends? for your information i was working out in the garden yesterday and bruised my knees kneeling on the pavers. but thanks for embarrassing me.”

you drop his arm when you feel tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning and sprinting into the interior of the boat.

you throw yourself onto the bed in one of the two bedrooms, hiding your face in the white pillow as you cry.

“y/n…” rafe says softly. you don’t jump at his voice, you expected him to follow you, but you don’t feel like talking to him.

“please, y/n.” rafe pleads, and you feel his weight dip the bed down as he climbs onto the mattress.

“stop it.” you whine when rafe pulls you into him, but you don’t struggle as he cuddles into you, pressing a kiss against your hair. you’ve cuddled rafe before, of course since you’ve been friends for so long, but never with this little clothing on, and you are very aware of how much of his bare skin is touching yours.

“i didn’t mean to embarrass you, y/n. i just… i just got so angry thinking about you possibly doing anything with hayden. i don’t like him. he’s not good enough for you.”

“why would you even think i would do that though? you know im a virgin.”

the words shock rafe, and you can physically feel him tense up. you pick up your head to look at him, brows furrowed together.

“i-i didn’t know that.” rafe just assumed you lost it to one of your short term boyfriends.

“no… no i would have told you, rafey. you’re my best friend, i… you told me when you lost yours.” you remind rafe of when he was 16 years old and had sex for the first time, calling you only an hour after to confide in you, partly hoping you would get jealous.

“i thought you knew that i wouldn’t want to hear about you sleeping with someone. i guess i just figured you kept it to yourself for my sake.” rafe doesn’t realize the implication of his words as they flow from between his lips.

“why would i?- wait… you like me?” you blink up at him.

rafe pauses. now is as good as time as any, especially with the growing threat of hayden and other guys who aren’t scared of rafe potentially taking you away from him. “yes. i love you. i think i’ve loved you since first grade.” “holy shit, you asshole!” you shout, and it’s not the reaction rafe was expecting as he tenses, waiting for you to run off, or get mad, but instead your shout turns into a laugh, “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!” and then your lips are on his, finally feeling the perfect meld of your mouths together as rafe quickly snaps into action, his lips moving against yours as he cups your face.

“i love you too, in case it wasn’t obvious.” you whisper against his mouth before resuming the kiss.

“thank fuck, i was ready to murder hayden just because i thought you liked him.” rafe laughs, tugging on your waist to bring your bodies even closer together, leaving his large hand resting against your bare back.

“pshht.” you shake your head. “he’s not even half the man you are.”

“holy shit, i love you.” rafe repeats, taking you in for another kiss.

“my friends are never gonna believe that we finally got together.” you giggle. “i think they’ve all placed bets.”

“your friends?” rafe shakes his head. “baby, i think even our parents have.”

“i… i’m really happy we admitted are feelings.” you say shyly, a blush covering your cheeks as you look down, breaking eye contact. “everyone told me that you liked me too but i was too nervous to ruin what we had.”

“hey, it’s okay.” rafe says softly. “we have forever this way.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes again as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head into his bare chest.

“gosh, i can’t wait to go tell everyone.” you admit with a giggle.

“yeah? wanna go get in the water too?” rafe asks, unsure if your friends waiting for your argument to be over to swim.

“hell yeah.” you slide off the bed, rafe taking a minute to check out your body, not hiding his heated gaze as you catch him.

“holy shit, you are checking me out!”

“duh, you’re my girl now.” rafe smirks, also getting off the bed, placing an arm around your shoulder. “gonna give you bruised knees for a different reason, baby.”

“wait, rafe-” you begin, suddenly not feeling like swimming anymore, but he pulls you out onto the deck, seeing all your friends sitting awkwardly on the sofas, waiting for whatever argument to be over with.

“don’t worry baby.” rafe drops his mouth to your ear, making sure your friends can’t hear. “we can talk about that virginity of yours later.” rafe doesn’t give you a second to respond, placing his fingers on your chin and tilting your head towards him to press a kiss to your lips to the chorus of all of your friends letting out woops and claps, along with shouts of “finally!”

“i told you!” tiffy shouts, holding her hand out towards stephanie. “you owe me 20 bucks!”

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actuallysaiyan · 5 months ago

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A Good Night's Sleep(Aizawa Shota x Fem!Reader)

warnings: somnophilia, pet names, wet dreams, unprotected sex, smut, kissing word count: 1.2k pairings: Aizawa Shota x Fem!Reader summary: Shota is tired, so you two take a nap. you're awoken by your own wet dreams leaving you so needy... a/n: here's my first and CERTAINLY not my last Aizawa smut ;) banners by @adornedwithlight

Finding time to be intimate could be difficult considering the lives you decided to lead. Even for him to admit that he even needed to be intimate could be so challenging at times. You knew that Shota loves you, but the way he liked to show it would make most people wonder if they were even in a relationship.

The man rarely even gave you the time of day whenever you could find a moment alone together. You wondered if sometimes he still liked to act mysterious with you, even if it was just to keep things interesting between the two of you. He must just be trying to keep you guessing.

And considering everything going on lately, you wondered if he was even getting enough sleep. You always worried about that aspect of him. It just was part of you that you could never shake, even if you had known him for so long.

So the moment you two finally have some time alone, you’re not surprised at all to find that Shota wants to nap. He looks even more tired than you’re used to, so you don’t say no. The look in his eyes is one that seems to be almost pleading with you to get into the bed with him.

With the curtains pulled back, the lights down low and you’re both in bed, it’s the perfect recipe for a good nap. Shota nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent greedily. He doesn’t even show you this much affection whenever he’s around you during the day.

He murmurs a soft word of praise and a sweet “mmm…love you.” before you can hear him snoring slightly. You rest against him, closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Your dreams are filled with the most lustful images. The man you’re snuggling with is now on top of you, kissing you, undressing you. His hands can’t move fast enough. His eyes, though tired, are dark and full of desire. He’s lighting this fire deep inside of you.

The more Shota kisses you, the more you find yourself getting aroused. Your thighs are sticky with your slick. His name falls from your lips in soft pants. He’s just about to spread your thighs when you are jolted awake.

The sensation of his hands is still so real on your body. Yet, Shota is sleeping right next to you. Your neediness gets the best of you, so you roll over and you wrap your arm around him to pull him closer. He doesn’t wake up; instead he lets out this soft moan.

Your hand wanders under the blankets, feeling the toned muscles of his body. He grunts softly, but still he lays sleeping. You know that just your touch is enough to make him feel things, but he’s not roused out of his sleep just yet.

Slowly, you push your hand into his baggy sweatpants. The minute you touch the tip, he’s breathing heavily through his nose. You weren’t expecting him to be hard, so you wonder if maybe he’s been having similar dreams as you just had.

You begin to stroke him, using the precum from the tip to lubricate him. Still, he’s sleeping despite all the stimulation. Chuckling to yourself quietly, you lean in to begin pressing kisses to his neck.

Suddenly, you feel him turning to look at you. There’s this dark look in his eyes. He’s not quite fully awake, but he’s conscious now. He looks at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Shota asks.

You stammer, “I-I…was just…”

“You were just what? Touching me? You better finish the job then, trouble.”

Your eyes widen a little. He grips your wrist, making you move it to stroke him once more. The way he’s beginning to buck up into your hand lazily makes the need that started to pool between your legs become even more apparent.

“You wanted to wake me up from my nap, huh? Just for a little attention, isn’t that it?” His questions make your head spin. “I know you’ve been wanting this.”

It’s not long before you find yourself on your back, your legs spread just like in your dream. Shota pulls down your pants, exposing your bare sex to him. There’s a mischievous, almost cheeky, smirk on his face as he slips his cock between your soaked folds.

“You’re such a little problem, you know that? Can’t a man just take a nap without a problematic little girl needing her pussy filled?”

There’s a moment where his eyes are scanning you completely. You always wonder what kind of look he’s giving you. Is he trying to erase your quirk momentarily so you won’t fuss and fight back or is he just assessing how aroused you are?

You let out a strangled moan as he pushes into you. You look down at where you’re connected and your jaw drops a little as you see him completely sheathed inside of you. Then without warning, Aizawa slumps against you.

“Just lemme sleep…” his moans are a little more sleepy now. “Need sleep.”

Despite his pleas for more rest, his hips begin to move. He’s so deep inside of you like this, you can’t help but hold onto him. Your nails dig into the meat of his back as he’s pumping into you over and over. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot inside of you, the one that brings white hot pleasure to your core.

“Are you always this wet when we nap together?” His voice is deep and raspy, his breath hot on your neck. “I bet you are.”

You can’t even think of the words to argue back. Your brain is mush from the slow, painful pace he’s using. The only thing that can come from you are such cute whines. Aizawa has to bite his lip and take a deep breath to prevent himself from spilling inside of you too quickly. He didn’t realize just how pent up he was until just now.

The minute your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him in for that lazy, sloppy kiss, Shota knows he’s probably done for. He stills himself, allowing himself a moment to rethink everything. Then he smirks as he licks his thumb, bringing it down to your swollen nub.

“Haaaah—Shota, please…”

Your whines are heavenly, but oh so bratty. He thinks to himself that he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but the comfort of having your silky walls clenching around him as he lazily pumps into you is the most soothing thing in the world.

“You were asking for this and now you can’t take it?” He questions, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Oh you are trouble, aren’t you?”

He leans in to nip at your bottom lip before kissing you. Every move is almost calculated to tip you over the edge, despite his sleepiness. His eyes may be half-closed, but he’s keeping a very careful watch on you.

You scramble to try and grab onto him as you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Aizawa doesn’t let up, instead he keeps such a consistency that drives you crazy. With a shudder, you fall off the edge, pulling him with you.

Warm, thick ropes of cum begin to fill you up. Your arms pull him in even deeper, if possible. Your moans are so sickeningly sweet, Aizawa swears he’s cumming harder than he has in a long time. And then slowly, he’s stopping his pace.

“Now,” he murmurs as he nuzzles against your breasts. “Let me sleep, trouble.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024-- do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

#bacon.writes #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #shota aizawa #shota aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x female reader #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shota x you #aizawa smut #eraser head #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha aizawa

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months ago

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Second Time's The Charm V

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You feel terrible

"Mama! Mama! Maaama!" Little Maya said.

At two years old now, she was fairly active and enjoyed such things as continually saying your name and poking you in the cheek.

"Maya-bear," You croaked out," What is it?"

You felt horrible. A sudden bout of flu came over you this week leading to you spending all Thursday and Friday in bed and not coming into work.

Alexia had been out of her mind but you'd still insisted on making her go into work.

"Mami made pancakes." Maya wiggled her whole body in excitement and you allowed yourself a weak smile, reaching a hand out to cup her face.

"That sounds nice Maya but I'm still feeling sick."

"Feel sick?"

"Yes, Mama is feeling sick. My tummy is being mean."

Maya waved an accusing finger at your tummy. "Bad tummy!"

"That's right so Mama can't have pancakes right now."

"No pancakes?"

"None for me. Why don't you head down and tell Mami that I'm giving you all of mine?"

Maya was loathe to leave you but after much coaxing, she disappeared from your room. That let you bolt off to the en-suite to throw up your guts.

You'd spent most of last night hunched over the toilet bowl so it wasn't much of a shock that you found yourself there now.

"Amor?" Alexia asked, creaking the door open," Maya said you still felt ill?"

"I'm fine," You insisted," Go and help Maya with her pancakes before she gets all syrupy."

"Amor..." Alexia looked close to tears. She'd always been like this whenever you got sick.

Eli used to joke that Alexia would come it in a sympathetic sickness whenever you were ill.

She took it as a personal failing whenever any of her family were ill, always stressing about what she could have done differently even when none of it was her fault.

Just last week Maya had gotten a bad case of the sniffles and Alexia refused to touch her after remembering that Pina had sneezed in her general direction which prompted Alexia to blame herself as to why Maya had gotten ill.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked.

"Ale, I love you but please go downstairs. I don't want to get you sick too. You've got matches coming up."

"Amor, I will gladly get sick if it means helping you."

"Alexia, go. We've got a little girl who I know is about to cover her head in syrup. Go look after her please."

You remained hunched over the toilet as Alexia pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head before retreating out of the room.

As soon as she was gone, you reached for the cabinet under the sink.

It was long shot and you knew it.

The rate of first round successful IVF was stupidly low. You were a doctor. You knew that.

Fertility was never your speciality but you knew the statistics. You knew the process. You know all the risks attached and everything that could go wrong.

But, still, you reached for the pregnancy tests that Alexia kept there.

You had been a little confused when you first moved into the house to find Alexia was keeping pregnancy tests in your bathroom. When you questioned her, she'd confessed it was make her come on her period.

She swore up and down that when she was late, she would pee on the stick and suddenly start her period the next day. Apparently Alba did the same and Eli swore by it.

You'd never heard of such a thing but you were glad for your wife's absurdity in this moment as you tore open the packaging.

"Maya-bear!" Alexia said," Let's keep the syrup in our mouths please."

Maya didn't answer her, merely shovelled more and more torn up pancake down her throat as Sinky and his sisters padded around ready to catch any dropped pieces.

Lady sat at the bottom of the stairs, pawing at the closed baby gate.

"I'm sorry, Lady," Alexia said," But she's sick. She can't have any visitors right now."

Alexia felt so defeated as she stared up the stairs. She was meant to be the family protector and she prided herself on doing a good job but this whole week had been one defeat after another.

First, Maya got pushed over at nursery and came home with a big bump on her head. Next Mr Stinky had to be taken to the vet for a strange lump on his legs that the results for still hadn't come back. Then Sinky and his sisters had lost their favourite ball toy at the park and some disgusting boy dog tried to mount Lady while Alexia was looking for it.

It seemed to be a terrible end to a terrible week when you suddenly fell ill and had to stay home.

You'd barely moved since getting sick, barely able to gather enough strength to shower or eat before hunching over the toilet to throw it all up.

Alexia swiped her tears away furiously as she dragged a wet cloth over Maya's chubby cheeks.

"Mami!" Maya giggled," No!"

"No?" Alexia repeated," You're all covered in syrup!"

"I like syrup!" Maya insisted," Syrup, my favourite!"

"Don't tell your Mama, she will be sad if you don't like her cooking anymore."

Maya looked like she was considering it but turned her head immediately at the sound from upstairs.

"Alexia!"

Lady barked loudly at the noise, jumping up and down and Sinky and his sisters joined in as well. Even Mr Stinky looked up from his regular napping spot at the noise.

Alexia nearly tore a fingernail off trying to unclip Maya out of her high chair and practically vaulted over the still closed baby gate to hurry towards you.

The last time she had heard you so panicked was when you were nearly married and appeared at her house in tears after being kicked out by your parents.

You were sitting on the toilet when Alexia and Maya burst in.

"Amor?" Alexia fell to her knees in front of you, still balancing Maya on her hip. "What is it? What's wrong? Tell me, it's okay. I'm here!"

In answer, you showed her your positive pregnancy test.

"I...You're?"

You nodded through your tears.

"We're having another baby, Alexia."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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goblin-jr · 2 months ago

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And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

Part 7 of 12

Synopsis: Kissing butt and moving forward

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: sleazy old men being creepy, mild mentions of SA

Before you start this chapter, please listen to this song, this is pivotal to understanding y/n’s thoughts during the last scene. https://open.spotify.com/track/4zXuYQNDmw3dlauyc8q3Kd?si=646c78b4897948b6

masterlist

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The country club was alive with the usual hum of polished interactions: the soft clinking of glasses, the shuffle of wait staff in black and white uniforms, and the low murmur of conversation filling the grand, gilded ballroom. Y/N moved through the space, her tray steady in her hands as she refilled water glasses and delivered drinks with practiced ease. Her eyes darted from task to task, trying to stay focused, but something gnawed at her.

She could feel the weight of JJ’s breath on her lips, the sting of his casual response when she’d told him how she felt. The memory of his pity-kiss made her stomach turn even now. It was hard to escape the feeling that something had irrevocably shifted between them. She didn’t want to think about it—not today. Today, she wanted answers, or at least a sign that things hadn’t fallen apart entirely.

She caught sight of him across the room, missing the usual smirk as he wiped down a table, leaning over to clear away dirty glasses. She walked toward him with a steadiness she didn’t feel. A few steps from his table, she hesitated, unsure what to say, but the chance to confront him felt too important to waste. Her heart was already racing before she even spoke his name.

"JJ."

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers for the briefest moment, but something in his expression shifted immediately. There was no warmth, no recognition of the awkwardness between them. He glanced over her shoulder, then back at her. “Not now, Y/N. I’m busy.”

The dismissal was swift, practiced. He didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze flitted away, settling on the next table with a customer’s request. As if she wasn’t there at all.

Y/N stood still for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. His back was already turned before she could say anything more. She swallowed hard, forcing her feet to move, the space between them suddenly feeling vast.

Before she could retreat further into herself, her manager appeared in her line of sight, his face set in the familiar, detached mask he wore when he had work for her.

“Y/N,” he called sharply, already holding out a clipboard. “You’re on for the private event tonight. Bikini server.”

The words hit her like a punch in the gut. She didn’t need to hear anything else. She knew exactly what that meant. A private party—one of those parties. The kind that everyone whispered about in the break room, and which most staff avoided at all costs. But there was no avoiding it when it was assigned.

Her stomach sank, and her mouth went dry as she reached for the clipboard without a word.

“Get dressed and head to the back. The event’s starting soon.”

She nodded mechanically, but inside, her pulse was already hammering. She had never done this before, however she heard about it from the other servers. the uncomfortable leers, the condescending smiles, the silent assessment of her in a bikini by a room full of men who didn’t care who she was as long as she was serving drinks. It was part of the job. She didn’t have a choice.

As the manager walked away, a memory crept into her mind. The last time she’d been assigned to a private event like this, JJ had intervened. She remembered him, laughing loudly and knocking over a tray of glasses in a clumsy but deliberate mess. His excuse to their boss had been thin, but it had worked—he’d saved her from being part of that atmosphere.

“If it ever happens again, just call me,” his words echoed in her mind. “I’ll have your back.”

She was grateful then. Grateful for the distraction, the sudden sense of safety, the way he’d made sure she didn’t have to endure the sleazy men and their eyes. But now, as she stood in the hallway, her phone gripped tightly in her hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on her own this time.

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She scrolled through her contacts until JJ’s name appeared. The hope that maybe—just maybe—he would come through for her again flashed in her chest. He promised she thought, swallowing hard.

She hit the call button, and the phone rang once. Then again.

With every passing second, her heart beat harder against her chest. The ringing seemed to stretch on forever, her breath quickening as the screen flashed with each new ring.

"Come on, JJ," she whispered, tapping the phone to her ear again.

The voicemail kicked in before she could brace herself. The robotic voice was the final blow.

She let out a shaky breath, her thumb hovering over the screen. Then, without thinking, she recorded a message, her voice quieter than she meant it to be.

“Hey, JJ… it’s Y/N. I, uh, I just wanted to remind you of what you said last time. You know, if something like this happens again, you’d have my back? Well, I’m going to that party tonight. And I could really use you here. But, you know, whatever. If you’re busy...”

Her voice cracked as she tried to finish, but the words stopped. She felt ridiculous, desperate. It wasn’t supposed to sound like this.

She cleared her throat and ended the message, but the silence afterward felt deafening. She hit “send” and stared at the screen, willing him to call her back.

When it went to voicemail, she just stood there for a moment, her heart sinking deeper. Her thumb hovered over the phone, but she didn’t press anything.

He's not coming.

She shoved the phone back into her pocket, the weight of it dragging her down. A last, fleeting sense of hope ebbed away, and she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to let it stop her. She couldn’t.

Her mind whirled, her thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and disappointment. She stuffed the phone into her pocket, straightened her shoulders, and forced her feet to move.

She passed by the staff locker rooms, the faint chatter of colleagues filtering out as they prepped for their own assignments. She moved past them with her head down, barely noticing the stares, her mind consumed by the scene ahead.

The ballroom loomed before her, its golden chandeliers gleaming in the dim light, the sound of clinking glasses and muted conversations pressing against her. She could already feel it—the weight of the men’s eyes, the way they would look at her like she was nothing more than the drinks she was about to serve.

But she kept walking, one foot in front of the other. It was just another job. She had to do this.

She could almost feel the eyes on her as she entered the ballroom. The air felt thick, heavy with expectation. She could already imagine the looks she would get, the comments they would make, the way her stomach would twist every time a man would glance at her with that knowing look.

Just get through it, she told herself. Just get through it.

–

The sound of clinking glasses and low conversation buzzed around Y/N as she awkwardly navigated through the crowd of older men in dark suits, her tray trembling slightly in her hands. She hated the smell of expensive cologne mixing with the stale air of the country club’s ballroom, and even more, she hated the way they looked at her—like she was nothing more than a decoration in a bikini, a piece of scenery for their business deals.

Y/N had been coerced into working this private event by her boss, who couldn’t care less that she was underage and shouldn't be serving drinks to these men. It was a way to make quick cash, and as usual, she had little choice. The job wasn’t worth the pit in her stomach, though. She could feel the eyes on her, too many stares lingering longer than they should. The glances from the men made her skin crawl.

Then, a hand gripped her wrist.

Y/N’s head snapped around to see a man, probably in his sixties, staring at her with a smug grin. The warmth of his hand made her skin crawl as he tugged her closer.

"Hey, sweetheart," he slurred, his breath smelling of whiskey. "Can I get another drink over here?" His eyes lingered too long, the leer obvious.

She tried to pull away, her heart racing. "Please, let go," she said firmly, but he didn’t budge.

The man’s grip tightened as his eyes roved over her body. "You don’t need to be shy, darling."

Without warning, he slapped her hard—his hand making a sickening smack as it landed on her bare skin. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the shock rippled through her, and she stumbled back, barely managing to steady herself. A sting bloomed across her backside, where his hand had landed.

She couldn’t stop the hot wave of humiliation that flooded over her. Her mind screamed for escape, and she bolted, running away from the man and the crowd of leering faces.

Y/N didn’t even know where she was going until she found herself outside, standing in the dark, hands shaking. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. She needed to get out.

"Hey!" A voice called out from behind her, and she turned, startled.

Rafe Cameron stood in the doorway, looking out of place in his designer clothes amidst the worn-out, sea-washed buildings of the country club’s back lot. He must’ve been checking out his yacht nearby. His eyes softened when they landed on her, and it was the first time she noticed how different he looked, how much the usually cocky and aloof guy seemed almost… concerned.

"What happened?" Rafe asked, his voice low and serious, and it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t mocking her.

Y/N’s heart pounded. "I’m fine. Just—just go back inside." She tried to sound confident, but it came out more like a plea.

Rafe stepped closer, his gaze flicking over her. "Don’t bullshit me. You’re not fine." His eyes flickered to her side, where the imprint of the slap was already beginning to show a bruise that would likely darken by morning.

Without thinking, Rafe reached out, his thumb brushing over the mark. His touch was gentle, almost tender, and the contrast between his usual arrogant demeanor and this softness caught her off guard. He leaned down slowly, pressing a kiss to the bruise—just the slightest brush of his lips against her skin.

It wasn’t anything like what the men had done. It was nothing like the way they touched her.

Y/N froze. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the kindness, the way he seemed to care, the way he wasn’t treating her like an object. For the first time in forever, she felt like someone actually saw her.

Rafe pulled back, his eyes searching hers. There was a moment of silence where neither of them knew quite what to say. His eyes softened, but then, Y/N’s voice cracked the tension in the air.

“You kissed my butt.” Y/N blinked, her brows knitting in confusion as she looked at him.

“I—I kissed your bruise. Not your—your butt!” Rafe stammered, his face flushing an almost comical shade of red. “Look, it was an accident, okay? I just saw the bruise, and I wanted to… you know, I don’t know… make it better?”

She fought a smile as she crossed her arms, feeling a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You kissed my butt.”

“No! I—well, I didn’t—okay, I did, but it wasn’t like that,” Rafe blurted out, his hands flying up in a panic as if he could somehow reverse the ridiculousness of the situation. “It was just a reflex, alright? You looked like you were in pain, and I—ugh, God, this is coming out so wrong.”

Y/N couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up, escaping before she could even stop it. The sheer awkwardness of the moment was too much, and she felt the tension break in a way she hadn’t expected.

“You kissed my butt,” she said again, this time with a grin that reached her eyes.

Rafe groaned, his hands rubbing his face in frustration. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this. I swear, I’ve never been this embarrassed in my life.”

But Y/N wasn’t listening to his rambling. She was still laughing, and somehow, it made her feel lighter, like the weight of the world inside her chest wasn’t so suffocating anymore.

Rafe stood there, frozen and awkward, clearly unsure if he should laugh along or hide from the humiliation. But as the moment stretched on, his gaze softened. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against hers.

"You’re not alone, Y/N," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, his usual bravado gone for a second. “I’ve got you.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him. She didn’t feel like a piece of the scenery anymore, didn’t feel like she was something to be discarded or objectified. Rafe had done something stupid, sure, but it was more than that. He hadn’t treated her like a thing; he’d treated her like a person. And despite the chaos, despite the awkward kiss on her backside, for the first time in a long while, she felt seen.

And in that quiet, vulnerable moment, she didn’t hold back. Her heart thumped in her chest as she reached up, pulling him toward her and pressing her lips to his. It was desperate and unguarded, the kind of kiss that said everything they hadn’t said yet.

Rafe’s hands found her waist instantly, his grip firm but gentle, pulling her closer. It wasn’t about the kiss anymore. It wasn’t about the confusion or the embarrassment. For once, Y/N didn’t feel like she was something to be pitied or tolerated. She felt wanted. She felt enough.

When they finally pulled apart, the world felt different, as if everything had shifted on its axis.

Rafe was still watching her, his gaze full of something she couldn’t quite place. But there was one thing she knew for sure now.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice soft but sure.

And in that moment, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore.

---

Bonus

---

A week passed, and life seemed to go back to normal—sort of. Y/N tried to bury the memory of the country club party, but it lingered in the back of her mind, along with Rafe’s unexpected tenderness. The days since have been nothing but amazing. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was everything he’d done. It was like he saw her, really saw her, for the first time.

She was walking to the market when she passed by the country club, feeling the familiar weight of the place she had hoped to forget. Her steps faltered when she saw the manager standing outside, suitcase in hand, looking disgraced.

She blinked, then did a double take. The manager was leaving. Wasn’t he supposed to be working tonight? And wasn’t it just a few days ago that she’d overheard him muttering about having another event to handle?

Curiosity gnawed at her. She approached one of the other servers, trying to sound casual. "Hey, what happened to the manager? He looks... well, he looks like he’s not coming back."

The server looked around nervously before shrugging. “You didn’t hear? He got fired, like, out of nowhere. No one knows why. They said it’s something to do with his behavior at the last event. Real bad stuff.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the adrenaline start to pump through her veins as the pieces began to click together.

---

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and Rafe showed up at her house unannounced, she felt the need to ask. They were sitting on the porch, sharing a silence that felt strangely comfortable, the air still warm from the day’s heat.

She finally broke the quiet. “Rafe… about the manager at the country club.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that cocky grin that always made her stomach flip. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated, watching him closely. “Did you have anything to do with him getting fired?”

Rafe didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her, just took a slow sip of his drink, exhaling with a lazy grin, fully relaxed. “What, you think I got him fired?”

Y/N studied him, her pulse quickening. She could read him well enough now—he was hiding something, but whether it was guilt or pride, she couldn’t tell. “Did you?”

Rafe's eyes locked onto hers, the usual playful spark in his gaze replaced with something deeper. He shrugged like he was too cool to care, but there was a quiet intensity in his gaze. “Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Y/N’s stomach did a flip. There was no regret in his voice—just that casual, confident air that made her feel both at ease and a little... nervous. But it wasn’t just the words; it was the way he said them. Rafe didn’t do things by half-measures, especially not when it came to her.

“I don’t want to be your charity case, Rafe,” she said, her voice steady despite the tightening in her chest. “I don’t want you doing things like that for me.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, the air around him thick with the kind of confidence that made everything else fade into the background. His eyes never left hers. “You’re not a charity case, Y/N.” He set his drink down slowly, his voice dropping an octave, and she felt it in her bones. “I’m not doing anything for you that I wouldn’t do for anyone I care about. But if you think this is me doing you some big favor, you’ve got it all wrong, it's just how I handle things.”

He let the words hang there for a moment, like he was giving her space to process, but the message was clear. He wasn’t some guy looking for recognition, and he wasn’t going to apologize for taking care of things in his own way.

“You’re not weak,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “You don’t need anyone to fix things for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna sit back and let people treat you like shit.”

His gaze softened, his tone just a little more intense, and Y/N felt a rush of something—relief? Gratitude? Maybe a little something else she wasn’t ready to admit.

Rafe wasn’t looking for credit. He wasn’t trying to be her knight in shining armor. He was just doing what came naturally to him: protecting the people he cared about, even if it meant taking down someone who’d crossed the line.

He didn’t say more, but the quiet confidence in his words was enough to make Y/N realize that he had her back—whether she liked it or not. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

-----

Next up: happy times

-----

Taglist:

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty

-----

a/n :)

#obx4 #obx #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader

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theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

Text

TEACHERS PET PT.3 | CL16

an: did someone say his pov? i apologise in advance for how this ends. also im trying to pump out as much content as i can before i start my real girl job at the start of novemeber

wc: 4.5

warnings: MUCHO infidelity

part one | part two |

Charles gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly as he pulled into the parking garage beneath his apartment building. His mind was racing, filled with images he shouldn’t be indulging in, and yet, he couldn’t seem to push them away. The moment outside her apartment—the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d let him kiss her—had been playing on a loop ever since he’d driven off.

He parked the car and sat there for a moment, staring at the concrete wall in front of him, trying to gather himself. He shouldn't have kissed her. He knew that. But the attraction had been building for weeks, simmering beneath the surface in every glance, every stolen moment, every excuse he found to keep her after class.

He could still feel the heat of her body against his, the softness of her lips, the way she’d kissed him back like she’d wanted it as much as he had. But she had a boyfriend. And he was her professor.

This is wrong.

The thought echoed in his head, but it felt distant, as though it was someone else’s voice whispering it to him. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to shake the memory of her lips, the warmth of her breath against his neck, but it was no use. Even as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he could still see her standing there in the streetlight, her chest rising and falling with the same breathless anticipation he’d felt.

He unlocked his door and stepped inside, the silence of his apartment suddenly oppressive. The dim lighting and sleek, modern décor felt cold compared to the heat still pulsing through him. He tossed his keys onto the counter, trying to focus on anything but her, but his mind betrayed him almost immediately.

He imagined her here. Walking around his place, barefoot and wrapped in nothing but one of his shirts, the fabric brushing her thighs. He pictured her wandering to his kitchen, her hair mussed from sleep, a sleepy smile on her lips as she padded toward him. Maybe she'd laugh softly as she caught him staring, her eyes playful, like she knew exactly what kind of power she had over him. And for a minute he felt jealous of her silly little boyfriend who probably got to see that sight often.

Damn it.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to push the fantasy away. It was dangerous to let himself think of her like that, but the image wouldn’t leave him. She was so young, so off-limits, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself.

He sank down onto the couch, staring blankly at the dark screen of his TV. The room felt too quiet, too empty, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake this feeling alone tonight. He needed a distraction. Something to get her out of his head, even if only for a few hours.

His hand instinctively reached for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, stopping on a name he hadn’t seen in a while: Olivia. They had a history—nothing serious, but comfortable. She was someone he could call when he needed to forget, when he needed to lose himself in something physical, without the complications of attachment.

His finger hovered over the screen for a moment, hesitating. He shouldn’t call her. He knew that. It wouldn’t solve anything. But right now, it felt like the only way to stop thinking about the one person he shouldn’t be thinking about at all.

He tapped the screen, bringing the phone to his ear. It rang twice before Olivia answered, her voice warm and familiar.

"Well, well," she said with a teasing lilt. "It’s been a while. What’s the occasion?"

"I was thinking about you," he lied, his voice low and smooth, trying to push down the guilt gnawing at him. "Are you free tonight?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a soft laugh. "You’re lucky I don’t have plans. I’ll be over in twenty."

He hung up, tossing the phone onto the coffee table as he leaned back against the couch, trying to force himself to relax. But as the minutes ticked by, all he could think about was her. The student. The girl who had walked into his office that first day with a shy smile, who now occupied far too much of his thoughts. He could see her face so clearly, her lips parted as he leaned in to kiss her, the way her body had instinctively pressed against his.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. A twisted part of him hoped it was her. It was a message from Olivia: "Almost there."

He stood up, running his hands through his hair as he tried to shake off the images swirling in his head. This wasn’t about her. Tonight was about forgetting. About getting some distance from whatever had ignited between him and his student.

When Olivia knocked on the door, he opened it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She stepped inside, giving him a once-over with an approving smirk before leaning in to kiss him. It was familiar, comfortable. But the moment her lips touched his, all he could think about was how different it felt. How wrong it felt.

They moved to the couch, her hands on his chest, her lips trailing down his neck, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Even as Olivia’s fingers slid beneath the hem of his shirt, he couldn’t stop picturing her.

What would she be like here, in his apartment?

He imagined her standing in his bedroom doorway, her eyes heavy with the same desire he’d seen in them earlier tonight. He pictured the way she’d blush as he undressed her, the way her breath would hitch as his hands found her bare skin. The thought made his pulse quicken, heat pooling low in his stomach.

"Uhm, Charles hello? Are you even here" Olivia’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he blinked, realising he hadn’t responded to her in at least a minute.

"Yeah, sorry," he muttered, but even as he said it, his thoughts drifted back to the wrong person.

Olivia pushed him until the back of his knees his the sofa and she straddled him, shifting on his lap, her hands moving more insistently, but it wasn’t enough. None of this was enough to drown out the fire burning in him for someone else. He kissed Olivia, trying to lose himself in the moment, trying to block out the guilt. But as his lips moved against hers, all he could think about was how much he wished it was someone else.

Her lips. Her skin. Her breath.

No matter what he did, she was there in the back of his mind, haunting him, tempting him. And as Olivia’s hands roamed over his body, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if they were her hands instead. How she’d gasp at his touch, how her body would respond to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to silence the thoughts, but they only grew louder.

Eventually, Olivia pulled back, her brow furrowed as she studied his face. "Okay, what’s going on?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation. "You’re not really here, are you?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice thick with frustration—frustration at himself, at the situation. "It’s just...been a long day."

Olivia huffed, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. She stood, grabbing her jacket from the chair and slinging it over her shoulder. "Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you’re not into this tonight, just say so. I didn’t drive all this fucking way for you to act like this"

He stood up, guilt settling heavily in his chest. "It’s not you," he said, trying to smooth things over, but she waved him off.

"Yeah, I know it’s not me," she said sharply. "Whatever’s going on in your head, you need to figure it out."

Without another word, she turned and left, the door closing behind her with a loud slam.

He stood there in the silence of his apartment, the weight of his thoughts crashing back over him like a tidal wave. His mind immediately returned to her—his student. The one person he shouldn’t be thinking about, shouldn’t be wanting.

But he did.

And as he sank back onto the couch, staring at the empty space where Olivia had been, he knew that nothing was going to make this go away.

Charles sat behind his desk, trying to focus on the stack of papers in front of him. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over his office, but he barely noticed. His mind was still a mess from the night before, from thoughts of her. He hadn’t been able to shake the memory of their kiss or the way his body had betrayed him, craving her even as he tried to distance himself. Even calling Olivia hadn’t worked; it had only made everything worse.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. It had only been a few hours since he’d been in the office, but she was still there, in the back of his mind, haunting him. Every time he tried to focus on work, her face appeared, her lips parted slightly, her eyes dark and teasing.

He needed to get a grip. This was crossing lines—lines he shouldn’t even be near. She was a student. She had a boyfriend. But the thought of her in his office again made his pulse quicken in a way that was becoming all too familiar.

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat, straightening in his chair. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and there she was—her. Standing in the doorway with that familiar mix of confidence and shyness that always threw him off balance. She was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, but somehow, it felt different now. Everything about her felt different now.

"Professor Leclerc," she said, her voice soft as she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. "I was hoping I could ask for some help with an assignment."

His heart skipped a beat, the way it always did when she was near. He forced himself to remain composed, giving her a nod as he gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Of course. What’s the issue?"

She walked over, moving with a slow, deliberate grace that set his nerves on edge. She sat down, crossing her legs in a way that drew his attention for a brief second before he snapped his eyes back to her face.

"It’s for another module," she said, sliding her notebook onto the desk between them. "Professor Gasly’s class, actually. It’s...similar to what you taught us last term, his is the History of France through Literature, so I thought maybe you could give me some advice."

"Gasly?" Charles raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his voice neutral. "He’s more than capable. Why didn’t you go to him?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering up to meet his in a way that made his pulse jump. Then, she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to send a ripple of tension through him.

"Because you do it better."

His throat tightened, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. "Pardon?"

She gave him a soft, almost playful smile. "You teach better."

He swallowed, trying to maintain control, but the way she was looking at him, the way her words lingered in the air—it was impossible to ignore. There was something different about her today. Something deliberate in the way she spoke, the way she held herself. And then, almost as if to confirm his suspicions, he felt it—her foot. It slid up against his calf, just lightly, but enough to send a jolt of awareness through him.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes flicked to hers. She was still smiling, that same soft, teasing smile, but now there was something else in her gaze. Something that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Is...is that so?" he managed to say, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He should stop this. He knew he should stop this. But the warmth of her foot against his leg, the subtle pressure of it moving higher—it was making it difficult to think straight.

"Yes," she said, her voice almost a purr now, her eyes never leaving his. "I always seem to understand things better when you explain them."

He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting to her touch. His pulse was racing, heat pooling in his stomach as her foot continued its slow, teasing movement up his leg. He should stop her. He should say something, push her away, remind her that this was completely inappropriate. But the words stuck in his throat, and instead, he found himself leaning forward, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as if he needed to hold on to something solid.

"What’s the assignment about?" he asked, his voice tight as he tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

She leaned back in her chair, her foot still resting against his leg, but now she seemed to relax, as if she’d gotten the reaction she wanted from him. She reached for her notebook, flipping it open casually as if nothing had just happened.

"It’s about narrative structures," she said, her tone suddenly more professional, though there was still a glint in her eye. "Professor Gasly is focusing on how different forms of storytelling can influence the reader’s emotional response. But his examples are so dry, you know? I thought you might have a better way of explaining it."

He stared at her for a moment, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of her foot against his leg. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, his skin still buzzing from her touch. But he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, even though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to do something else entirely.

"Well..." He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "Narrative structures are...complex. There’s a lot to unpack. It’s not just about the form, but how it interacts with the content—"

As he spoke, he felt her foot move again, this time trailing up his calf in a way that was both subtle and devastatingly effective. His words faltered for a moment, his hands gripping the desk tighter as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"You seem tense," she said softly, her lips curling into that teasing smile again.

He shot her a sharp look, his mind torn between wanting to stop this and wanting to see where it would go. "This isn’t appropriate," he said, though his voice lacked the firmness he intended.

She tilted her head, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them. "Maybe not," she said, her foot moving higher, "but I don’t think either of us wants to stop."

The tension between them was palpable now, thick and suffocating. He could feel the pull of her, the magnetic attraction that had been building for weeks, and it was taking everything in him not to close the distance between them. But then, a sharp buzz interrupted the moment, and his eyes flicked to her phone, which had lit up on the desk between them.

Her gaze shifted to the screen, and suddenly, her expression changed. The teasing light in her eyes flickered out as she stared at the message.

Logan: Have you seen my laptop charger?

For a moment, neither of them moved. The reality of the situation crashed down on them like cold water, and he could see the guilt flicker across her face, mirroring the same guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

“I’m going to go, I need to help him.” Even though he had seen the message, she didn’t have to clarify who him was.

She stood up slowly, her notebook tucked under her arm, the teasing smile still playing on her lips. The charged moment between them hadn’t dissipated, even as she turned toward the door, ready to leave his office. Charles sat frozen in his chair, his heart still pounding from the subtle pressure of her foot against his leg, the warmth of her touch lingering on his skin.

This was wrong. He knew it. But as she reached for the door handle, something inside him snapped—something primal, something that had been building between them for weeks, tightening with every stolen glance, every brush of hands, every lingering look.

"Thank you for the help, Professor," she said, her voice soft, almost too casual, like she wasn’t aware of the storm she’d just stirred in him.

He stood up without thinking, his chair scraping against the floor, the sound cutting through the tension. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him, a question in her eyes.

His pulse roared in his ears as he stepped toward her, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he shouldn’t be doing, everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do. But his feet moved on their own, carrying him toward her, the space between them shrinking with every heartbeat.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, his hand was on the door, pressing it shut behind her. The suddenness of it made her inhale sharply, her body instinctively turning to face him, her back against the door. They were inches apart now, the air between them thick, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Wait," he said, his voice low, rough, as if it had been dragged from somewhere deep inside him.

She blinked up at him, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, her eyes darted to his, and in that moment, he saw it—the same desire, the same need reflected back at him.

This is wrong, the voice in his head screamed, but his body wasn’t listening. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers curling into the soft strands of her hair, and then, without another thought, he pulled her toward him and kissed her.

The kiss was fierce, desperate—like all the tension, all the forbidden longing between them had finally exploded into something they could no longer control. She gasped against his lips, but instead of pulling away, she pressed into him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as if she’d been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

Her lips were soft, warm, moving against his with a hunger that mirrored his own. His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them, until he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his chest.

He kissed her harder, deeper, his mind a blur of want and need. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched into him, her body responding to his in a way that sent a surge of heat through him.

But even in the midst of the kiss, a small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to stop. This was a line they couldn’t cross—a line they were already crossing. She was his student. He was her professor. And this...this could ruin everything.

But her lips, the way she kissed him back with the same reckless abandon, the way her body fit so perfectly against his—it was intoxicating, and for a moment, he didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care about anything except the way she felt in his arms, the way she was clinging to him like she didn’t want to let go.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against hers as they both stood there, gasping for air, their bodies still pressed together. Her eyes were closed, her lips swollen from the kiss, and the sight of her like this—breathless, flushed, in his arms—made his pulse race all over again.

But the moment the reality of what they’d just done hit him, a wave of guilt crashed over him.

This was wrong. So wrong.

He loosened his grip on her waist, his fingers trembling slightly as he stepped back, putting a sliver of space between them. She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him with a mixture of shock and something else—something that made his heart clench painfully in his chest.

"Professor..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He swallowed hard, trying to steady his racing heart, trying to gather the words he knew he should say. But all he could manage was her name, soft and broken, as if it was a plea. A prayer.

The air between them had shifted completely. The kiss, which had started as a release of tension, was now spiralling into something much more dangerous. Her body was pressed against his, her hands gripping his shirt tightly, pulling him closer, as though she couldn’t get enough of him. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out any rational thought.

Charles could barely think past the feel of her lips on his, the heat of her body against his. This was wrong—he knew it with every logical part of his mind—but his control had snapped. Every line he had drawn, every moral boundary he had tried to maintain had been washed away in the wake of her kiss, her touch.

Her fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from where it had been neatly tucked into his trousers. The feel of her hands slipping under the fabric, cool against his heated skin, sent a shudder down his spine. He groaned against her lips, the sound deep and guttural as he kissed her harder, more hungrily.

His own hands began to roam, unable to stop themselves. They found her waist, then slid upwards, brushing over the soft fabric of her blouse. Before he knew it, he was fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, his fingers trembling slightly, fueled by a need that felt like it had been building for far too long.

She made a small, breathy sound when his fingers brushed against her skin, and it only spurred him on. One button, then another. Her shirt was opening, revealing smooth skin, and his mouth was suddenly desperate to taste her, to explore every inch of her that he had only imagined in fleeting, guilty fantasies.

Her hands moved frantically now, pulling his shirt free and sliding up his torso, nails lightly scraping his skin. The sensation sent a shockwave through him, and he kissed her harder, deeper, feeling like he was on the brink of losing himself completely. He should stop. He knew he should stop. But the way she was responding, the way she clung to him, told him she didn’t want to stop either.

Just as he pulled her shirt open further, his lips trailing down her neck, a loud, jarring sound broke through the heated fog of the moment.

The alarm on his phone.

The sharp, persistent beeping pierced through the haze of desire, yanking them both back to reality in an instant.

For a moment, they both froze, their bodies still tangled together, his hand halfway to her bare skin. The sound was so out of place, so intrusive, that it felt almost surreal. His phone buzzed relentlessly from his desk, a sharp reminder that there was a world outside of this office—one that didn’t care about the chaos unfolding inside it.

He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his forehead still resting against hers. His shirt was rumpled, her blouse half undone, and for a split second, neither of them moved, as if caught in the aftermath of a hurricane.

Charles inhaled deeply, the reality of the situation crashing down on him, but instead of feeling guilt or regret, all he felt was impatience—a need to pick up where they had left off.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her lips swollen from their kiss. There was no awkwardness in her gaze, no second-guessing. Only desire. The kind of desire that made everything else fade away.

The beeping of his phone continued, insistent and irritating. His eyes flickered to the device, and then back to her. His next lecture. Of course. Duty called, but so did she, standing in front of him, half undressed, looking at him like she wanted nothing more than for him to finish what they’d started.

For a moment, he considered ignoring the alarm, cancelling everything for the rest of the day just to stay here with her. The temptation was overwhelming.

But then he let out a soft, low chuckle, dark and husky. "This...isn't over, mon ange."

She bit her lip, a flush spreading across her cheeks, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to fix her shirt. Instead, she stood there, still so close that he could feel the heat radiating off her, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his voice a rough whisper. "Come back tonight. Six p.m."

Her breath hitched, her body leaning into his without hesitation.

She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, filled with heat and something else—anticipation. Her lips parted, but no words came out, just a nod, subtle but unmistakable.

The look in her eyes sent another surge of need coursing through him, but the persistent beeping of his phone was a reminder that the world wouldn’t wait for him, no matter how much he wanted to lose himself in this moment.

Slowly, he released his grip on her, forcing himself to step back, though every instinct told him to pull her back into his arms. The space between them felt like a physical ache, but the promise of later hung between them, heavy and electric.

He adjusted his shirt, trying to bring some semblance of order to his appearance as he crossed the room to silence the alarm on his phone. His fingers shook as he dismissed the reminder for his next lecture.

"Six," he repeated, his voice firmer now as he met her gaze once more.

She stood there for a moment longer, her blouse still undone, a look of raw hunger in her eyes. Then, she nodded again, turning toward the door, her movements slow, deliberate. She buttoned up her shirt but didn’t bother to tuck it back in as she left his office, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

Charles stood there for a long moment after she was gone, staring at the closed door, his chest still tight with everything he was feeling. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, his mind already racing ahead to what would happen later tonight.

Six o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

part four

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #original character #formula one x reader #ferrari formula one #ferrari formula 1 #ferrari #charles leclerc #logan sargeant #williams racing #carlos sainz #teacher au

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noiriarti · 5 months ago

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The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 3

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink? WC: 6.7k AN: y'all i am SO proud of this chapter!! i'm so so so excited for you all to read it, i loved writing it so much. thank you all so so so much for the love you have been giving this fic, it means the absolute world to me. requests and asks open, as always!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, [Ch. 3], Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 3: Bonding

In the morning, you woke up slowly, with the taste of night-old beer and regret in your mouth. And also a splitting headache. But your bed was really warm, much warmer than usual, and you snuggled into the covers for another minute. Just one more. And then you realized that it wasn't the covers you were snuggling into, but a person. A person who had their arms wrapped around you. The memories surged back--Anakin, the loud music, truth or dare, kissing him, straddling him, his body against yours. You patted his arm a few times, suddenly completely awake. He let out a low noise of annoyance, but you kept tapping him.

"Five more minutes," he groaned, deeper and gruffer than usual. In that voice, you could hardly refuse him. Five more minutes, fine. With his nearness, warm and stable against you, your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You thought back to the night before, how hard he was for you and how smooth and warm his skin had been under your fingers when you teased below his shirt. Those thoughts would have made you horny beyond belief--fuck you right then and there, maybe--but you had the joy of a massive headache that blocked all of those fun thoughts. The light was too bright to close your eyes and drift off, so all you could do was turn around, awkwardly shifting underneath his arm, to look at him.

Anakin had little freckles on his cheekbones, you realized when you looked at him up close. When his face was completely relaxed like this, he had a kind of ethereal serenity about him. You feared that, if you didn't hold him tightly enough, he'd run away and jump into the sea like a selkie, never to be seen again. He was almost inhuman in that moment, all sharp angles and full lips. The morning light kissed his skin like it came from some radiance within him. He wasn't just handsome in the college-jock kind of way, he was truly and deeply beautiful, you realized.

Calling this Anakin a dumbass, an asshole, or a motherfucker felt just wrong. It would be like calling the stars in the sky boring. Laughably silly. With his jaw slack from sleep, he was a marvel, a gift from nature itself, molded and crafted into a careful, wonderous machine of blood, feelings, and thoughts. And he was laying there with you. If this Anakin wanted the prize, the money, the job, whatever, you would give it over in a heartbeat. All of that just didn't matter in this moment. And that was terrifying.

As quickly as you could, you tried to ground yourself in what was really important to you. Creating something meaningful. Winning. You reminded yourself all the times Anakin called your work amateurish, or the way he still denied damaging Barriss's bot. The way he'd raise his hand to argue that your answer was wrong in lecture during second year. Other images flashed in, unbidden. Anakin's kind eyes when he realized you were upset, before your first kiss. Anakin's sweet voice last night, full of respect for you. The way his teammates obviously respected him. You willed your mind to go back to his smug smile and the way he hogged the soldering station.

Anakin shifted a bit, then opened his bleary eyes to the morning light. It wasn't that late, you knew based on the fact that Ahsoka hadn't pounded down your door, but it was a Sunday, so maybe she didn't intend to. You reached for your phone on your nightstand, which was mercifully alive but hanging on for dear life at 3%. There was a text message from Ahsoka.

Slept over at TKD on the couch, heard u got home safe! ;) Go get some!

Ah. So she clearly thought you and Anakin had fucked. Not that you minded, really. Even if he was an asshole, or if you felt however you did about him, he was still hot. You definitely intended to screw his brains out as soon as you felt better. You tapped him again.

"Mmm, good morning," he mumbled out, "what time is it?" You clicked on your phone.

"11:55," you told him. He bolted upright.

"Shit, we slept through breakfast," he said. He was right, you had. Not that you got breakfast much. You shrugged. Anakin's eyes passed over you, catching your mussed hair, the smudges of mascara surrounding your eyes, and last night's now disheveled dress, then appeared to realize that he was, indeed, pantsless in your bed.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was hushed, tentative. He wasn't saying it outright, but you both knew the question was actually do you regret last night? You took a moment before answering him, trying to find the most correct phrasing for how you felt about it. About him.

"Honestly, I--" you started. His eyes widened, and he read into your hesitation a bit too much. Anakin got out of bed instantly, a gesture that would have been more dignified if he didn't have to shimmy out of the comforter and then hop over you to do so. The lack of his warm weight behind you made you feel oddly empty.

"I knew it, I'm so sorry. I'll leave now, I just--" Anakin said as he grabbed his jeans and started putting them on. Were you imagining it, or was he flushed red in embarrassment? It was kind of cute.

"God, you're stupid. Get back here," you said, motioning for him to come back. Anakin paused, his jeans pulled halfway up, then caught your eye. Based on your annoyance, he sensed that this probably wasn't a get-away-from-me type of conversation, so he finished putting his jeans on and buttoning them, then sat down on the edge of your bed. He was still tentative, like if he said or did the wrong thing, this moment would disappear. Anakin perched carefully on the edge of your bed, as far from you as mathematically possible. He probably had run calculations in his head, you thought.

"I was just saying that I'm too hungover, but we should still… Just not right now. My head is killing me." As you spoke, a smile grew on his face, but then he tried to hide it by pressing his lips together, an effect you would have thought worked better if he wasn't so horrible at it.

"Oh," he said, still obviously elated, but then his expression turned to concern, and he scooched an inch closer to you. "Do you have any Tylenol, or, like, electrolytes here?" You shook your head, and he rolled his eyes. "Of course not." He didn't seem to think you capable of planning in advance, which flared annoyance inside you, but you decided to tamp it down. For now.

"Nah, I think I just need water and food. I'm gonna head down to lunch once I get dressed, then the lab," you told him through a yawn.

"Already? You practically live there," he laughed. Nerd, his tone cried.

"Big words from someone who is always there before me," you said reflexively. The retort had come out of your mouth as easily as breathing, and you hoped he didn't hate you for it.

"Touche," he said, though there wasn't any annoyance in it, just a smile. A silence fell between the two of you, and, unlike most times, it was comfortable. You weren't fuming, which was definitely a new one. Anakin looked down at his hands resting on his thighs, then seemed to work up the courage to say something.

"Look, before you go downstairs, can we talk? Actually talk?" What on Earth did that mean?

"You go first," you said. What did he want to talk about? As far as you were concerned, your positions were clear. Maybe you'd fuck tonight, maybe not, and then he'd be out of your system. You could get back to work. Something twinged in your chest, but it was from your hangover.

"Okay, so, um. I think you know that, even though you're literally the worst, I am… attracted to you. Somehow. And that I'd like to, y'know. Do stuff. I just feel weird about it because of the competition," Anakin said. His confession that he was attracted to you stirred something inside you, but you ignored it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, I don't know about you, but if we… did things. I think I'd feel more upset if you won. Not that you will, to be clear, but if someone sabotaged my project and cut off my hands, you might have a shot." You snorted, then smacked his shoulder. He held up his hands, defensively, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"But, I think I'd also feel weird when I win. You've been really helpful. At staying late so that I can use machines, to be clear. So I've been thinking, we're engineers, right? And, most of what we do is optimize. So why don't we optimize this competition? Maybe we could split the prize money. Because if I don't win, you do, and I need that money. Like, really need. And I'd rather get something than nothing at all if you win, and, for that insurance, I'm willing to let you have some of my prize money. And, in exchange, we help each other as much as possible to make sure that the two of us get first and second place."

Initially, you bristled. Giving away some of your hard-earned prize? That motherfucker was trying to take away from your victory. But, then again, with the way your tests were going now, there was no certainty that you'd be able to produce a working prototype by March. And, if you didn't, he'd probably win. Souring his win just a little would probably feel really good, you reasoned, given how full of himself he was now. The idea wasn't horrible, you thought. You decided to be honest, even though it almost killed you.

"You'll only hear me say this once--and don't you dare tell fucking anyone--but I don't know if I'll win. It's probably rigged in your favor, anyway." You ignored the indignant "hey!" Anakin let out, and continued. "So sure. That works for me."

You held out your right hand for him to shake. The sight was probably hilarious, given that you were still in bed with last night's dress and last night's makeup, but you were deadly serious. Anakin shook your hand, still smiling, and then pulled you up.

"C'mon, get dressed. Don't wanna miss lunch, too, or else we'll never see the lab in the daytime!"

Two hours later, you found yourself on the shuttle to the engineering building. You'd probably walk back long after the shuttle system stopped running, so you wanted to spare yourself one walk in the biting cold. Anakin was sitting next to you--the two of you and Ahsoka had eaten together, and you had spent most of the time getting questioning glances from her. His thigh was warm against yours in the cramped shuttle seats, and you caught him smiling at you once, which made your heart flutter.

You were not alone in the lab. You decided not to question why that was disappointing. On the upside, you got to see Barriss, who was in the corner of the lab, tapping something out on her phone. When she saw you, she came up to you and asked you about how you were doing, and you answered honestly. Tired.

Asajj was on the other side of the room and shot you a glance, but you ignored it. She wasn't your favorite member of the engineering department, but she was an environmental engineer. Not your circus. In the few classes you'd shared, she was kind of a bitch, actually. Barely acknowledged you. She narrowed her eyes at Anakin when he followed you into the lab.

You kept chatting with Barriss for a while, catching up. You felt like you hadn't seen her in ages, especially since she got a job working as an admin assistant for the department. She told you about her new idea for a thesis, some sort of collapsible electric bicycle, and how she was trying to make a better replacement for electric scooters. She pulled up her chair to sit next to your lab bench while you tinkered with your prototype, peppering in some questions about it. You lied through your teeth. It was going great, actually. You were more than on track. You had passed your initial tests with flying colors. Right as she was about to leave, you had worked up the nerve to say the truth, that you were terrified of how it was going. She would be the only person you'd ever admit that to--God knows you wouldn't tell Anakin.

Well, actually, now that you were in your agreement, maybe you could. The idea made you feel scared, honestly. What if he sent you on a wild goose chase? While you were thinking, Barriss said goodbye and rushed off to go get a late lunch, leaving just you, Anakin, and Asajj in the lab.

Now that Barriss was gone, you let yourself deflate. Pretending to do something productive while she watched killed you a little bit, and you found yourself not wanting to do anything else today. Maybe eat some pasta and sleep. Anakin came up to your bench a few times, checking to see how stuff was going, but you weren't really feeling up to engaging with him. You fended off his questions for several hours as you agonized over your failed test, checking the software's code over and over. It still worked on all the test cases other than the one where it really mattered, the one that took it from being a model on your computer to a device that looked at real, physical eyes. Sometime right before dinner, Anakin came up to your desk again, looking frustrated.

"Hey," his voice was low, so that Asajj couldn't hear. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Why do you want me to?" You couldn't help it. You were being defensive, and you felt guilty the moment the words left your lips. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Because…" he trailed off, expression inscrutable, then continued after a moment, "We promised to help each other. I just want to help, honest." You studied his completely earnest face, so open. You faltered, for a moment. Even though you'd had that nice conversation earlier, you couldn't help but still see his face biting out a mean comment, or his sweet smile when he told you the circuit design you had drawn in freshman year for your final project looked fine, even though it had glaring errors. You could handle this on your own. Maybe, just maybe, if you got desperate, you could ask him. But not right now.

"I--It's fine. I think I just need to work on it a bit more." That seemed to placate him, all the way until you told him that you were going to go back home, to have dinner and study, then call it a night. He gave you that same inscrutable expression, which was kind of starting to annoy you, and wished you luck.

You, in fact, did have dinner, but you couldn't study. The equations swam in front of your eyes, all of them turning into questions of focal distance and refraction. You tried for two hours, and it was nine already, so you decided to switch tasks. Maybe now you would make some progress on your thesis.

And, so, the minutes ticked past as you sat alone in your bedroom, flipping through pages and googling random things like "refraction of printer paper." Ahsoka was studying for some exam she had tomorrow, and she said she'd be out late at the library, so you had room to spread out. You found yourself pouring cups of tea in the kitchen more often than was technically productive, and, more than a couple of times, you wanted to throw your prototype against a wall.

It was 11 when you caved and texted Anakin for help. It had been almost a week since you had this issue, and you were really getting to be behind, so this qualified as desperate. And if he was going to make fun of you, so be it. You cringed a bit when you saw that his contact name was still Asshole, a change made in anger in junior year when he called your group project idea the most boring thing he'd ever heard.

You: U up?

Asshole: bffr did you actually just send me a u up text Asshole: yes i am up

You: Can you come over? You: To help with an optics question

Asshole: yes Asshole: be there in 10

You: Thank you

Asshole: course

You changed his contact name back to Anakin. He deserved that much, at least. And, in the ten minutes before he came, you changed into some kind of lacy set of lingerie you'd bought the last time you went clubbing. Just in case. When you were with Anakin, there was always a chance things would go there, even if you called him over for a math issue. You threw your favorite comfortable pair of shorts back on, along with a loose Coruscant U shirt.

When he arrived, looking upsettingly hot in the bomber jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans he was wearing, you led him to your room, trying not to imagine the other reasons you might bring him there at night. Once he understood what your project was trying to do, his fingers scrolled the code you had written. He asked the right questions about various modules you'd used, then turned his attention to the hardware. He re-ran the tests, then grabbed your prototype and moved your detector around the room a bit.

Twenty minutes later, he had a diagnosis.

"I'm afraid the reason your machine doesn't work is that… you're stupid."

"What?" If you didn't need his help so badly, you would have smacked him.

"Yeah, look. First of all, you're getting a false negative from the fact that your code says to output a 'no glaucoma' response whenever it doesn't see glaucoma. So you could point it at the wall and it'd tell you that it doesn't have glaucoma, because, technically, it doesn't. And it's not reading either of these images accurately because, look, when you hold the paper like this," he lifted it up at a diagonal, "you can see that there's some reflection of light off the ink you used to print it. There isn't that in the training images you showed it, so it doesn't read it right. I bet if you did this whole thing on an actual eye with glaucoma, not a printed picture, you'd be fine," he said. "You've spent so much time hooking up the camera that you didn't spend enough time on making a good test, that's all. And, also, you need to make sure there's a way for the program to recognize whether something is an eye or not. That would also be helpful."

A certain calm took over him when he started explaining, like you saw in him when he was doing something particularly difficult. Those were the moments you found him most attractive, and, right now, the first time he was helping you for no other reason than that you asked, you thought this might be the most attractive you've seen him. His hands, gesturing. His eyes, sparkling. I want to kiss him. The thought propelled you to stand up, so that you were closer to his height.

"Thank you, Anakin. I mean it. As much as it hurts to admit… you're probably right," you said. After a beat, you continued, your voice lower than before. "And I'm really glad you came tonight." The confession slipped out of your lips like a secret, quick and quiet. Anakin's body was so close to you, you could have pressed yourself against him if you just leaned forward.

"You're welcome," he said in the same husky tone, his gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips. The air was charged with something, some kind of magnetic pull between the two of you. His softness toward you was new, exciting. Your hand reached out, brushing his wrist before finding his hand. When his eyes widened and he shuddered out a breath, it was like a jolt of lightning. He wanted you, badly. So badly even you could tell. The previous times you had done this, it'd been the heat of the moment driving you. Now, you weren't sure how to get from here to making him horny. This was soft, almost romantic, not angry and sexy and intense. What could you say?

"So, um. Wanna watch something?" Your suggestion was a little bit stupid, but Anakin's lips pressed together as he tried to subdue giggles. He failed, and started full-on cackling. You felt your whole face get warm from embarrassment. Well, damn. There goes that.

"Did you really actually for real just ask me to Netflix and chill with a straight face?" He was almost wiping away tears, apparently. Jesus Christ, you were just trying to break the ice. You smacked his upsettingly hard chest in annoyance.

"Stop laughing! Or else I'll--" you were trying to find some threat, something to say that would actually get him to shut up, when he jumped in.

"You'll what? What are you gonna do about it?" Something in his voice morphed, mocking, and though he was smiling, it reminded you more of the expression an animal makes before catching its prey. Self-satisfied. Smug. So, so fucking handsome.

You didn't need another second before you slammed into him, kissing him with a kind of fever you had only imagined. He'd been riling you up for days, weeks, months at this point, and you were finally going to get him inside you. Your hands found their way into his hair while he pulled you to him by your lower back. When you gently tugged, he let out a little noise deep in his throat and started nudging you toward the bed. The effect you had on him was overpowering, addicting. And, if you were being honest, he was riling you up just as much. His thumbs were playing with the skin that was directly under your tank top, sending little fires to your core.

You finally reached the bed, still kissing sloppily, and then he pushed you down onto it before connecting your lips again and climbing over you. Though he was hovering over you, supported by his arms, Anakin kept his hips just out of reach. You horribly, horribly wanted to feel that hardness pressing against you again. You trailed your hands down his chest, all the way until you reached the button of his jeans. You ghosted your hand over his length, trapped against him in his jeans, and he let out a hiss of air.

"Be patient," he said, going back down to kiss you. He notably didn't remove your hand, but you decided there was something else you'd like to explore first, anyway. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth, you moved your hand up his shirt, running your fingers everywhere they could reach. He was taut and warm, so smooth as you felt the divots of his stomach and the clenched muscles in his chest. You knew he was an athlete, but he was properly built in a lean and strong sort of way. You could have sworn you felt abs under your hand, which was only confirmed when he quickly pulled away from you, then shrugged off his shirt. Anakin could have been carved from marble. Even though you were drunk on him, a piece of you recognized the same otherworldly sense from that morning. Like a statue of Apollo had broken out of stone and stepped into your life, still above you and staring down with such intensity that it made you shiver.

His hands came up under your tank top, sliding up your stomach before they reached your bra. Tentative, warm fingers slipped under the wire and grazed the bottom of your breasts. A positively embarrassing moan slipped out of you. He chuckled against your neck and brought his hands further up until his fingertips traced your nipples. The moan that followed was even needier, and you didn't even care.

"Stop teasing me, Anakin, please take it off," you whined, pressing your chest up into his hands and lifting your arms above your head. He didn't need to be asked twice, and slipped one hand behind your back to unclip your bra--with some ease, which surprised you. Everyone you'd been with before had struggled at least a bit, but apparently Anakin was a natural. You briefly wondered how many other people he'd slept with, but you abandoned the thought when jealousy flared in you. Anakin then brought his hands back down to the hem of your tank top before pulling it off above you, then gently guiding the straps of your bra down, finally exposing you. His eyes over you, hungry, starving.

"Fuck, you're so pretty. You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned before leaning down to your collarbone and trailing wet kisses down until he reached your nipple. His wet, warm tongue darted out to circle your sensitive skin. His right hand came up to play with the other, pinching and pulling and twisting until you were mewling. Then, he let his mouth trail even lower, kissing down until he was right above the drawstring of your shorts.

"Can I take these off, baby?" He was looking up at you with that smirk, the one that meant he knew you wouldn't say no. Of course you wouldn't. You nodded feverishly, and he undid your shorts and drew them down your legs. As he did so, the word stuck in your head. Baby. Did he mean that? Either way, you weren't going to question the way it slicked your pussy. Your shorts landed somewhere at the foot of the bed, but you didn't care. You were too busy watching Anakin take in the lacy underwear you had on.

"Damn. Do you have someone else coming over, or was this all for me?" His tone was light, but he was looking at your pussy like a man possessed. He was practically drooling.

"Shut up, Skywalker, and just take them off." He did so, happily, hooking his fingers under the waistband and drawing them down your legs until they were all the way off. If you thought he was staring before, he was practically glued to you now. One of his hands came up to rub your upper thigh before he drew it closer, inward. By the time he got close your pussy, you were thrusting up and trying to get him to touch you, rub you, finger you, whatever. As long as he put his hand on you, you'd stop feeling so sensitive and needy. But then his finger trailed up to your other knee, perfectly skipping your pussy. That motherfucker. You groaned, and you swore you could hear him chuckle. Asshole.

"Look how soaked you are. Is this all for me?" He was sin itself, a demon sent from hell to tempt you. Well, it was working. You nodded. There wasn't any shame or anger left, just a desperate need to be touched where you wanted it. Needed it.

He trailed one finger to your clit, then ran it down the rest of your slit, letting it linger right on the opening of your pussy. He tapped it once, twice, and it made a wet slapping sound that would have made you a little embarrassed had you been less turned on. But this was Anakin, and he was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, if the rock-hard outline in his jeans was any indication.

Anakin slid the finger inside you and groaned at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as he curled it upward. His thumb came to play with your clit, and you blurted out his name. His eyes shot to you as he took in a ragged breath. So he liked it when you said his name, got it.

And then he lowered his mouth onto your clit, and his name came out of you immediately. When his tongue started moving, fast and warm, rubbing little circles into your clit, you started chanting his name like a prayer. He added another finger inside you, stimulating you everywhere. Your hands tangled into his hair. This had to be the best head you'd ever gotten, you realized. The last person to go down on you was probably your boyfriend in junior year, and he was sloppy and got tired quickly. It almost felt like he couldn't wait for it to stop. Anakin, on the other hand, ate you like it was worship. You could tell he was reading you, then changing what he was doing when he saw a good reaction he wanted to repeat. If there was a movement you liked, he would find it and do it again and again until your legs shook.

Words spilled out of you. Telling him how good it felt, how much you wanted him. Things you would never say, only think, if he wasn't destroying you. You thanked your lucky stars Ahsoka was out, because not even three walls between you would be able to muffle your moans. You grabbed his hair particularly viciously as you were getting close, and he groaned against you before somehow getting even faster with his tongue, finally bringing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you, and the world was still for a moment before the first wave of your orgasm hit. And, when it hit, you let out a moan so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear. You didn't even try to hide it from Anakin, who could definitely feel you twitching and clenching around his fingers.

"Fuuuuuuck, baby. You look so pretty when you cum," he said as he pulled away a bit, before pressing a kiss against your inner thigh while your legs shook around him. You caught your breath, but your pussy was still hungry. Demanding. Anakin got up from between your legs, still panting, his chin covered in a combination of spit and pussy juice. You took a mental snapshot for later reference. His eyes were so wild, and you knew you were about to get fucked like never before. Anakin was back over you, and you reached out your hand to the hard flesh that was practically bursting out of his jeans. As soon as you grazed it, he grunted, looking you straight in the eyes.

"You want it?" You nodded as fast as you can. Anakin smirked in that way that usually pissed you off, but now it just made you wetter. "Tell me how bad," he commanded. You didn't know where the words came from, but, once they started, they didn't stop.

"Fuck me, please Anakin. Please. I've waited so long and--I, Fuck. I need you inside me, more than anything in the whole fucking world, please," you begged. His jaw clenched as he smiled, obviously satisfied by your answer. He popped open the button of his jeans before undoing the fly and pulling both them and his boxers off in one go.

His cock almost made you drool, and you vowed to have it in your mouth next time. You'd had this one boyfriend, and you had sworn to all your friends that he was the biggest you'd ever had, seven inches. Anakin blew him out of the water. He was at least eight, if not more, and girthy enough that you wondered if you could even wrap your lips around him. The light skin of his shaft had purple and blue veins that snaked upward, and you longed to taste them. He was leaking a bead of precum, which he smeared across his head with his thumb.

Anakin turned around and pulled a condom out of his jeans. Had he planned this? Did he come here, knowing, hoping that you two would finally fuck? He obviously caught your weird look, and looked at you with knowing eyes.

"What, did you think I didn't know exactly why you wanted me here tonight?" Anakin chuckled, and you had the good decency to look a little bit embarrassed, but he rejoined you on the bed quickly enough that it didn't really matter.

"Damn, you look fucking amazing like this," he breathed, a little bit wonderous as he looked down at you, your legs spread for him. He situated himself between your legs, then wasted no time teasing you before he thrust into you with a loud moan. You let out a strangled sound, finally full to the brim with his cock, which was hitting parts of you that your fingers never could. And then he moved, and every nerve in your body was on fire. Your jaw opened, slack, as he pressed his forehead to yours and drilled into you. You were so wet from his spit that everything was sliding just right.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good. I'm not gonna last at this rate," he grunted out as he sped up.

"I don't care, Anakin, just fuck me," you moaned out. His hips slammed into yours, finally giving you what you'd been fantasizing about when you were alone. You relished the way his eyes squeezed shut, the hot breaths he huffed out, trying to stave off his release. He was fast and efficient, but listened to your reactions as he fucked you, adjusting angles until you were making the loudest noises you had that night. It felt like he was stretching you out, filling you up until there was no more air left in your body. Then, suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ride me," he growled. You scrambled to sit up, and he sat himself up against your headboard so that you were in his lap. Using your tired thighs, you lifted yourself up just enough for him to slip back in, which he did with ease as you both let out moans. You started raising and lowering your hips on him, working your way slowly so that he was fully inside you. From this angle, he was even deeper, if that was possible. Anakin's hands came up to grab your ass, squeezing it and occasionally giving it a gentle smack. You sped up, and words started tumbling out of his lips.

"Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to do this at that stupid fucking party. You looked so fuckin' hot, I almost came when you sat on me," he confessed before letting out a particularly loud moan. You thought back to the way he was looking at you at the party, and it was the same glare he was casting you now. Like he'd give anything to be with you, like he was desperate for you. And he was. He kept repeating your name and how good he felt as you bounced on him.

"Shit, baby, I'm close," he gritted out. You could see it in the way his eyes squeezed, his brow furrowed, and his arms clenched around you. Your thighs burned, but you got faster. You were going to make him cum as hard as you possibly could. Soon enough, his breathing got faster, louder, letting moans fall from his lips freely. Then, he came so powerfully you swore you could feel it too. His hips twitched and jerked up into you as spurt after spurt shot out of him and into the condom. He threw his head back against your headboard, scrunching his eyes shut and moaning out your name. You could feel every twitch of his cock, every jump of his muscles under you. It was joy itself.

Once he finished cumming, you lifted yourself up and let his cock slide out of you. He was still panting, flushed and sweaty, but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. Your head was resting against his chest, his left arm around you, as he pulled off the condom and tied it off, tossing it into your bedside trash. Both of you were a little bit more recovered, but your voice was still hoarse when you spoke.

"Fuck, that was amazing," you said. And it was. It really, truly was the best sex you had ever had. Anakin seemed equally as happy when he looked down at you with that soft, tender look in his eye.

"Really?" You gave him a little mhmm before he continued, "I feel bad I came so early. It's just, it's been a while for me." The confession came quickly. Like he almost wasn't sure whether to say it, but you were glad he did. You felt the same way.

"Me too, like six months. You?" The hand on his chest traced patterns across his stomach.

"Two years," he answered, like it was nothing.

"What?!" You expected him to say a month or two, maybe three at maximum. How could a guy who fucked that well stay celibate for that long? There was no way this was his first time back after so long. It was just impossible. He obviously saw the shock on your face, then elaborated.

"Yeah, since I broke up with my ex, I just… haven't found someone I wanted to do it with." Anakin was gazing at you with such affection that, for just a second, you thought it might be love.

"Until me." You didn't know where the words came from, but he didn't seem to mind. Part of you just wanted to hear him confirm it.

"Until you," he added as he gave your forehead a kiss. You lay there, your legs entwined and your hand rubbing patterns on his stomach while his pet your hair, in a happy, contented silence. The minutes passed, and his breathing slowed back to normal, but the look he was giving you didn't change. It was terrifying. You found yourself saying something to cut off the thought.

"Hey, you wanna know something funny?" You asked. Anakin, entangled in you, cast you a questioning look.

"What?"

"Check the pocket of my pants," you said. He pulled his arm out from under you, then got out of the bed and found your shorts behind your chair. From their right pocket, he pulled out a condom, and then burst out laughing. You joined him, and, in the moment, you felt like you were on the same team, the two of you against the world. The feeling only intensified when he kissed your forehead, still smiling.

"I'm gonna go get us something to clean up. Be back in a second," he said as he pulled on his boxers and pants again, before leaving the room to go find your bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later with a towel, soft and warm under his fingers. One of your washcloths, which he'd run under warm water to keep it comfortable. As he cleaned you up, then waited for you to use the bathroom, you wondered when he became so caring. So considerate and sweet. But maybe he had been that way the whole time, you thought as he put his arm around you in the bed. His skin against yours felt amazing, even better than it did during sex. For the first time, as you drifted off with your head against his chest, you wondered if being with him like this could happen more often. Maybe all the time. And then the words slipped from your mind, like footprints in sand on a beach, before you finally fell asleep.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @johnbassplayercutie @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck

#anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker/you #anakin/you #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #star wars prequels #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine

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awkward-walking-potato · 5 months ago

Note

Hi there! I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but I figured it's worth a try! I have a deadpool request, maybe where the reader and Wade live together and she gets attacked on her way home, and when she gets home she has to talk Wade down from going after the people who hurt her because she just wants his comfort and he takes care of her? It's all good if not! Thanks all the same, you're a really great writer! :D

Home Safe

The night had been long, with the usual mix of rowdy customers, bad music, and spilled drinks. You were used to it—bartending wasn’t your dream job, but it paid the bills, kept you busy, and gave you stories to tell. But tonight, the walk home felt longer than usual. Your thoughts were on autopilot, replaying the moments of the night, when suddenly, it happened.

A couple of guys—drunk, probably worse—cornered you in an alley. It was quick, too quick. You fought back, because of course you did, but they had the numbers, and they were looking for trouble. A few blows landed, and before you knew it, you were on the ground, dazed and hurting. They laughed, took off, leaving you with bruises and more than a little anger. But you knew better than to stick around. Stumbling back to your feet, you forced yourself the rest of the way home.

When you finally reached the front door of the apartment you shared with Wade, you hesitated. You knew how he’d react. Wade was… intense when it came to you. Protective, sometimes overly so, but in a way that was more endearing than stifling. You loved him for it. But tonight, you needed his comfort, not his rage.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door as quietly as you could. The lights were dimmed, but you could hear the faint sound of the TV in the living room. He was still awake.

“Sweetheart, is that you?” Wade’s voice called out from the couch, playful and warm, like it always was when you came home.

You tried to mask the wince as you walked in, but Wade’s eyes were sharp, even when he was in one of his more relaxed moods. The moment he saw you, the playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by something darker. He shot up from the couch, closing the distance between you in two long strides.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice low, controlled, but you could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface. His gloved hands cupped your face, tilting it gently so he could inspect the damage. The bruises were already starting to bloom, and you knew it wouldn’t take him long to piece things together.

“It’s nothing, Wade,” you tried to say, but your voice came out shakier than you intended. You hated how much this was affecting you. You were tougher than this. But Wade’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened.

“Nothing?” he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. “You’re bruised and shaking, and you’re telling me it’s nothing? Tell me who did this.” His tone was lethal, and you could see that deadly glint in his eyes, the one that meant he was ready to go full-on Deadpool.

“No.” You grabbed his hands, holding them tight, trying to keep him grounded. “Wade, I don’t want that. I just want you. Please.”

His whole body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. But at your words, his grip on your face softened. “I can’t just… You know I can’t just let this go,” he said, his voice rough with barely restrained fury.

You shook your head. “I don’t need you to go after them. I don’t care about them. I just need you, okay? I need you here, with me. Not out there, not doing… what you do.”

Wade’s expression shifted, the anger still there but warring with concern, with love. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, careful not to press too hard against your bruises. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of gunpowder, leather, and something uniquely Wade. His arms around you felt like the safest place in the world, and for a moment, you let yourself melt into him, the tension in your body slowly easing.

He didn’t let go. Not for a long time. He just stood there, holding you, his fingers brushing through your hair in soothing strokes. It wasn’t until you sighed deeply, finally starting to relax, that he pulled back just enough to look at you again.

“Let me take care of you,” he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the anger that had been there moments ago. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded, letting him guide you to the bathroom. Wade was surprisingly gentle as he tended to your bruises, his usual sarcastic banter muted but still present in the way he kept whispering little reassurances, cracking the occasional joke to make you smile.

As he finished bandaging a particularly nasty cut on your arm, he looked up at you, his expression more serious than usual. “You don’t have to go back, you know. To the bar.”

You frowned slightly. “Wade…”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not pushy. “You don’t need that job. I can take care of us. You don’t have to worry about money or any of that crap. And you definitely don’t need to be putting yourself in danger for a bunch of assholes who don’t tip well.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t just offering to take care of you—he was offering you security, safety. Something you both knew was hard to come by in your line of work.

“I know you’re tough,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Hell, you’re tougher than I am, and that’s saying something. But you don’t have to keep proving it to anyone. Not to me, not to them, not to yourself.”

You stared at him for a long moment, letting his words sink in. Wade wasn’t the kind of guy to make promises lightly. His life was chaotic, dangerous, but when it came to you, he was solid, unwavering.

Finally, you nodded. “Okay. But not because I need you to take care of me. I just… I think you’re right. Maybe it’s time for something different.”

Wade’s face lit up with relief, and he pulled you into his arms again, this time with a little more force, careful but reassuringly strong. “Good. Because if anyone’s gonna be putting bruises on you, it’s gonna be me, in the fun way.”

You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replied, his voice a mix of pride and affection. “Now, how about I order us some takeout, and we make fun of bad movies until you fall asleep? No more thinking about those jerks. Just you, me, and a whole lot of greasy food.”

You smiled, finally feeling at peace. “Sounds perfect.”

And as you curled up on the couch together, Wade’s arm securely around you, you knew that no matter what, you’d always be safe with him. Because Wade wasn’t just your protector—he was your home.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool oneshot #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson

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xvysarene · 9 months ago

Text

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕗

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.3k Genre: Suggestive Notice: 3rd person POV, Mentions of alcohol, Slight OOC Zayne (not a teetotaler)

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“I know a healthier way to relieve stress, doctor.”

Alcohol-induced thoughts had rolled off her tongue effortlessly.

She had expected his towering build to abruptly rise and leave her right there, appalled by the provocative comment. A disgusted expression or an unexpected snort would be acceptable too.

Yet, when she finally dared to face him, those sharp eyes locking with hers was not something she expected. Overflowing intensity caused her skin to tingle.

“You shouldn’t offer what you can’t deliver, Ms. Y/N,” his lowered voice warned her, sending a chill down her spine on hearing the way he had addressed her so formally, just like when they were in the meeting room.

The room suddenly spun, but not from the alcohol. No, she only had two bottles of beer, just enough to loosen her tongue like this.

The response in her throat dried as she saw him sipping his whiskey sans ice, Adam apple’s bobbing as he swallowed the deep amber liquid after letting it linger in his mouth, taking in the smoky flavour.

“Well?” Perfectly arched brow challenged her.

Heart pounding rapidly in her chest, she took one last gulp from the barely touched third bottle to calm her nerves before subtly cocking her head to the bar’s exit.

It was one of the rare moments she had seen him smirk and not in response to a challenge in the medical field.

The faint creaking from the bar stool was loud in her ears as he stood up, settling both of their bills with the bartender, and leaving a hefty tip. His surprisingly warm palm rested low on her hip as he guided her to his black sedan.

Mesmerizing city lights blurred. Her attention drawn solely to the sensation of his thumb slowly drawing circles on her thigh.

Next thing she knew, her back was pressed against the back of his front door, lips locked in a passionate battle filled with intense desire that made her knees buckle.

The strong thigh nestled between her heated core was the only thing stopping her from melting into a puddle on his floor. The friction, a welcome bliss, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

That was the beginning of the agreement, becoming a recurring occurrence whenever both of them needed to blow off steam from the stresses of demanding jobs. Him, saving lives, and her, dealing with difficult clients.

“Thank you for being my stress relief.”

His words cut through her second post-orgasm haze like ice water.

Somewhere along the line of what was supposed to be a no-strings-attached arrangement, small things like having a late-night snack together to deeper conversation during pillow talks grew to be a regular part of the deal.

Feelings for him had begun to bloom, much like the flowers outside with the arrival of warmer weather.

“Are you okay?” The sound of rustling sheets reminded her that she had been silent for too long while staring emptily at his ceiling.

“Yeah,” she simply replied.

Not satisfied with the answer, she felt Zayne’s fingertips lightly tracing above her collarbone, gently checking patches of skin that had turned reddish. They would undoubtedly be bruised by the next day.

“Was I too rough?”

Hands roamed greedily over her curves, warm lips on the sensitive dips and folds that he had become well acquainted with, growls of desire, and powerful thrusts flashed through her mind.

She tried to suppress the memories, though her body still hummed from the aftereffects. “No, just tired.”

He carefully took hold of her chin, noticing that she had been avoiding his gaze. "Y/N, you know you can talk to me, right?" his voice filled with concern.

“I think that’s the problem.”

Zayne’s calculated hazel orbs bore into hers, searching for the meaning behind her words.

“I’m not sure if you notice, Zayne, but for a casual arrangement, things are starting to get complicated.”

It was his turn to drop his gaze. For someone as bright as him, it would be impossible for the situation to go over his head.

He too must have realised the way their dynamic had changed over time; they had spent more time together in and out of the bedroom.

At times, they’d simply cuddle through the nights, providing a safe haven without the necessity for words.

She held her breath. There was no going back now. “It's starting to feel like more than just sex—it has been for some time.”

Retracted fingers sent a clear sign that he was about to take a step back, the gesture as clear as the darkness enveloping the night. The guarded mask was back once he met her gaze again.

“We both agreed that this was meant to be casual. I don't want either of us to end up getting hurt.”

It sounded like an automated response even to his ears. He grimaced.

Y/N's heart sank. Despite the obvious signal of his withdrawal, his words still pierced her heart. “I see,” she said quietly, distancing herself from him slightly.

Zayne could sense her disappointment and reached out to touch her arm. “Hey, Y/N, it's not that I don't care about you. I just…” his words faltered.

“I understand,” she said, forcing a smile. “I believe it might be best if we stop doing this then.”

He breathed out slowly. “Yeah, you may be right.”

A curt nod was directed at him. “I should probably get going anyway.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s past midnight,” Zayne immediately stood up, trying to stop her. She tried hard not to look down at his abs or any other part of his anatomy. “I’m not asking you to leave. You can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.”

“I just prefer to sleep on my own bed tonight, but thank you for the offer.”

He watched as she quickly slipped on her clothes and gathered her things.

“Let me drop you off at least,” he pleaded.

“I'll take the 24-hour taxi on the corner of your street and send you my location,” she shut him down with the same assertive tone she used when closing deals.

As he closed the door behind her, a part of him wished she hadn't seen him at the bar that evening when he had let his heart rule over his brain.

“What is it?” Zayne took the pen out of his pocket and began to add his notes to the patient’s file.

When no response came from the direction of his office door, he exasperatedly looked up, about to shoot daggers at whoever was interrupting him.

Greyson, his assistant and regrettably a close friend out of work, stood in place, watching his every move.

“Less than fifteen minutes to the meeting; you were normally ready half an hour before that.”

The grip on the pen tightened as he concentrated back on jutting his notes down, making sure he didn’t miss any important details.

“I have some urgent things to attend to earlier.”

Greyson hmmed. “Yeah, things that you normally assign to the junior doctors so they can 'practice more' as you often phrase it."

Zayne knew that engaging with Greyson was futile since he would never win—a rarity, given that he would typically be the one in Greyson's shoes in any other situation.

“Let’s go, don’t want to be late for such an important meeting.”

As Greyson walked one step ahead of him, he did shoot daggers at the back of his friend's head all the way to the meeting room.

Nervous fingers, poised to adjust the tie, froze in place as he noticed Yvonne sent Greyson a knowing look once they entered the conference room before setting her eyes on him.

“Ah, Doctor Zayne and Doctor Greyson are here,” the hospital administrator greeted them from his seat.

He cleared his throat. “Apologies for running late.”

“Not at all, Doctor Zayne. You are, in fact, right on time,” Y/N said, acknowledging him after finishing setting up her laptop for the presentation.

"It's good to have you back, Ms. Y/N,” Greyson said as he took the seat across from him.

“Likewise, Doctor Greyson.”

“No offense to your colleague, but we were afraid we’d get a new account manager.”

The smile faltered slightly on her lips, clearly taken aback by his assistant’s nonsensical comment. “I had a business trip last time, which was why I had asked my colleague to step in for me.”

“We find that consulting with you is a more enjoyable process for us, as you're familiar with our requirements, isn’t that right, Doctor Zayne?"

Greyson’s sudden query left him unprepared. He sent his friend a quick warning glance before nodding, afraid that his carefully crafted pretense of nonchalance would slip away.

“Right, since everybody is here, should we start the meeting then?” the purchasing manager spoke when he finally put his phone down, not paying attention to the conversation as he was busy texting anyway. “Ms. Y/N, what new devices do you have for us?”

As Y/N started her presentation, Yvonne’s hushed words reached his ears, “Would you like some water, doctor?” The nurse’s hand appeared in his line of vision, handing him a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” he replied, making the mistake of looking into the nurse's eyes. Her perceptive gaze told him she knew how surprisingly affected he was by Y/N’s presence.

For once, he regretted instilling in those who work under him the importance of being observant of their surroundings.

Y/N’s fingers traced the rim of the glass, lost in the haunting cadence of the singer's voice.

The lady poured her heart into each note. Each lyric dripped with the bittersweet of longing, a testament to love that lingered just beyond reach.

“Pretty uneventful for a celebratory night, don’t you think?” The bartender—Ethan, she had learned his name—approached her again once the end of the workweek crowd had slowly dispersed.

“Perhaps,” she replied, “but it allows me to rearrange my thoughts.”

She had found unexpected companionship with the bartender, who had recognised her from the night her loose tongue had led her into a difficult situation with Zayne.

Despite its prime location at Moonshadow Avenue, the jazz bar remained a hidden gem, often overlooked by the bustling crowds.

It was the perfect place to enjoy some time alone outside the confines of her home, feeling it a little too empty lately.

“People normally do that within the privacy of their home,” he responded knowingly. There was a kindness in his eyes, a silent reassurance that she wasn't alone in her solitude.

She sent him a small smile and savored the final drop of the ruby-hued liquid. A delicate hint of orange zest, weaving through the complex herbaceous notes, warmed her body.

Ethan took the empty glass. “And that, ma’am, is the last glass for tonight.”

When he saw her let out a playful huff despite the buzz that she was feeling, he offered a gentle warning, “Negronis can sneak up on you quicker than you think. Wouldn't want you making any bad decisions now, would we?”

“Alright, dad.” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes to his retreating figure, feeling grateful for his watchful care.

As the band moved on to another piece, she cast a look around the room. Couples were huddled together, allowing intimate conversations to blend with the somber tones of saxophones and pianos.

The warm, honeyed glow from antique lamps illuminated their faces, creating playful shadows dancing across their features. Every exchanged smile spoke volumes of love in a myriad of languages shared between them.

Feeling a churn inside her heart, she grabbed her purse, ready to call it a night.

“It’s on the house,” Ethan tutted after serving another patron.

“I had more than one glass tonight,” she warned and slid the card to him.

“If I ever undergo heart surgery at Akso—God forbid”—he knocked on the polished bar to ward off any bad luck—“I’ll make sure to thank you personally for the devices you sold to them.” With that, he slid the card back across the bar.

Y/N shook her head at his antics and handed him a generous trip instead. “Thank you, but just this once.”

“Anytime, milady,” he quipped, bowing dramatically. “Get home safely.”

She waved goodnight and stumbled a bit, the buzz from the drink intensifying as she rose from the stool. Ethan’s advice was spot on—any more drinks and she might have found herself spinning along with the room, tripping her way out the door.

The cool breeze of the spring night air hit her, a welcoming sensation that helped clear her head. Phone in hand, ready to order a ride, she thought she caught a whiff of a sterile smell, a scent that reminded her of the corridors at the hospital.

Heart racing, she looked up at the sound of a familiar voice softly uttering her name.

“Y/N?” he called out again as she blinked at him.

It was Zayne, still clad in the white shirt and light beige cotton vest combo he had worn earlier in the day, looking like he just finished his shift.

Though he had rolled up his sleeves, allowing the world to get a sight of his strong forearms.

A faint sigh slipped from his lips as he extended a finger in front of her face, moving it from left to right, checking to see if her eyes focused on it.

“You’ve been drinking more than I thought.”

“What are you doing here?” Y/N countered, not expecting to see him.

Those unmistakable hazel eyes peered down at her, before looking to the side, lost in contemplation.

“I need to see you. Figured you might have frequented this bar again and I was right.”

Her mouth opened and closed, mind racing on how to respond to that.

The lively younger crowd suddenly shifted, eager to migrate to a happening spot as the night was still young to them, and she found herself jolted into his embrace.

Apologies from a younger girl fell on deaf ears as her focus was captured by the arms securely wrapping around her figure.

“Let me drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question. The same words he had uttered the night she left his house echoed in her mind.

City lights blurred into a colorful haze, much like the first time she sank into the plush leather seat of his car, though her thigh felt empty.

The hand that had rested on it previously was gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to restrain itself. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he finally broke the silence when her apartment came into view.

Zayne turned off the engine and turned to face her. “But seeing that you’ve had some drinks, it’s probably better if we do this when you’re completely sober.”

“Meet me upstairs,” the words came rushing out of her mouth, surprising him and her both.

He looked into her eyes deeply. “Are you sure?”

She nodded swiftly and opened the car door, stepping out before she could second-guess her decision.

Upstairs, weary feet paced back and forth, the sound of footsteps echoing softly in the quiet apartment. Fresh breeze swept through the opened windows, bringing clarity to her mind.

Soon, there was a soft knock on the door, and her heart raced faster. She was met with the sight of him who had shed his vest and tie. That sure wasn’t helping her nerves as he somehow looked even more dashing than before.

She could feel his heat as he passed her. Suddenly, her apartment felt small with Zayne standing there, his presence filling the room.

“You have been busy,” he remarked when he saw the pile of papers stacked on her coffee table.

“I’m just trying to do more work to take my mind off…” she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Of you.

“Of what?” Zayne prompted. “Is everything okay?” He genuinely looked concerned, softening her towards him even more, if possible.

“Just a lot in my mind lately,” she opted to say.

He hmmed understandingly and they resorted to another silence. Feeling parched, she took a swig of the chilled water from her fridge, aware that his gaze was tracking her every move.

“I saw you hurriedly walking down the hospital corridor a couple of months back,” he said quietly, “avoiding me as if I were contagious.”

And yet, she had done it again earlier in the morning. After successfully closing the deal with Akso, the businesswoman's confidence evaporated as their hands clasped in a shake.

The familiar hold of his hand ignited a surge of memories, memories where he had once gripped both of her wrists effortlessly, guiding her into moments of ecstasy.

It prompted her to hastily make an escape.

“I just...didn't know how to face you, and I didn’t want to make things more awkward between us.”

His hand caught her chin, lifting her head that had hung low from embarrassment. Her breath caught, only noticing how those broad shoulders were closer than before.

“I’ve missed you.”

Doubt stealthily crept into her. “You mean the sex?”

“That’s a totally different context,” he clarified quickly, "I care about you. More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And it drives me crazy knowing that I have hurt you.

“You were right, it hadn’t been just a casual arrangement for some time," he admitted, voice tinged with fragility that she had heard sneaking in within the safe space of their pillow talks. “I’m a coward who thought that completely baring my soul to someone will only end in heartache.”

“Well, I have a soft spot for this particular person who dares to bare his soul.” Her smile was gentle, though he didn’t miss the mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Did you finally admit that it was more than physical or is my mind playing tricks on me, Doctor Zayne?”

A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Judging on your playful quip even when I’m being serious and…” His thumb brushed against her jugular, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her pulse beneath his touch. “…seeing that you’re responding even to the slightest touch, it seems that you’re fully alert right now.”

Smouldering gaze pinned her down to the spot. Their heads tilted closer, drawn by an irresistible magnetic pull.

“Though, I never refuted that I didn’t miss the physical aspect, did I?”

A surge of heat rushed through that one spot south of her body. “So, Mr. Coward, what’s your next brave move going to be?” her words came out in a breathless whisper.

With a barely audible exhale, he grabbed her by the back of the neck. Mouths moved in a passionate dance of need, their kisses growing more desperate with each passing second.

As they fought for oxygen, he withdrew, forehead touching hers. “Are you sure this is something you want? Right after we talk about things between us are more than just sex?”

“Didn’t you confirm I’m ‘fully alert’ earlier?”

She tugged on his collar, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The fabric of her pencil skirt felt constricting as his skilled surgeon fingers toyed along the waistband.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” she managed to gasp out in between her moans, tilting her head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck to his wandering lips further.

“No,” he replied, voice thick with a feral need.

Puffs of hot breath danced across her skin, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand proud. “Will you stay the night then?”

Full-blown dark irises locked onto hers, a sly curl exclusively reserved for her tugged at the corner of his lips

“I thought you’d never asked,” he breathed, before lightly nibbling on his favourite spot. The spot he knew would elicit the sweetest symphony from her lips.

Peppered purplish marks would for sure grace her neck for the next couple of days. And perhaps a few other places on her body too.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x y/n #love and deepspace x you #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #suggestive

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 year ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Author's Note: Yes I reworked this piece because I liked the concept of forbidden attraction, but wanted it slightly different cause I didn't like how I executed it the first time. I think this works much better! Also stay tuned for Tuesday, October 31st cause we have a real treat for Halloween coming!

Joining the 141 had one hard rule: no relationships of any kind between members, but that is something proving to be too much the closer you and Simon get.

You weren’t meant to be here, panting like an animal in heat, nearly naked in Simon’s bed as his fingers traced burning lines down your abdomen and over the curve of your hips to tug playfully at the seam of your panties. Yet that's exactly where you found yourself.

You were pure temptation, forbidden fruit, the most delicious type of sin; you were not supposed to be doing this, but from the moment you first met when you joined the task force as their medic he knew he had to have you and nothing could sate that growing, gnawing hunger in him until he possessed every last inch of you for his own.

It had started innocent enough: chaste glances whenever you came into contact, friendly quips and pleasantries, guiltless touches that never lingered more than need be… until that just wasn’t enough. That nagging ache was just too strong to hold off the closer you both got, the attraction clouding all judgment that told him this was wrong and that he should leave it alone; coworkers couldn't get involved, that was the one rule that was strictly upheld when you joined the task force.

This wasn't like him to risk his job, but he just couldn’t let these feelings go.

How could he when you made him feel alive for the first time in years? Even just being in your presence left him giddy like a fucking teenager again, full of raging hormones and excitement for days after. Why would he not want to have that all for himself?

You weren’t much better, not once you realized what was happening between you. “We’re just friends,” you’d repeat over and over as if the very utterance of the phrase could alter what was slowly creeping its way inside your mind, but the more Simon found reasons to come visit you in the infirmary, the more you knew what not nipping this in the bud would lead to.

And yet you didn’t want it to stop.

He was more than the stoic killer, the man cloaked in the face of death; he was passionate and smart and he looked at you as if he would burn everything to the fucking ground and salt the earth just to have you. To be coveted in such an all-consuming way, having never experienced something so intense before, that was euphoric. How could you possibly let that just walk away?

It was just drinks, it was just staying out a little later than usual, it was just a little crush that’ll pass; that was your excuses for him time and again. And yet you could not help the way you began to imagine coveting such intense passion for your own or what it would be like to have such a strong, virile man take you rough and exasperatedly. To belong to someone who was so obviously obsessed he could not help himself that he was willing to risk it all, put his entire life into jeopardy, it was hard not to get sucked in.

No, not just anyone. Simon. Only Simon.

So that was how you found yourself in his room after hours by some flimsy excuse made that you couldn’t even remember now. And the low light of the room, the tension permeating the space like a heavy fog, the closeness of that beast of a man as he looked down at you with those eyes that screamed he was being swallowed whole by his desire was enough to make things start.

Calloused fingertips sliding across your bare arm were then suddenly around your waist and then your hip. Not once did you try to swat his hand away; you didn’t want that feeling caused by his touch to stop, the one making your mind fuzzy.

Then his shirt was off along with your own and Simon found himself struggling to breathe. Inhaling deep and exhaling just as heavy, he could only stare back at all that soft, supple skin. “Goddamn,” he stammered out the breathless word as those fingers traced patterns on your palms hanging at your sides. “You’re more beautiful than I coulda fuckin’ imagined, sweetheart.”

You’d patched him up so many times, seen more of him than anyone else, and yet here and now it was like experiencing the sight of him bare before you for the first time. Pupils dilated, breaths hitched, nerve endings exploded to life and the overwhelming urge to explore each other until you both knew the other by touch alone filled the space between you.

Those same fingertips played with the button on your jeans, testing how far you were willing to let him go. At any second there was an unknown fear your hand would push his away and you would stop this right in its tracks, but as you gave him a nod and he undid your jeans and slid them down your legs, he allowed himself to hope that this wouldn’t end at all.

Suddenly he grabbed your hand and brought you over to his bed, sitting you down to sit beside you so close he was pressed into your side. Being this close, everything became so clear and even though the room was anything but cold, a shiver went up his spine a the weight of his decision.

"Take it off," he murmured near the side of your head as he filled his nostrils with your scent, that natural musk that was specific to only you, the one that made it near impossible to function whenever you were close. "The mask. I want ya to take it off."

You couldn't be stopped. With unsteady hands you reached up to his face, gently sliding your fingertips under the thin fabric covering his face and slowly you pulled it up and over until all of his visage was revealed to you. It wasn't the first time you'd seen him, but this time was so much more important.

Copper eyes sparkled now that they were released from the bounds of the mask, shifting colors in the pale light as they were so full with emotion. Lust, yes, desire, of course, but so much more and you were caught in their penetrating gaze.

His hand moved up to cup against your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek as his eyes flitted to your lips where he watched the moistened, full bits of flesh call him to embrace. Instead of connecting those yearning bits of flesh, his hand wandered to the back of your head to pull it towards him so that he could rest his forehead against yours.

"I need ya," he said, that gruff voice unable to hide the begging lilt in his tone, "so fuckin' bad."

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered the half-hearted objection with eyes closed as he leaned in and ghosted his lips over your own, so close he could taste your muggy breath.

Risking more, your fingertips glided across the bulky muscles of his abdomen, called as if by a siren’s song to stroke along all that beautiful skin available for you alone. They danced over the sparse covering of hair that led down into his pants and the sound of him trying to gulp down air to fill his lungs as his breath got caught in his chest caught your attention.

The unbearable need to shove you down onto your back, spread your legs to slip in between, and fuck you until you were too exhausted to move flooded his veins; it was a monumental task to keep himself from giving in, but he had to be sure you wanted this just as bad, that he was not taking something that was not his to take.

That you were willing to accept the risk as well.

“Then tell me ta stop,” he breathed back onto your parted lips, rough fingers taking your chin firmly into his grasp to pull your head up so that he could place his lips along your jawline. Each caress of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, tiny pricks of electricity that had you reeling in agony for more.

Under your chin and down the side of your throat he went, scourging the flesh for anyone else that would dare come after him. “Shove me away, tell me to get the fuck out so ya can get dressed and leave,” he groaned into your skin. “Tell me ya don’t want this and we’ll never fuckin’ speak of it again. But…I want ya to stay; I'm tired of pretending you're not in my goddamn veins and that I don't dream 'bout all the ways ta make ya mine.”

You swallowed hard, sanity slipping violently away the longer his mouth left those euphoric trails of tingles down your neck until your cheeks flushed crimson while that damp heat continued to gather between your legs. Bodies molded into one another, desperately begging to become one in that lust-fueled connection that would send you both straight to hell, the air thick with unrequited desire that had built to its breaking point, you knew there was no way you could leave him now.

Your choice had already been made the moment you stepped inside his room and he shut the door.

Opening your eyes, you waited until he felt you move and pulled his head up so that you could look directly into those copper eyes nearly black now in the dim light. “No,” you shook your head, “I can’t leave, not now. I need you Simon; fuck, I need you so bad it hurts.”

What more was there to say to that? He had wanted to hear you say those words for so long now it almost didn’t feel real, as if at any moment he would wake up alone in his room with a wet spot staining his boxers and the cycle of agony would continue.

Harshly he moved his hand back to where it was wrapped around the back of your head and taking a deep breath he pulled your face to him to crash his yearning mouth onto yours. Fiery and aggressive he captured your lips over and over, greedy to make up for all the lost time he had spent pining for their embrace.

Simon needed you like air in his lungs, like a man dying of thirst needs water, and in that moment nothing existed in the entire world outside of that bed: not consequences or repercussions for his actions, not reprimands or disciplinary actions, not court-martials or anything else the higher ups could threaten him with. The ecstasy of you was worth all the goddamn bullshit he may face for the crime of needing you.

Advancing on top of you, he pushed you down onto your back until you were pressed into his mattress beneath him, his body buzzing from the high of finally unleashing the monster that had kept him suffering. Torsos pressed firmly together so that you could hardly breathe, limbs intertwined as he easily slid between your thighs, hips grinding into one another, he completely lost himself.

“Never thought I’d hear ya say those words,” he groaned into your mouth, making you swallow down his desperation. “Needed ya for so fuckin’ long, thought I was gonna lose my goddamn mind, luv. It’s been so hard tryin’ to keep distance between us. I'm fuckin' dyin' wantin' you and not being able to do a damned thing 'bout it. I don't care what the fuck the rules say, I have ta have ya.”

“Then take me,” you moaned as your hands slipped between your burning bodies and rushed to his belt to loosen it so that you could undo his pants and pull them down. “Please, Simon. Please. I need to feel you inside me.”

Simon shimmied to help you until they hung around his ankles and he could kick them off, that same he did with his boxers, never letting up on his assault of your mouth. Fuck, he was so hard it was nearly painful and he hissed as the head of his cock brushed up against you. His large hands pulled at the crotch of your panties, sliding them to the side and out of the way.

The excitement of the moment had gotten to your body and what met his fingers was that sticky moistness that meant you were ready for him. Sitting up on his knees he aligned the tip of his cock so that he could slip through your delicate petals to coat himself in your juices, adding lubrication to make this easier.

You got the first feel of what he had to offer and fuck was more than you could have imagined as it throbbed and pulled near your aching hole. Grabbing onto your hips, he pressed his swollen tip directly onto your entrance and thrust until it slipped inside. Instantly you were filled with him, fuller than you had ever been before, and your head flew back as you mewled loudly at being stretched to capacity.

The agony was finally over.

"N-nh… mmm…" Simon groaned behind closed lips as he jerked. So fucking tight, so soft and warm and wet, it was more than anything he could have hoped for and he had to pause a second to collect himself.

Right and wrong didn't exist anymore, it was only you and him now, reveling in that thrill of experiencing each other for the first time in that most intimate way. As he began to thrust back and forth through your pussy, he knew he would do whatever it took to have you like this over and over again, fuck the rules.

And as his body meshed perfectly with yours as if you were created for one another, cock pounding into you to make the desperate moans escape your lips like quiet praises, you knew that from that moment on no matter what came you were his.

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 10 months ago

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I don't mind (leeminho)

It wasn't the first time you and Minho had gotten a little carried away while making out. A quick peck on the lips while watching a movie on the couch had suddenly turned into a full on make out session that had the two of you scrambling upstairs, limbs intertwined and messy hair and and hands all over the place and really ... who could blame you?

You two had officially started dating only fairly recently but the more time you spent with him the more you wanted him all to yourself. Especially on some of his days off when the both of you felt way too lazy and too cozy to leave the house and would just hang out in your comfy sweats and drink tea while watching random shit on Netflix.

The thing is: even at his most relaxed and cozy, bare faced and untamed hair, your boyfriend looked exceptionally good. It was almost like his chill, quiet aura and casual look made him even more attractive in your eyes, like he was just there, existing in hot.

This time around there was something just so irresistible about his dark, fluffy and slightly messy hair and tired eyes and the way he had been repeatedly stroking your arm and the outline of your hip while you were staring at the screen, that it had all just made you want him so bad.

So there you were, straddling his lap as he sits on the edge of his bed, hands now firmly grabbing your bum, now moving your tangled hair away from your face as he hungrily kissed you and you tipped your head back is if to give him easier access and control, feeling your insides getting progressively warmer and tinglier with each and every of his moves.

You roll your hips gently, eliciting a low rumble in his throat as he reluctantly stops kissing you, wild eyes and short breath fanning your face as he slips his fingers past the hem of your shirt and starts to roll the fabric upwards, signaling his intention in taking it off of you. And that's when you freeze on the spot.

Your heart dropping to the base of your stomach, the very same arms you had wrapped around his neck now falling limp at your sides, your face turning into a frown.

"Whats wrong?", Minho asks, his hands stopping just short of your bellybutton, releasing your shirt that falls back down your sides with the motion. "I - I uh..." your breath catches in your throat a little and you stumble on your words, unable to meet his soft but intent gaze that searches your face for answers, "I - ugh", you sigh loudly and roll your eyes with frustration at your own self, "I have really ugly scars on my chest", you confess, mentally preparing for the same old speech you rehearsed so many times over in your head cause you knew the moment would eventually come.

For as much as you could always tell when he was feeling a little horny by the way he would smirk at you and tease you nonstop, Minho had never pressured you into anything, he really just initiated things and then was always trying to read your face and see how you'd react to his touch.

The more you seemed comfortable, eager even, to have him merely giving you that sort of attention, the more confident he grew and tried to test how far along you'd go. And truly, if it wasn't for how insecure your scars made you, you would have given him full permission to see you half naked ages ago.

Minho blinks at you, tilting his head to the side, slightly opening his mouth in that cute v shape as he looks at you confusedly, "I had a boob job okay? Back when I was 17. It was actually a breast reduction cause I had almost double d's and they were very uncomfortable and were causing me back problems and frequent chest pain and my rib cage was suffering and-" you stop rambling, catching your breath for a bit, still looking down at your lap as you further confess your troubles after a brief second.

"I don't regret it one bit. The best decision I made so far, really. But even though it's been years the scars never properly faded. The one on the left side is still a bit raised and rough to the touch and it's just... It's just - they look so bad".

The room falls quiet for what feels like an eternity when you know it's probably a few seconds, but at least now that you said it all you feel a little lighter, a little more confident as you slowly lift your eyes up to Minho who's still looking at you. "I don't care" he deadpans, his tone not even harsh just very... Indifferent? "I literally do not care, at all. I have a scar too, actually".

You barely have any time to register what's happening before he takes off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest, his pectorals prominent and his visible but softer upper abs which do show a darker patch of skin at the edges of a scar, "had to have surgery when I was a kid. I hate it. I don't want to talk about it. Never fully faded and never will but... It is what it is", he shrugs, his eyes quickly returning to your bewildered ones as you scan his beautiful chest.

"I think you look great", you breathe out, a genuinely fond smile creeping up your lips. You almost cannot believe he just exposed himself like that, only to make you feel better about your own scars.

Minho smiles back at you and sucks on his teeth, "thank you", his arms circle your waist and his hands rest on your lower back, bringing you a little closer to him, "you don't need to do this, though. You can take off your shirt or you can keep it on, either way I don't mind. I felt your tits before, I know they're great anyway".

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lostquinn · 2 years ago

Text

They're mine

Connor (dbh) x gn!reader

Fluff - flirting - protective Connor

CW - harassment // swearing

Summary - while waiting for Hank and a few others at a bar, a man approaches you and starts flirting - this makes you uncomfortable and Connor could tell as soon as he walked in. The android makes it his job to be your boyfriend for the night.

Writing this had me smiling and kicking my feet. I love him so much. Did anyone spot my silly little reference? 👀 requests are still open!!

Word count - 946

The lighting of the establishment was low, it was your first time in this bar that Hank had recommended and so far it just seemed the same as evey other bar.

You were sat in a booth, waiting for Hank and a few others from the police station to show up. You hadn't worked with them for a short while but you still liked to catch up with them.

The wooden table was sticky and the seats were uncomfortable. There was some sort of music playing that could barely be heard over the conversations that flooded the room.

A man slid into the booth opposite you. This dragged your eyes away from your phone to the stranger across the table.

"Hey beautiful," he slurred his words slightly.

The man's hair was greasy, falling down just past his stumbled chin. He grinned at you, a smile too wide to be normal proudly showed off his yellowed teeth and he leant towards you.

His arms reached across the desk, hands searching to find yours as he stared at you. You recoiled away from him, pressing back into the fabric of the booth behind you.

"Leave me alone," you said to the man, shifting due to your discomfort.

"Not until I get your number or take you home doll," he continued grinning.

"That's not going to happen,"

"Then I'm not going anywhere." He looked out up and down as best he could.

It felt as though he was undressing you with his eyes and suddenly it felt wrong to be in your own skin. You looked around, hoping to find a different booth to hide yourself away in and it turned out the bar had filled up during this conversation, yet your friends still weren't here.

You cursed them as the stranger began speaking, flirting with you in his drunken state.

"You know doll, I could show ya a real good time," he ended his almost speech.

"I'm meeting someone, please leave me alone,"

"I don't see him. I'm not going until I get your number or you in my bed bitch." He moved to sit differently, adjusting his posture.

You felt a wave of fear rush through you. This feeling was furthered when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped and looked up, searching for who the hand belonged to.

Connors chocolate brown eyes met yours and you felt calm in an instant. He was smiling down at you, his features soft and beautiful.

He sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you close to him. You were just friends. Just friends. That's all he saw you as. You cursed yourself for enjoying his touch as much as you were.

"There you are sweetheart, sorry I was late. I was looking everywhere for you."

You smiled at him. "You found me,"

He pressed a kiss against your temple in response. "So who's this?" He tilted his head towards the stranger

"I dont know," you muttered.

Connors body language didn't change. Of course he knew that you didn't know the drunk stranger, he had probably heard the last thing the man said to you.

"I'm the one who's gonna make your little partner my bitch." He grinned at Connor.

Connor pulled his arm away from you and leant across the table. He grabbed the man by the collar and stared deep into his soul. For a moment he whispered, too quiet for you to hear. You could only hear his final words to the man.

"They're mine." He almost growled.

As Connor sat back and put his arm back around you, the man left. You swore that you caught an expression that could only be described as pure fear. You wondered what Connor has whispered to him.

A blush flushed your face pink as you looked at Connor, his head was turned away from you as he greeted Hank and the others who had just arrived.

He removed his arm from around you, saving the both of you from being teased by the others as they crowded around the table.

"Jesus [name] was this the only table?" Hank groaned slightly as he reached for his beer.

"I don't see you finding us a better one," you stuttered, tripping over your words.

You were distracted by the presence of Connors hand, placed gently on the top of your thigh. He simply rested his hand on you, being able to touch you made him feel secure as he knew you were safe and okay.

----

The night ended at your doorway, after Connor had walked you home for the night. You stood, leaning against the wooden frame as you smiled at him.

"Thank you for that back there,"

"It's no problem, I had to get rid of him," he smiled.

"What did you tell him? Other than that I'm yours?"

His face flushed a light blue as he looked at you. His eyes were wide and his mouth sat slightly open. Connor moved his lips to say something a couple times but gave up.

"I- I didn't realise you had heard that, forgive me."

"Don't worry, I liked it," you winked.

It was almost as though he was having a software malfunction. He was blushing hard and staring at you in shock.

"I- uhm- you did?"

"Only because it was you," you smiled, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I should get to bed."

He nodded in response and waved goodnight. You went to bed, going through your normal nightly routine before falling into a deep sleep. Connor however, sat up late into the night thinking about you.

#detroid become human #detroit rk800 #rk800 #dbh connor x reader #detroit become human #connor dbh fluff #writers on tumblr #hank anderson #writing #protective #flirting #cute #dbh connor

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Man with the Empty Heart

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, mention of the murder and suicide attempt, trauma, mourning, manipulation ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night she slept for only an hour, but experienced no rest during that time, tormented by nightmares. In her dream, a group of men rushed into her chamber, two of them holding her tightly as the third cut her throat − she choked, unable to catch her breath, her red blood gushing onto her nightgown and bedding.

When she finally opened her eyes she rose quickly to sit up, panting and shivering, all welted up, catching herself quickly by the throat, letting the air out of her lungs, feeling that there was no wound on it.

She sat at the table barely conscious when her morning meal was brought in, not even noticing that Vhagar was suddenly at her side, towering over her with his hands folded behind him.

"I hope you slept well, Princess." He said low, and she looked at him resentfully, knowing full well that he was mocking her. She turned her head away, reaching for a bread, not saying a word to him.

She thought he was a man who derived satisfaction from dominating and watching someone else's suffering.

He was perfectly suited to the job his father had assigned him, and he was certainly bored in her company, but he couldn't express it any other way.

He left her chamber as she ordered her servants to help her get dressed, looking at her reflection in the mirror with indifferent eyes, knowing what day it was and what she should do.

She visited her once every three days − the medics believed that more frequent visits would take her out of balance and increase her hysterical attacks.

When she stepped out into the corridor, walking ahead, she didn't look at him, but she knew he had moved immediately behind her − she felt his presence with all her being, his aura hung over her like a black storm cloud.

They made their way to a part of the fortress where servants and other court residents were not allowed to venture − two guards stood in front of the entrance leading to the stairs to the tower, but they did not stop her when she started to climb up, intense sunlight shone through the little windows.

The door to the small chamber was opened for her − she heard Vhagar stand still, having no intention of going inside. She stopped in mid-step, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"I want you to accompany me." She said in a disapproving voice, recognising that if he was going to tease and torment her with his behaviour, she would do the same.

He walked in behind her reluctantly and closed the door; her mother looked at her as if she didn't recognise her for a moment, and then smiled broadly, sleepily, bruises under her eyes − she was pale, her face unhealthily thin.

She seemed to weigh as much as a feather.

"My beloved child." She said softly, weakly, embracing her, and she reciprocated her grip, closing her eyelids, feeling a tightness in her throat at the thought that her father had locked her in a tower like some kind of animal.

It seemed to her that for her mother, Vhagar was indeed a ghost, for she sat with her on her bed holding her hand and looked only at her, as if she did not notice his presence at all.

"Why didn't Loras come with you? I can't even remember my little son's face anymore." She muttered in pain, and she lowered her gaze, not knowing how to explain to her that her father had decided that the future heir to the throne might be harmed by being with a mother who, in his understanding, had lost her sanity.

She swallowed loudly and tried to smile.

"He has more and more responsibilities as the future king, but he still speaks of you and has ordered to give you his warmest greetings and wishes for a quick recovery." She mumbled out with difficulty − her mother looked at her uncertainly, wrinkling her brow in disbelief.

"I am perfectly well." She spoke quieter and quieter, as if fading away in front of her − she squeezed her hand tighter not knowing how to reassure her, feeling the burning under her eyelids.

"I know, mother. I know." She said and smiled warmly, with concern − her mother smiled back at her too and only after a moment did her gaze escape to the side, her lips parted slightly in disbelief.

She turned over her shoulder wanting to see who she was looking at and swallowed loudly, stroking her skin with her thumb.

"It's Vhagar, mother. My guardian. He protects me and accompanies me everywhere." She said heavily, pretending she felt no terror looking at him, but she heard no reply, her mother looking at him with wide eyes, as if she had indeed seen a ghost.

"The gods are gracious." She said in a trembling voice, and she shook her head, not understanding what she was talking about.

"What?" She asked quietly, wanting her to repeat herself, to expand on the thought, but she was still looking at him, her dry lower lip trembling.

"You came for me like a death? Have you come to relieve my suffering at last?" She asked starting to shudder all over − she put her hands on her shoulders, stroking her reassuringly, thinking with horror that seeing his clothes and mask she imagined that he was indeed the personification of death.

"Mother, he is a guardian, he will not hurt you. He will protect us." She said soothingly to her, and she nodded quickly, as if to reassure her that she did indeed believe her words.

"Don't take her away. Have mercy on her and my son, they didn't know." She mumbled and she embraced her, stroking her hair.

"Mother, stop, please. Please." She mumbled out clenching her eyelids, feeling tear after tear run down her skin − only holding her in her arms did she find to her horror that all that was left of her was skin and bone.

"You need to rest, mother. You need to eat and rest. I'll bring you couple new books next time, all right?" She choked out wearily, and her mother nodded, saying no more.

When they got out of there she walked ahead for a while, feeling everything swirling around her, thinking only of the fact that it had all happened gradually, that at first her despair at what her father had done, at the extent of this massacre, seemed to everyone a natural reaction to what had happened.

However, then her mother began to hear strange noises, to speak of a secret passage through which ghosts passed, of hearing a child crying inside her chamber.

She stopped, gripping a pillar with her hand, seeing darkness in front of her eyes for a moment, breathing loudly, feeling the weight of it all crush her more and more.

She felt his gaze on her, his presence, his silence.

"Kill me." She said quietly, but she was sure he heard it, not a living soul around them.

Silence.

"Please, kill me." She whispered again, pressing her forehead against the cold stone pillar, closing her eyes, waiting for the sound of his footsteps, for the dagger to cut her throat.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes, as if suddenly regaining consciousness, and let out a loud breath, moving ahead again, his footsteps behind her echoing around them.

She spent the rest of the day in the library, trying to read but unable to concentrate, looking out of the window at the people walking around the castle courtyard, guards, merchants and servants speaking amongst themselves.

That same evening, as she sat alone in her chamber, sitting by the fireplace, gazing into the flames, Vhagar came in and walked up to her, keeping an appropriate distance.

"The King wishes to dine with you, Princess. Alone."

She lifted her gaze to him, sensing that there was something definitive in his words, and furrowed her brow, feeling uneasy.

Alone?

Why?

She swallowed loudly and nodded, getting up to leave − she heard him move behind her but he did not enter with her into the chamber where the King was staying, allowing the door to close behind her with a loud clatter.

She walked closer to the table behind which her father was sitting − he was eating without waiting for her and nodded for her to sit opposite him. She obeyed his command but did not put anything on her plate, looking at him expectantly.

"What's the matter, Father?"

"I heard you visited your mother again." He said indifferently, sipping the piece of bread he had just chewed with wine from his golden, ruby-decorated chalice.

She pressed her lips together feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach and a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Vhagar telling him what had happened.

"Yes." She replied coolly, lifting her gaze to him, trying to calm her breathing, her heart pounding like mad. Her father murmured under his breath, reaching for a grape, which he tossed into his mouth with a light movement and bite through it with a loud crunch.

"I have moved her to another chamber. She has a bad effect on you, reminding you constantly of these... unpleasant events." He said lowly reaching for another grape − she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen as if she was about to vomit, her lips parted in disbelief.

"What? Where?" She asked unable to hide the tremor in her voice in which lurked growing terror and panic, her father lifting his gaze to her.

"Her fate is no longer your concern." He said in a firm, impatient voice.

She got up quickly and ran out of his chamber with a loud slam of the door, moving swiftly ahead down the dark corridor, choking on her own tears, unable to catch her breath, seeing that there was no one in the passage where the guards still stood in the morning.

She ran quickly up the stairs hearing loud footsteps behind her, stumbling and almost falling, bursting into her mother's chamber, which was now completely empty.

She clutched her stomach, leaning against the cold wall with her hand, and she sobbed loudly, slipping slowly down. She approached her bed and laid her head on the sheets where she and her had been sitting just a few hours ago.

She heard him stop in front of the door, heard his accelerated breathing, knew he was staring at her. She looked at him with hatred, rising slowly and grabbed the candlestick that stood on the table in her hand, swinging, wanting to smite him.

"You fucking bastard!" She growled in fury as she wrestled with him, his black-gloved hands squeezed her firmly by her wrists, easily blocking any of her movements.

"− tell me where she is − please −" She muttered pleadingly, feeling her rage turn to desperation, the candlestick fell from her hand with a loud thud of steel against the stone floor, his bright eye staring at her mercilessly.

"− please − please, Vhagar, I don't want her to be alone −" She mumbled in pain, tightening her fingers on his long leather coat, staring into his cold, emotionless mask, hearing only his quiet breathing.

"It's too late."

She looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head, struggling to catch her breath.

"− what do you mean? −" She asked in a trembling voice, hearing only the loud pounding of her heart.

"She didn't suffer."

She clenched her fingers on his shoulders so tightly that she felt as if they would pierce through the material of his coat into his flesh, an unnaturally high-pitched whine of despair erupted from her throat, she pressed her forehead against his chest.

"− gods, what have you done? −" She mumbled in horror, looking up at him, breathing with difficulty, everything around her was spinning. "− Vhagar, what have you done to her? −"

"It was your father's order."

His grip on her wrist eased; he didn't move from his position or push her away − he simply stood like a statue, waiting for her to calm down. She felt her body begin to spill into his hands, numb and soft, that she was losing consciousness, his arms caught her tightly before she fell to the stone floor.

When she woke up all around her was complete darkness. She thought with relief that it was just a dream, like the nightmares she experienced in the morning. When she looked around she noticed that she was back in her chamber, in her bed.

She turned her head sideways and froze, noticing a seated figure in a black mask on one of the chairs beside her bed − he was sitting with his legs crossed, looking straight at her, his left hand resting on the table top, his finger tapping it gently without making a sound.

She felt a tear of helplessness run down her face onto the pillow under her head, her lips parted at the realisation that it was all true.

Why had he stayed?

Was her father afraid she would commit suicide?

"You were supposed to protect her." She said in a trembling, weak, quiet voice full of remorse. He was silent for a long moment.

"I did."

She furrowed her eyebrows at his words, feeling her lower lip begin to tremble. She swallowed hard with a shake of her head.

"I showed her mercy. Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life. I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep, although he suggested hanging. He thought it would look more...natural."

She stared at him for a moment and then closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, twisting onto her side and curling up like a small child, huddling into the furs that lay beside her, feeling her whole body twitching.

Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life.

He suggested hanging.

He thought it would look more natural.

"When will it be made official?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he hummed under his breath, turning his face to the side.

"Tomorrow morning the King will convene a gathering and announce the sorrowful news." He said indifferently. She swallowed loudly and closed her eyes.

"Do you still have that poison?"

She heard him move restlessly in his seat, felt him hesitate for a second.

"…yes."

She opened her eyelids, extending her trembling hand towards him.

"Have mercy on me too." She said in a pleading, tender voice.

He stared at her for a long moment, and then stood up slowly with a loud creak of wood, walking over to her, pulling a small vial of clear liquid from his pocket.

He handed it to her and she rose to sit down, feeling her whole body quiver, her breath hitched, her heart pounding like mad.

She wanted silence to finally resound in her mind.

She wanted her heart to stop aching.

She wanted to stop being afraid.

She looked at him with huge eyes, swallowing loudly.

"Is it going to be painful?" She asked in a trembling voice − he stood looking at her, she could see his iris shining in the moonlight that fell outside the window.

"No. You'll just fall asleep." He explained softly, his voice surprisingly calm. She nodded, feeling relieved at the thought and unscrewed the cork, looking at the liquid contents inside and lifted it quickly to her lips, pouring its contents down her throat.

She looked up at him, horrified at what she had done, thinking about how a part of her wanted to take it back, how she didn't want to die, but that it was too late.

It was already decided and nothing could be done.

She laid her head on her pillow feeling the tears of helplessness run down her cheeks − she looked at him pleadingly, her lips trembling.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked quietly, placing her hands on her stomach, not wanting to be alone now, not wanting to walk away inside an empty, dark room.

"Yes."

She closed her eyes, feeling with pain that her head began to hum, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier, slowly beginning to lose consciousness until she fell into a deep, pleasant sleep.

She shuddered as she felt someone force her mouth open and pour something forcefully down her throat − she began to cough loudly, her body went into convulsions, her stomach clenched tightly. She felt someone lift her up to sit and hold her as she began to vomit, heard his voice near her ear.

"Come on, you have to get it out of your body. Yes, there we go." She heard his low whisper as she vomited again into the bowl he held in front of her. She was panting loudly drenched in tears, her whole body shivering as if in a fever, her stomach clenched so tightly she felt like screaming in pain.

"One more time. Very good. Just like that." He hummed and helped her lie on her side so that she didn't choke. She was breathing unevenly, trembling, felt his hand take her hair from her face and was only able to think that he pulled off his gloves.

She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep again, waking only to vomit again, each time he sat in the same place, his hand on her back.

She had the feeling that it was all just a figment of her imagination.

That it wasn't really happening.

In the morning she had the feeling that what she felt was the opposite of a painless death − her body welted from the fever, all sweaty, her heart had slowed down, everything around her seemed hazy to her.

She heard someone rise from a chair, heard someone's slow footsteps, his figure stood above her like a great, tall black smudge.

"Why?" She asked quietly, struggling to keep her eyelids from closing.

A long silence answered her before she heard his low, deep voice.

"I changed my mind."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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jeonscatalyst · 4 months ago

Note

Hi there

Sorry for any grammar or spelling issues English is not my first language. I was never a fan of bts I have heard about them bt was never really interested. So about a year ago or I think in the beginning of this year I saw a reel on YouTube abt TH and JK at the airport where TH was trying to hold JK hand and I didn't understand ppl where commenting abt how they were finally coming out and JK was shy or scared and all I could think abt was that JK body language was "the hell you trying to hold my hand for" that's what I got. Remember now I didn't know them didn't even know their names bt that reel was just cringe for me,and I didn't even know there was shipping going on in bts😩... Bt about 6or7 weeks ago a saw a funny video of them on insta and rm caught my attention so I searched their songs on YouTube became a instant fan bt then I got obsessed with jimin. Well suddenly all these tkk reels started coming on my tml and I was curious at first because there were so many tkk stuff and ppl always commenting under posts tkk is real I looked Into that first and I got to say I don't know how ppl can say they a couple bc I didn't even know abt jkk and those tkk stuff got me messed up coz when a saw a vmin reel I was like yeah they can maybe be a couple bt Def not tkk so I started searching jimin Omg that man is heaven Send... And low and behold jkk stuff popped up on my time line, my god when I tell you about the butterflies I felt when a saw that reel about 2018 where it looks like JK wanted to devour jm I knew a was at the right place.. Now I still don't know very much abt jkk I'm still looking into it bt for me who didn't even know bts or abt tkk, vmin, and jkk and learning about tkk before even knowing abt the other 2 bt saw at first glance that no a big hell No are the a couple, now for me that says alot because I would vmin a chance of being real before tkk. And can you maybe tell where and what I can watch to know more abt bts and jkk... I really love all 7 so much.

Hi anon.

No don’t worry, your English is fine and welcome to the world of BTS and shipping even though it’s crazy out here so buckle up lol.

I guess some people see something in taekook while others don’t and you happen to be one of those who doesn’t. For me, it’s always been clear that taekook are just friends not just because I couldn’t see anything beyond friendship but because all the evidence and common sense points to them being just friends but I guess not everyone sees things the same way and that’s why we still have tons of taekookers out there.

As for Jikook, they’ve always been the most likely pair to be real to me not just because of what I see or feel about them but because there’s been alot of that has strongly pointed to the possibility of them being more than friends over the years. I cannot swear that we are right about them being a couple because we never know but I know for a fact that they have and have always had an incredibly deep bond. Also, I am positive that taekook are nothing more than friends, no matter what taekookers would like to say about them and the solo era.

I would advise that you try to find and watch as much original content as possible. You can find some on Youtube, daily motion, weverse etc. Try to avoid youtube, instagram or tiktok edited videos because those tend to take out alot of context which makes you misunderstand alot of their interactions or moments. You can also check out @stormblessed95 blog. She has done an incredible job in explaining their dynamics and breaking things down. She is also the best person to go to if you need to find a specific content. To know more about the other members you can follow member focused accounts on any social media platform but make sure you are not following toxic or delusional shippers or solos because they could influence you to start hating on or being shady towards other members. Find content like run bts, In the soop, Bon Voyage to really get to know them. You can also watch their Vlives from weverse. Those are good places to start and you can always send in asks if you have questions about anything. Hope you have a great time catching up with content anon💜

#jikook #taekook #jimin #jungkook #my asks #jikook blog

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honorarysimp · 7 months ago

Text

Interlude: The Diner

series masterlist

Out of everywhere in town you’ve been since you arrived two weeks ago, this is the only place you’ve truly felt safe.

The diner was a blast from the past, a relic of a time long gone. The checkered linoleum floor worn and scuffed in places, and vinyl-covered booths gave the place a retro feel, while the crackled and faded wallpaper added a touch of nostalgia.

The smell of stale coffee and fried food hung in the air, adding a distinct atmosphere to the place.

The diner was dimly lit, the fluorescent tubes above the counter casting a harsh, almost clinical light over the small space. In one corner, an old radio played quiet music, the sound barely reaching a few booths in the room.

You are currently sat in a booth towards the back, visibly exhausted beyond measure as you nurse a cup of black coffee.

Coffee is suppose to be the answer to everything, but you’ve had to reconvey your initial claim the last week.

Your phone suddenly rings loudly in the quiet diner, the sharp sound causing you to flinch, jarring and breaking the ambiance like a hammer against glass. You glance down at the screen, expression darkening as you saw the word "Mayor" flash across the display.

With a heavy exhale, you let the call ring through to voicemail. The Mayor was the last person you want to deal with at the moment. You’re frustrated and exhausted, as this investigation seems to be leading nowhere.

Why answer her when you have nothing to report? She knows where to find you if she’s that desperate for results.

You reach into your coat pocket and retrieved your tape recorder. You lay it on the worn tabletop and looked at it for a moment with a slight grimace.

You hesitate before starting the recording, the weight of your lack of progress weighing heavily on you. With a weary sigh, you hit the record button and began speaking, voice low and tired.

"It's been two weeks since I arrived here, and so far, I've got nothing. No leads, no suspects, just a whole lot of dead ends."

You continue, your voice growing more frustrated as you detail your efforts thus far.

"I've tried everything," you admit, hand running through your hair in exasperation. "Witness interviews, forensic analysis, even digging through records going back decades. But every time I think I'm onto something, it just leads nowhere."

You lean back in the booth, shoulders slouched in exhaustion. "It's like this town is intentionally keeping secrets."

You pause for a moment, expression thoughtful.

"The people here," you begin, voice a bit softer. "They're just as much victims as anyone. I've started to get to know some of them, and they're just trying to live their lives. But then there's this..."

You trail off, expression conflicted. You knew you’ve always tried to be logical and professional when it comes to your job, ruled by rationality and evidence. But this case is pushing your boundaries, forcing you to question your own beliefs.

"Maybe... maybe there's no logical explanation," you admit, voice barely a whisper “the only thing that’s consistent is the fact one person goes missing a month, but even that doesn’t make sense because it stops and starts randomly- goddamn it.”

You hit the pause button on the tape recorder, frustrated. You sit back, the silence in the diner somehow making the weight of the case even heavier.

You sat for a moment, eyes unfocused as you mull over everything that has happened in the last two weeks. The disappearances, the dead ends, the strange events... everything about this case was slowly chipping away at your certainty, your usual rational mind struggling to find footing.

You start the tape recorder again, voice weary but determined.

"The attack in the woods," you began. "I've tried to make sense of it, but it just doesn't add up. The masked figure came out of nowhere, silently and unexpectedly. The knife cut me, but there was no blood, no trace of any kind at the scene. And even after searching, there were no footprints or tracks of any kind. Nothing."

You trail off, eyes fixed on the tabletop. "It's like the assault never even happened."

You again continued, tense with disbelief. "And then there's Wes," you say, shaking your head. "He just vanishes after walking into the lake. We've searched the lake more times than I can count, and we haven't found a body. Nothing. It's like he just vanished into thin air."

Your frustration and confusion becomes more and more evident the more you spoke, the mystery of the case growing more complex with each passing moment as you verbally try to debunk it aloud. "It makes no sense," you mutter, raking a hand through your hair once more, knee bouncing in a fidget underneath the table.

You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm your frustration. "The disappearances, the attack, the lack of any solid evidence... everything about this case just feels wrong. Like there's something bigger going on, something just out of my grasp.”

You look down at the tape recorder, brow furrowed. "But how do I solve something when I can't even see all the pieces? How do I find answers when everything I've tried leads to more questions?"

You sat slumped in the booth, gaze unfocused as you wrestle with your thoughts. "I need... I need..." you repeat in a low voice, frustration and desperation mingling in your tone.

I need a fucking cigarette.

You clench your fists, refocusing on trying to piece together the elusive clues in your mind. "I need something decisive, something concrete," you continue, eyes sweeping over the steam rising from your mug as if the answers were etched within the small bubbles resting on the liquid’s surface.

You let out a heavy sigh, the frustration etched on your face. You reach out and hit the pause button, shutting off the tape recorder.

You lean back in the booth once again, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. The weight of the case hung heavily on you, the lack of progress a crushing disappointment. Never has a case had you so in the weeds before, you should have something by now.

"I need to find something," you mutter to yourself, jaw clenched. "I can't keep spinning my fucking wheels like this."

You rest your elbows to the table for a moment, rubbing a hand over your face as if trying to scrub away the fatigue and temporary defeat. Everything about this case was getting under your skin, the lack of progress wearing on your already frayed nerves.

The Diner's bell jangled as someone entered, causing you to look up from your thoughts. Your gaze lands on Tara of all people, who had just walked in.

You register the first responder uniform she is wearing, coming to the conclusion that she must be working the night shift. Or just got off it, depending on what time it is, that of which you aren’t sure. Your eyes lingered on her for a moment, taking in her tired but determined expression.

Her head turns and you’re already meeting her gaze, a pause between you, and then you silently gesturing for her to join you. You see the hesitation on her face, the fatigue and worry that mirrored your own. But after a moment, she relents and walks over to the booth, sliding into the seat opposite you.

“Hey” you start softly, watching her take your coffee mug off the table and take a small whiff before taking a sip.

You don’t question it.

“Nothing yet on our end, you?”

You shake your head, “even if we did, I’m sure Sam would be the first one to let you know.”

Tara nods, and you both fall silent.

The one waitress that seems to be working tonight walks over, she gives you both a kind smile.

“You’re working late tonight, Cici” Tara says politely, which makes the woman laugh good naturely.

“I could say the same to you, coffee?”

“Please.”

She scribbles it down, glancing back up “and the usual?”

Another nod from Tara, which then has Cici’s gaze going to you expectantly.

“I’m still doing okay with just coffee-“

“The Detective will have what I’m having Cici, thank you” Tara cuts you off, making Cici glance between you knowingly as she jots the order down and heads off without another word.

You look to Tara and narrow your eyes, but she beats you to it before you can speak.

“I wish you’d stop making assumptions about me, you know.”

A pause, you reach across the table for your mug but she pulls it from your reach.

There’s a good chance Tara is talking about the last conversation you two had before you found Wes and Chad, but of course you’d hate to assume.

So you wait for her to continue, after a moment her expression softens slightly and she nudges your coffee mug back across the table to you.

“For what it’s worth, I’m rightfully in the same boat. Worrying certain people are only around for information, for wanting to know things rather than-“ she stops, clearing her throat.

That’s when you get it. The hot and cold.

“Look… I’ve never once been dishonest with you, I’ve got no reason to be” you start slowly, giving your still aching shoulder a little roll before reaching across the table to accept your mug back.

“But-“ you pause, as your fingers brush against hers, neither of you acknowledge it as you pull the coffee mug back to your side “unfortunately that’s the one thing I’m under contract not to tell you, which is who hired me. You already know why I’m here, and if there’s one thing I can promise you is that I’m not using you for any reason.”

She is clearly skeptical, you can tell by the way she looks at you. But you can also see that slight softness between her brow, like she wants to believe you.

You sip your coffee, sitting it to the side before placing your palms flat on the table top, “ask me anything you want, no pool games, no deals, no trades, no bullshit. And then I’ll do the same.”

That look returns, the one Tara gave you a week ago when you’d asked her out for drinks.

“You still are trying to pick my brain” Tara says with an amused tone, you offer a smile and shrug.

“I wanna know you, is that so hard to believe?” You say as you nudge your coffee mug back over to her, a silent offer.

Tara eyes you, then the mug, then you again. She’s fighting back a smile, something you’ve noticed she does a lot with you. In a way you consider it a win, because it means she’s starting to like you even when she doesn’t want to.

“Fine” she agrees, pushing the coffee mug back across the table to you before crossing her arms, “but you’re on thin ice hot shot.”

You grin, trying not to feel triumphant for finally managing to somewhat get through to her.

“First things first, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

The disapproving look Tara gives you makes you laugh harder than it should, which in return, makes her smile more than she should.

And for the first time in a while, a sense of normalcy envelops you both. It won’t last, but for now, it’s nice.

previous, next

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you

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