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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years ago

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The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- I have no idea where this is going, but its definitely going. Also, just for some supplemental texture--> John’s townhouse Y/n’s apartment)

The Arrangement

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, some angst, John being kind of an asshole.

Sweet Surrender

John leaned back in the dark leather chair positioned behind his mahogany desk, his elbows propped on the upholstered arm rests and his fingers touching at the tips. Besides work, there was a lot of his mind, most of it having to do with Y/n. They weren't his usual thoughts of her though, these were troubling. Something had changed with her and lately, he had been starting to sense that she was unhappy. Y/n hadn’t out-rightly said so, but it was in the little things; she’d stopped offering him details on the life she lived outside of their shared moments and all in all, she wasn’t her typical light, carefree self.

In the beginning, it was Y/n’s bubbly personality that had attracted him, enthralling him. Before, he’d usually find his women via other means, there had only been a few others and they were all nice enough, good at following orders and fun in bed. But nonetheless, Y/n was certainly his favorite, upon meeting her, John could easily tell that she was a natural submissive and wasn’t thoughtless like those gone by. She didn’t take her role in his life lightly either, and John cared for her in a way that he hadn’t for anyone one else. Which was why it stung to think that he wasn’t doing right by her, their arrangement was supposed to bring them both pleasure, but if he wasn’t doing that for her, then half the purpose was lost. He wondered what had caused her discontent, up until then, he figured that he had been good to Y/n, he took care of her needs; sexual, financial and otherwise, he tried to listen when she needed an ear and always respected her boundaries.

He’d have to bring it up soon, John wasn’t afraid of addressing it, besides, it was nearing the eleventh month of their first contract, they’d have to discuss whether or not they wanted to renew it or not. Usually, John never renewed them, by the end of the year, he'd often find himself yearning for a fresh face, letting his latest attraction go like dust on wind, but that year it was different and he couldn’t see himself growing tired of Y/n in the foreseeable future. John knew what he wanted, the final decision would have to be Y/n’s.

“Mr. Wick?” his secretary poked her little brunette head into his office, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts. With a hum and annoyance expertly kept at bay, he glanced up, meeting a pair of clear green eyes. Abigail was just a few years older than Y/n and had been his secretary for going on three years. He could never tell what her angle was though, with all the tight shirts and short skirts, sure she was pretty enough, but it was the kind of beauty John could see himself getting bored of quickly. She didn’t really have much of a defining personality either, very two dimensional and he suspected that she didn’t have much more depth than she offered at face value. She was nothing like Y/n who was intelligent and exciting. “Your one o’clock is here,” even after she delivered her message, Abigail stayed there, still holding the door open.

With a quiet sigh, John sat up straighter, slowly moving to stand, “Is that all Abigail?” He didn’t even spare a minute to look at her, though, he could feel her eyes on him. When she offered a meek yes, finally turning to walk away, he called her back, just remembering something, “Did you finish the draft I asked you to work on?”

After a moment of hesitation, and shuffling her feet childishly, “No, Mr. Wick, I haven’t-”

“How the fuck am I supposed to start the deposition on Monday without it?” He snarled, glaring at her; John absolutely hated excuses, especially when he could tell they were going to be baseless. Alarmed, Abigail jumped, her face going pale and her eyes glassy. Apologizing profusely, she cast her gaze to the shiny marble floor, but John was too irritated to care. He’d have fired her right on the spot, but he needed someone working his receptionist’s station and for that draft to be finished by the end of the day. So, he’d spare her, for now. “Just….get it done by five,” he’d wanted to leave by four thirty to get ready for dinner later that evening, but he’d spare Abigail the half hour, “And get the hell out of my office.” Without another world, Abigail scurried out and John finished gathering his materials, almost ready to head to the elevator when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was a text from Y/n, and despite himself, he smiled, she never ceased to brighten his day a little. She had sent a picture of the dress she’d purchased for the night, per his request; a short, dusty mauve, chiffon one with a cowl neck and thin straps at the shoulders. Directly below that picture was another of strappy nude stilettos with thin five inch heels, John adored seeing her in high heels, especially those pencil thin, dangerous looking ones. The attachments were followed up by a simple question, “Are these okay?”

John moistened his lips, already able to picture how the outfit would look on Y/n, definitely good enough for him to want to keep her in the bedroom. She had a wonderful sense of style and normally looked good in anything. Usually, John preferred to be there when she shopped, ensuring that she wasn’t worrying about prices and that things like lingerie were suited to his tastes, but in the event that he was unavailable, John had found that she was fine on her own. “Those are perfect,” he sent the text, locking his phone and heading out of his office to the conference room.

John detested Y/n’s apartment. It was small, no, small would be an understatement, it was tiny and if he’d had his way when they were first checking places out for her, John would have seen that she’d gotten something bigger. But, he was deep in lust and Y/n hadn’t been happy with any of the other that the real estate agent took them to. In fact, it had taken almost a month for her to find that place in New York City and, when they had gone to see it, Y/n had instantly fallen in love with the quaint, cool-toned, vintage styled apartment with beige and mellow blue walls, light hardwood floors and white wooden doors that were intentionally made to look faded and unfinished. The decorator that John had hired kept with the natural vintage theme too, adding an old fashioned farm sink, a charming mix of stained marble and tiles on the kitchen counter, homely rugs and even a 1950’s refrigerator solely for aesthetic purposes. Thankfully, the running fridge was integrated and actually from their century.

As time passed, Y/n had also ensured that her love for houseplants were reflected in her decor too. She had one in every room, always watered and tended to, some growing cheerful flowers while others just maintained a healthy greenness.

Before Y/n had moved in, John had been sure to ask her well over three times if she was sure about her decision, and each time she’d assured him that she was. Y/n had eventually explained that if she lived in something bigger she wouldn’t have a clue on what to do with the extra space, it was just her and Theo anyway.

John stood at Y/n’s door for a minute, searching for her key on his bunch, casually looking up and down the hall. Thankfully, the neighborhood and by extension, the building, was a nice one. Upon finding the right key, John slipped it into the lock, turning twice. As he entered Y/n’s apartment, John called out to her, though, before she could answer, he felt a gentle rubbing on his leg; Theo.

Chuckling, he bent, scooping up the grey Scottish fold. John held the cat to his chest, absently running his fingers affectionately on his soft head, “Where’s your mom?” He asked, already walking towards the living room, earning himself a meow.

“Oh,” Y/n was just hurrying out from the other side of the living room, barefoot and still in her silk lilac robe, though her hair and make up was already done, “John,” her eyes went wide and she looked down in embarrassment, clearly alarmed, “I’m so sorry, I must have heard the time wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured sternly, “I’m early, don’t worry about it,” he waved off her worry, still holding Theo in his arms. John had never been a cat person, but Y/n’s four year old rescue had taken a liking to him upon their first meeting and John at some point, the furry fella had grown on him.

“Thank you,” she smiled lightly and John offered a faint smile of his own in return, “Theo!” Y/n scolded just realizing that he was in John’s arms, “You’re gonna get cat hair all over John.”

“It’s okay, he just wants a little attention,” John sat himself on her olive colored living room sofa, the length of his legs exaggerated by how low it was, “Go finish getting ready,” he urged and after a brisk nod of compliance, Y/n hurried off again.

John’s hand was low on Y/n’s back as they followed the hostess to their party’s table in the high end French restaurant. Their table was near an elaborate indoor fountain, beneath a glittering chandelier and as they approached, Y/n could see that a middle aged couple was already seated with a round of drinks. Putting on her best smile, she waited for John to introduce her before offering her hand, “Ellis, Lauren, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Her breath hitched excitedly at the word, even if that was the way John always introduced her, it wasn’t like he went around telling people that he had an, by all intents and purposes, a paid for fuck doll. Still, it was enough to feed her hope that one day, maybe in the distant future, he could actually see her as that, as his girlfriend, that the word wouldn’t just be a cover.

“It’s nice to meet you,” after a moment of bewilderment and obvious hesitation, they took turns shaking her delicate hand, and Y/n did her best to maintain her trained smile; she was used to dealing with snobs anyway.

Even as they introduced themselves; Lauren and Ellis Capeldai, Y/n could see they were judging her; a girl her age, with a nearly middle aged, rich, powerful man? In their minds, Y/n could only be one thing. But alas, she was used to it, and if John had taught her anything, it was that opinions didn’t matter, they were consenting adults, and whatever they did with their personal lives was no one’s but their business.

John pulled out her chair and just as Y/n sat, John did too, immediately engaging conversation with Ellis. They glazed over small talk for a couple minutes, before getting into the specifics of a case; the Capeldais’ owned a private clinic in the city and had recently had a malpractice suit brought against them. Quietly, from her position next to John, she tried to keep up with their conversation, though, she only knew that much when it came to legal and medical jargon; an English degree could only take you that far in certain directions. In fact, the only thing she could deduce was that someone’s relative had died and that John was positive that he could prove that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the dead patient’s.

Eventually, it came to the point where the more they spoke, the less Y/n wanted to hear. There was a dirty side to John’s job, or maybe it was just John himself, though Y/n could never bring herself to see him like that, so she blamed it on the trade instead. He was always willing to go the extra mile, or twenty, for his clients, just to make sure that they won, even going those miles meant getting his hands dirty. It was rare for Y/n to see that side of him, the side that he showed clients, that was ruthless and capable of anything in the name of victory and though John’s power and confidence enthralled her, it also scared her.

If he was like that, what else could he be?

Slowly, Y/n retreated into herself, no longer paying any mind to how their conversation unfolded. Working on autopilot, she steered her gaze to the plate before her, using her fork to shift around what was left of her entree, punctuating her movements with the occasional sip of Pinot Noir. Y/n sunk into her own little world until John’s grip held firm on her exposed thigh, his warm breath fanning her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “It’s rude to play with you food darling.” His gravely drawl sent shivers up his spine, “You don’t want to ruin our night by being punished, do you?”

Hastily, Y/n shifted her dilated gaze to meet John’s whiskey pools, the new rosiness in her cheeks brightening her sparsely applied blush, evident to those that sat across from them, “No sir,” she cast her head down out of instinct, “I’m sorry.”

Surely, the Capeldais’ were spectating with intrigue, though, thankfully not hearing a word of John and Y/n’s exchange. “It’s okay,” his rough fingers inched higher, sneaking beneath the hem of Y/n’s dress, “But don’t do it again,” he warned, covering his tracks with a peck on her cheek.

Even when John redirected his attention to his food, his hand still lingered on her upper thigh, slowly working its way further up, his feather light touch ticklish and reflecting in the pooling moisture in her panties. “So Y/n, dear,” Lauren turned to Y/n, her distaste masked under a stiff smile, “What do you do when you’re not being wined and dined by Mr. Wick?” There was malice in her words, Lauren had apparently decided that Y/n was nothing but a gold digger or something of the sort.

For a moment, Y/n glanced towards John, who cleared his throat loudly, thankfully, opting to answer for her, “Y/n works at a bank, you probably know it; Fraser Holdings,” John gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, and by then, his fingers were close enough to brush her crotch, “It’s where we met actually, I had some business there and she caught my eye.” John was a master of controlling narrative Y/n knew that every word of his explanation was chosen carefully, with the intention of carrying an air of vagueness. Y/n wasn’t ashamed of her job as a secretary, it paid the bills, at least, it used to, and she knew that John probably wasn’t either, but some people just weren’t worth the whole truth.

“Oh,” Lauren's stiff, condescending smile was apparently permanently plastered to her no doubt Botox infused face, and her nosiness was proving to be relentless, “And how long have you two been dating?” At the question, the graying Mr. Capadali looked up, he too was intrigued by the question.

Just as the query hit the ear, John’s stocky index brushed her lace clad folds. Caught off guard, Y/n jumped, her eyes going wide and breathing an alarmed gasp, her knee made painful contact with the bottom of the table as she crossed her legs, only serving to squeeze John’s hand in place. Again, she looked to him, but that time, he indicated for her to take the question, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, his trimmed scruff hiding it almost perfectly. “Um…” her words wavered as he rubbed gently, just barely grazing her nub with his pointer, the lace of her panties adding extra, effective friction. “We’ve been together for about a year.”

A slight tugging on Y/n’s thigh was enough of an instruction for her to uncross her legs, parting them slightly. Under the security of the pristine white tablecloth, John pushed aside the crotch of her panties, rubbing Y/n’s cilt slowly with the ‘v’ of his index and middle fingers. Once again startled, she glanced his way, but he merely offered. Her swollen bud throbbed beneath his expert touch and Y/n had to hide the moan that threatened to escape her matted-burgundy painted lips with a lengthy drag of her wine. Her breath shuddered as she set the glass down, quickly looking to John, who'd already rekindled conversation with the older couple, seemingly unaffected by her plight.

Her eyes stayed trained on his side profile though her attention waned; John's handsome features blurring as her orbs glazed over with desire. By then, it wasn't hard to identify the distinct pink hue standing out on her otherwise flushed cheeks and the absence of focus was blatant. The more prolonged John's ministrations became, the closer Y/n got to her tipping point. Just out of the corner of her faulty vision, Y/n could see when John carelessly let the fabric napkin fall over his hardened crotch, the creases and haphazardness of the eggshell material masking his hard on.

Another hitch of her breath came when one of John’s fingers slid further into her drenched heat, her posture, maybe thankfully, not allowing him access to her entrance. Though, John had a solution for everything, no mind how harsh or abrupt it may be, “Well, Ellis, Lauren,” he cleared his throat, pretending to check his watch. A waiter had just cleared their plates and had promised to be back soon with a desert menu, “I think we’ve covered a lot tonight, but Y/n and I have an early start tomorrow,” for the first time in a while, he removed his fingers, dragging them along her inner thigh, messily spreading her slickness. Now hot, bothered and still in the middle of a packed restaurant, Y/n could quickly feel herself growing frustrated at the loss of contact, ready to grab her clutch off its resting place on the table as John signaled a waiter, handing over a business card and requesting that the final bill be sent to his office. Y/n doubted that it was something the establishment regularly did, but there wasn’t a soul willing to deny John Wick. Besides, if he said he was going to pay, there wasn’t a bit of doubt that he wouldn’t. John was a man of his word.

After they’d bid their companions goodnight and safe travels, John led Y/n out of the restaurant, holding onto her into her light petite coat as the valet brought around his navy Maserati, the dark coat shining even in their dimmed surroundings. John, as Y/n had learnt, was quite the car enthusiast and he’d collected quite a few over the years, enough to supply a small dealership, with almost everything from prized, classic muscle cars and widely adored classics to flashy sports cars and of course, some more sophisticated ones.

After they’d gotten in, John had tossed her coat to the back seat and then peeled away from the curb, navigating the car onto the busy street, easily weaving through the thinning traffic. Stealing a glace, Y/n found that John’s expression wasn’t readily readable, though, when, not too long after they’d left, he turned into a deserted, poorly lit, damp alleyway between a shady Chinese restaurant and a low grade department store, she got a pretty clear idea of he wanted. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look in that dress babygirl?” His question strained and mumbled as John undid his seat belt and used the lever beneath his seat to push it back a little. Excitement had Y/n breathing heavily, and she didn’t think to answer his question. “Didn’t I ask you something?” He probed roughly, undoing the belt, button and zipper on his black slacks.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, blushing and blinking quickly, her stomach fluttered when John reached over to undo her seat belt, easily manhandling her over the console and into his lap.

“Well let me show you,” he grunted, grabbing her hand and shoving into his undone pants, over his erection, gasping quietly at the distinct firmness overtaking his member, “See what you do to me? This is all you baby,” he whispered harshly, catching her ear lobe between his teeth.

The alluring aroma of fine wine and musky cologne clouded her senses and Y/n’s breath hitch, the sound quiet, and pitched. “Sir,” she moaned, eyes wide and pupils lust blown as her hand lingered in John’s pants long after he’d stopped applying pressure.

John trailed feverish kisses down the column of her neck, high on the scent of her perfume, occasionally alternating between lapping his tongue over her vein and nibbling her skin. He was definitely going to leave marks, claiming her as his own. As his mouth ravaged her throat, John fiddled with the thin straps of her dress, letting them slip carelessly down the curve of her shoulders, eventually urging her arms out of them and pushing the top down, exposing her breasts, pushed together enticingly by a simple, cream colored strapless bra. “I want you to ride my cock,” John’s fingers slid up her body, thumbs brushing the smooth, stain covered padding over her nipples, before easily undoing the front clasp and freeing her full, voluptuous breasts, “Now,” he growled, pushing aside the crotch of her flimsy thong, his digits brushing the lips of her swollen, soaked pussy.

With anxious hands, Y/n helped John shove his pants down to the area right above his knees, “Come on,” he slouched further into the leather stead in an instant, John’s hands were up her dress, holding her hips in place as she eased down on him. Feeling how he bottomed out inside her, stretching her tightness so wide it burned, Y/n’s head lolled back, squeezing her eyes shut as her loud moan bounced off the windows. “Move, now,” he managed through his clenched jaw after he’d given Y/n a minute to adjust.

Desperate, filthy mewls swirled in the heavy air around them, joining John’s languid grunts as his hips rose to meet hers. Each time Y/n came down on him, her bouncing erratic and harsh, her core slapped his balls, rendering loud, wet, perverted sounds. “Sir,” her breathy cries were the only interruptions of her heady noises.

"Fuck," John hissed, just before taking one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her pebbled nipple and one hand sliding up her back, pressing her chest to his face, "Faster," he urged.

Y/n's eager hands slid up John's chest, the material of his grey button up smooth under her palm, his carnal heat seeping through. She settled them beneath the lapels of his tailored, black blazer, bunching the fabric up in her fingers as she quickened her pace with renewed vigor.

The tinted windows around them fogged over and the purring of the engine fell on deaf ears. John could feel her nails digging into his skin, even through his shirt and the throbbing veins running up his shaft offered Y/n an irresistible friction. Every time she came up, only to sink back down on him, John’s swollen tip reaching her end, Y/n could feel herself drawing closer to the edge. “Please,” she whimpered, pleading for John to permit her release.

John’s hips jerked upwards to slam into Y/n’s center, the remaining hand caught under her dress now aggressively squeezing and kneading her ass. The other violently grabbed a fistful of her head, rearing her head further back so John could ravish her neck without resistance, “Do it,” he commanded between skin pulling bites, “I want to feel your cunt squeezing my cock. You’re my little bitch and I need to feel you cum.”

Before long, Y/n was shuddering; her legs straddling John stiffening and her pussy convulsing as warm juices gushed from her center. Her gasps were broken and her breaths ragged as Y/n’s eyes rolled back and her hold on John’s now wrinkled shirt loosened. With a slackened jaw, the rest of her body went limp and John was the one still moving, though, his thrusts rigid.

The feeling of Y/n milking his cock entwined by the ecstasy that always accompanied being buried deep inside her was pleasurably unmatched and soon, John was following her to release, “Fuck Y/n,” he sputtered, slowing his movement as he spurted bursts of hot seed inside of her, their products mixing as it seeped out, coating Y/n’s thighs and dripping onto his.

It took awhile for their breaths to slow and for any sense of coherence to make its way back into the stilling running car, and even after; they lingered, John’s now flaccid cock still cocooned in her settled center. When he finally guided her off him, John used tissues from the glove compartment to clean Y/n up as she still sat in his lap, and she let him readjust her dress, forgoing her bra, instead just pulling the straps over her arms. When he set her back in the passenger seat, Y/n winced, though she wasn’t half as sore as she’d usually be after sessions with John, when he had more room and time to work with. In fact, hot, spontaneous moments like that one were rare, which arguably only made them more enjoyable.

Except, that night, as Y/n silently watched John clean himself up, his expression stoic, as it typically was, she couldn’t help but feel a little dirty, and not just in a physical way. That dinner hadn’t been her best one with him, she didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him as the villain, willing to desecrate the name of a dead man. Logically, she knew that it was the job, and someone had to do it, but being that good at it? It took guts and a certain kind of coldness that frightened her.

And then, of course, there was the typical issue of their otherwise unattached status. Because, as scary as John was when he was in his element, she still found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, which wasn’t exactly ideal, considering the more she fell, the more it hurt when she remembered that she was just his sub. It was confusing, but mostly it hurt.

The drive back to Y/n’s place was without conversation, though, when John parked on the curb and Y/n had gathered her stuff, namely her purse with generous bits of her bra sticking out the top and her coat draped over it, John grabbed her leg before she could get out, “Do you have vacation days?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, intrigued though not daring to say anything further.

“How many?” John’s eyes were void of anything telling and he wasn’t going to give her more without Y/n’s compliance.

“A month.”

“Good,” John reclaimed his hand, immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and his fingers going to dance on the unlocked, brightened screen. He didn’t look at her again, leaving her bewildered as he came out and jogged to her side, opening the door for her. John helped her out of the car, and with a hand low on her back, he walked to the front double doors of the building, holding one side open but making no move to go in himself. “I want you to take two weeks,” he said, putting his cell away, “I’m taking you to a summer home in North Carolina. Abigail will book a jet for Sunday afternoon, call your boss and tell him you won’t be in on Monday,” and before Y/n could protest that she actually needed to give H.R. a month’s notice, John intervened, “If he gives you any trouble, let me know and I'll talk to him, okay?” By ‘talk to him’, it was quite possible that he meant bullying her boss into giving her the time off without consequence.

“Yes,” her lips quivered in surprise, and Y/n nodded again, “Okay.”

“Okay,” John repeated, stiffly reaching across to peck the side of her lips, “I’ll send you the flight details, and I’ll taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon,” when Y/n agreed, they exchanged pleasant good-nights and John finally let Y/n go, secretly hoping that their trip would do them both some good in terms of their upcoming discussion.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves��

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fanficshiddles · 6 years ago

Text

Consequences, One shot

Thank you for the prompt! Hope you like it :-D

thecutestlittlebunbunfairy said:

Hi! So happy you're doing prompts! I thought of this idea but I'd love to see how you'd do it <3 Basically reader/ofc is trying to submit homework on her phone but accidentally sends a photo of her drinking and she's underage (drinking in the us is 21 so I was thinking she'd be 20?) And professor hiddleston punishes her <3 Thank you!!

Warning: Non-con.

Lauren woke up the following morning, her head pounding after the previous nights’ escapades.

‘Oh god.’ She groaned and put her face in her hands.

But then she suddenly remembered that she hadn’t submitted her homework yet for her English class.

‘Shit!’ She sat up in bed quickly and scrambled for her laptop, but to her dismay the battery was dead. And it would take a while to charge enough for use.

Luckily, she had emailed it to herself. So she was able to get it on her phone. She pulled up Mr Hiddleston’s email and copied it, then she went to her inbox and swiped across to find the forward button. She still felt half asleep, but she knew she had to get it done before going into class that afternoon.

She did NOT want to get on the wrong side of Mr Hiddleston.

As soon as she heard that whoosh noise her phone made, she knew the email was sent. She let out her own whoosh of air in relief and lay back on the bed. She had another hour before she would have to get ready for Uni. She really did not want to go in, but she had to.

A little while later, while she was getting ready and drinking as much water as possible, she received a text from a friend from last night.

Did you get the pictures I sent you?

‘Pictures?’ She muttered and went into her email, that’s when she noticed an email that had come through a while ago. She opened it and laughed, seeing a bunch of pictures from last night.

Her friend had made her a fake ID, so she was able to go out drinking last night for the first time in clubs. There were a few pictures of her dancing around, holding drinks in the club. Then one of her draped over her friends’ shoulder to stay standing at the end of the night.

Lauren smiled and came out of the email. But then her stomach dropped. She felt like she was going to be sick.

‘Oh no… No, no, no, no! Please, no!’ She saw that small icon next to the picture email that meant it had been forwarded…

Not the homework email she had meant to send.

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit!’ She panicked and went into her sent folder to check, and right enough, she had sent her teacher the wrong email. Her teacher now had pictures of her out drinking the previous night.

She almost started crying she was freaking out so much. She quickly sent the actual email with the homework, and added in please excuse the wrong email I forwarded. Hoping that would be enough. Hopefully Mr Hiddleston wouldn’t even open the pictures.

But what if he did?

She managed to brush it off. It’s not like she was the only one to drink underage. And she was only a few months off the legal age. It’s not like Mr Hiddleston would do anything anyway. She shrugged it off and managed to forget about it, even during the classes before English.

When she walked into English, Mr Hiddleston was at the front. He was writing some things up onto the board.

Lauren took her seat near the back of the class and waited while everyone else piled in. When Mr Hiddleston turned around, he instantly looked at Lauren. She wasn’t sure what to make of the look he gave her, but it made her stomach swirl.

Mr Hiddleston was an extremely attractive teacher. He had certainly caused quite a stir when he started at the Uni.

He went through the register, making sure everyone was there. When he called out Lauren’s name, she shivered. His tone was deep and the way he looked at her again, it was like he wanted to eat her alive.

She tried to shake off the weird feeling inside of her, hoping and thinking it was all just in her mind. That she was just being silly.

‘Well, I am pleased that everyone submitted their homework on time… just. And I must say, all very good work, even with some surprises amongst them all.’ He glanced at Lauren again when he spoke.

She tried to sink further down into her chair, knowing exactly what he was getting at. It was obvious now. He had definitely seen the photos.

The rest of the class went by ok. Lauren kept her head down and worked hard, even if she did still have a twinge of a headache. She really was regretting drinking so much. No matter how fun a night it had been.

When the bell rang at the end of the class, Lauren was relieved because that was the last of the day. And meant she could go home and sleep some more.

‘Lauren, please stay behind. I need to discuss your homework with you.’ Mr Hiddleston announced while everyone started packing their bags and heading out of the classroom.

Great. She thought. No doubt she was going to get a lecture about being so careless. Or for drinking underage. Then again, she didn’t think that he would know her age. So maybe she would get away lightly. Or perhaps there was something wrong with her actual homework.

She waited patiently for everyone else to file out of class, then she went up to the front and stood by his desk. He was sitting down and leaned back slightly in his chair when he looked at her.

‘Now, would you like to tell me why you sent me pictures of you while obscenely drunk?’ His tone was firm and it made her squirm under his intense gaze as he removed his glasses.

‘I… I didn’t mean to. My friend sent me the email just as I was sending the homework, I was still half asleep and just got confused. I’m so, SO sorry, Sir. It was a mistake, honestly.’ She rambled quickly.

‘It’s not so much the fact that you sent me the pictures, Lauren. But you do know that it’s illegal to be drinking at twenty, don’t you?’ He narrowed his eyes slightly at her.

Her own eyes widened. So he did know her age. She started shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

‘I, uh, yeah. I’m just a few months away from being twenty-one. It was just one night, for fun. My friend’s birthday and they didn’t want me to miss out.’ She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain herself, especially to her teacher. But the intense way he was looking at her made her so nervous, she wanted the ground to just open up and swallow her.

‘Even if you were just a day under age, Lauren. It’s still against the law.’ Mr Hiddleston stood up, now towering over his student. ‘Not to mention you must have had a fake ID to get in.’ He started walking now, and moved behind her as she stood still. ‘Now that is against the law too.’ He whispered, making her shiver because she could feel his breath against her neck from behind.

‘I… I know.’ She squeaked.

‘And as your teacher, I cannot simply let this slide. The evidence is there, in my inbox. It wouldn’t be very good of me to just let that go, now would it?’ His voice was sultry and teasing, but all Lauren could think about was what he was saying.

Was he really going to tell the head teacher? Or maybe even the police? Since she had broken two laws!

‘Please, Sir. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m sorry, really sorry.’ She spun around quickly, tears formed in her eyes while she looked up at him.

Tom sighed and slipped a hand into his pocket, with the other he stroked his beard while in thought. Lauren really didn’t like the silence, or the way he was looking at her.

‘I can’t let you get away with it. You broke the law, darling. You were very naughty.’

His choice of words startled her slightly, yet she felt something stir inside of her.

‘Not to mention how stupid and reckless that was of you. Do you know what guys out there would do to a young woman as beautiful as yourself? Knowing how young and innocent you are?’ He started to close in on her, she backed up until her bum hit his desk. He kept moving closer until he was directly in her space, her neck was craning to look up at him. ‘You put yourself in such a dangerous situation, Lauren. God knows what could’ve happened to you.’ He chastised.

‘I… I…’ She stuttered, but before she could get any words of any kind out, Tom gripped her chin between his fingers.

‘No use apologising now, darling. I think you need to be punished, properly. To learn the consequences of your actions.’ His eyes darkened slightly and he licked his lips.

‘What?’ She gasped.

Tom grabbed her elbow and led her round to the other side of the desk. He sat down on his chair and yanked her down over his lap. She let out a screech of surprise and tried to get up, but a firm forearm against her back held her down in place. She kicked her legs about as they dangled down at the side of his legs, she tried to push against his legs too but nothing worked.

She was mortified when he flipped her skirt up and yanked her knickers down around her thighs. Before she could comprehend what was going on, Mr Hiddleston brought his hand down hard across her backside.

‘STOP! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?’ She cried out.

‘Teaching you a lesson, or would you rather I sent you to the headmaster?’ He growled, spanking her again.

‘OW! STOP!’ She hissed and tried squirming.

Tom grabbed her wrists because he was getting annoyed with them flailing about, and he brought them in against her lower back and held them there in one hand while he went back to spanking her.

She continued swearing and struggling against him with every smack.

‘If you don’t accept this, I will send you to the headmaster. The police will then be called.’ He growled, pausing.

Lauren hissed and let out a defeated whine, she knew she was going to have to just accept it.

‘That’s what I thought.’ Tom drawled when she stilled and her head hung down in defeat.

By the time he was finished with her, her bum was in agony and felt like it was on fire. She was sure there was blisters, it was that sore. She was sobbing when he helped her to stand up, having to keep his hands on her because her legs were shaking.

‘Are you sorry for being naughty?’ He asked, gripping her chin.

She nodded and sniffled, still trying to fight away the tears.

He pulled her knickers up, then straightened her skirt down as he stood up and kissed the top of her head. ‘Good girl. Now go run along home.’

Lauren looked up at her teacher, in disbelief and full of rage at the same time. She couldn’t believe he just did that to her. But the look he gave her, had her tail going between her legs. She quickly grabbed her bag and practically ran out of the classroom.

Lauren was furious with how her teacher had violated her like that. She was outraged. But she was also slightly annoyed at herself for allowing it to happen. She should’ve just gone to the head teacher herself. Or fought back harder. But after she got home, she found she couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way his large hand had brought her such pain… Being draped over his lap so easily like that… God, she was so wet thinking about it.

That night, her friends were going out drinking again. She toyed with the idea of going, or whether to behave and stay in. Her bum was still sore, a stark reminder about what the consequences for going out last night were. Or more, because of her mistake from sending Mr Hiddleston that email.

Then she got an idea.

She was dolled up and ready to go, to meet her friends. She had her fake ID in her purse again too. She snapped a picture of herself, holding her ID up. Then she attached it to an email and sent it to Mr Hiddleston…

Lauren was no way going to let him dictate her life. She was an adult, after all. And she was still furious, yet also aroused, about the spanking. What’s the worse he can do? Spank her again tomorrow? Well, she would be ready for him this time.

But what she wasn’t ready for. Was when she arrived at the club and was waiting in line with her friends to enter… A black jaguar pulled up alongside, and out got Mr Hiddleston. He marched straight over to the queue and grabbed Lauren’s elbow, yanking her out of the queue and away from her friends. She had no idea how he knew what club she was going to be at.

‘Get in the car.’ He growled in her ear. Not asking, he was telling.

Lauren gulped and squeezed her thighs together, she didn’t even glance back at her friends while she allowed her teacher to take her to his car and usher her into the passenger seat.

When Tom got in, he put his hand firmly on her thigh and squeezed.

‘You obviously didn’t learn your lesson today. Those idiotic boys out there would take advantage of you.’ He pulled the car away from the club and drove down the road. He glanced over at her, his eyes full of hunger. ‘I am going to make sure you can’t walk for a week.’

#Tom Hiddleston #non-con #fan fiction #one shot #consequences

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zizeschmizes · 5 years ago

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helping hand. | solo

WHO: lauren zizes (& antonio zizes)

WHAT: help comes in the form of a call from home.

WHEN: 10/15; late afternoon

WHERE: outside of A Latte Fun Coffee

Lauren pushed out of the coffee shop, walking a few paces away from where patrons passed through into the busy campus spot and paused to put in her earbuds. Finding a job on campus and around town was proving to be a major pain in the ass. Everything from work study assignments to in town gigs had been snatched up long before she'd started looking.

It was her own damn fault, really. Adjusting to the new reality of sophomore year was taking a lot longer than it did in her previous semesters. Then, she'd been lucky enough to snag a choice spot in the library. Working the front desk usually meant long stretches of time spent watching movies and doing her homework in between stacking books to be reshelved and answering the occasional question from a lost student.

Now she was left scrambling. Her softball scholarship covered her tuition and the basics of housing (on campus) and meal plans, but the rest (like living) was up to her. Refusing to touch her savings meant budgeting herself to only the essentials but even those were starting to feel beyond her bank account. New camera lens, an extra external drive to house her pictures, a new fall coat...the dollar signs were giving her a headache.

Lauren sighed. A Latte Fun was her last resort. She'd tried the barista thing back in New Orleans, slinging coffee the spring and summer before her freshman year and it wasn't terrible, just not ideal. Still, a job was a job, and the coffee shop would prove helpful. Not to mention workable with her schedule. She just didn't know when she'd actually sleep. Of course this was all pending, she wouldn't know about the job until later, but the interview had gone well. Still...she needed a backup, just in case.

There was a sharp pressure building at the back of her neck, a sure sign of stress and Lauren absently rubbed at the spot as she made her way back to campus, where a long night of editing was in her future. She'd picked up a side gig, snapping pictures of Homecoming Weekend for Ginsburg's Alumni Association and needed to get the files for last weekend's big game to the webmaster by morning.

The sound of her phone ringing paused the music that played softly from her earbuds and Lauren was prepared to ignore the FaceTime request until she saw the name. She hit 'Accept' and the familiar sight of her eldest brother's face coming into view made brought forth the first genuine smile she'd had all afternoon.

"Hey, Nono."

"Hey! You busy?"

Lauren shook her head and took a break from her walk to sit on a nearby bench. "Leaving the coffee shop. What's up? Where are you?"

Antonio flipped the camera, giving Lauren a brief glimpse of the gym in the background, decked out in LSU purple and gold before turning it front facing. “Just finished up, bout to meet Gabe for food. Haven’t heard from you in a minute.”

“Yeah, I know” she replied, ignoring the tiny pinprick of guilt that followed. “Still tryin’ to get settled with school and stuff.”

Brown eyes, much like her own, held a sympathetic gaze and Antonio shook his head in the camera’s view. “Figured you were busy that’s why I reached out. It’ll be your turn to hit me up next time. Everything okay?”

“Yup!” Lauren nodded, backing up her strained response with a smile that wasn’t as bright as her first one, looking as tired as she felt, and she was seriously regretting a video call. Because she knew her brother and knew he’d pick up on her weird mood right away.

“Something’s wrong. What happened?”

There it was. The worry that she didn’t want to hear. She was fine to handle the problem (that wasn’t even a problem) on her own. As the first of the bunch, Antonio had the responsibility of wrangling the others and keeping them in line. He was their parents’ pride and joy, the dutiful eldest son who’d followed in his father’s footsteps.

Star footballer, exceptional student, LSU’s twice elected homecoming king leaving college a legend, with a degree in hand and a top pick in the NFL draft. He was the blueprint the others were expected to follow and it drove Lauren crazy that on top of everything, her successful, saintly, stupidly handsome brother was also a total sweetheart.

He was good for a deep talk, looking out for his siblings in a way that Lauren always appreciated...but not now. She didn’t want to hear about how ‘things would work out’. She just wanted to hide under her covers for a little while, just enough time to suck it up and stop feeling sorry for herself.

“It’s nothing. Got a lot of work to do, and I’m still lookin’ for a job. But it’s fine, really.” This smile was better than the last, going for subtle as she continued, easing back into a drawl that matched his own. “Congrats on the game, by the way. Y’all ate Florida up.”

Whether or not Antonio bought it, his face gave nothing away. Instead, his lips twisted into a grin that bordered on cocky and for some reason made Lauren miss home more than anything...if only to throw a pillow at his head and wipe it off his face. “Yeah, we did alright.”

“Y’all are number one in the division, it’s more than ‘alright’. How’s Gabe?”

He shrugged. “Still a jackass. You gotta come home sometime, get your brother together.”

Lauren laughed. “He doesn’t listen to anybody.”

“Yeah? Sound familiar?” He grinned at the ‘shut up!’ that followed and the laughter that came after.

“I know he was on best manners with the parents there, though.”

“Oh you know that. We missed you at Homecoming.”

She shrugged. “It’s Homecoming here, now. Our game was Saturday too. We won, by the way.”

“‘We’?”

“Showing my school spirit. I had to take pictures of the events for the alumni association so I went to the game. And I gotta do a few other appearances. For softball stuff. Whatever.” It wouldn’t do to point out that her parents had yet to attend a homecoming at Ginsburg, despite never missing one, or any home game for her brothers at LSU. That ship had long sailed and Lauren had no intention of bringing up old shit.

For his part, Antonio skirted past the topic, recognizing Lauren’s dismissiveness. Still, he couldn’t help but ask his next question. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t need anything?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. Long weekend. Long week ahead.”

“Okay. Well good luck with the job stuff. When’re you hearin’ back from them?”

“I don’t know. Sometime this week.” The ‘hopefully’ was silent, but her tone said enough and Lauren shook her head at her brother’s look of concern. “I’ll be fine.”

The angle of the phone changed slightly, Antonio’s face tilted upwards and he hummed an absent ‘Mhm’ at his little sister before the connection blurred and went on pause.

“Antonio? What…” It was only a minute or two before he returned, now in the driver’s seat of his truck and grinning at a perplexed Lauren. “Where did you go?”

“Check your phone,” he told her, ignoring the question altogether while setting his phone in the holder on the dash. “Should be getting an alert now.”

Sure enough, the muted tone beeped in her ears and Lauren paused the video feed to check the text notification from her bank’s app, and the alert that $300 had been added to her account. The culmination of the rough day, and her brother’s kindness brought a lump to her throat and she swallowed it down, taking a deep breath before resuming the video.

“You didn’t have to do that, Nono.”

Antonio rolled his eyes as if Lauren’s stubbornness was a mild inconvenience and not the Zizes trademark. “Yeah, I did. You need it, I got it, and I know you ain’t askin’ anybody. Especially not Ma or Dad. I got you.”

“Thank you. I’ll pay you--”

“Nope. That’s yours. It’s fine. Just get somebody hot to play me in the movie you write about us, all I ask.”

That made Lauren laugh out loud, drawing a few looks from people ambling on the sidewalks but she paid them no attention. “Issa deal.”

“Good. I gotta get Gabe but I’ll tell him you said hey, okay? Love you, Lozinha!”

The call disconnected and Lauren paused her music. Antonio’s generosity wouldn’t completely solve her problems, but it made things feel a little less chaotic. She would still pursue a job, whether it was at the coffee shop or somewhere else because she wouldn’t rely on that kind of bailout, no matter how much Antonio insisted it was what he was there for.

With a sigh, Lauren pushed off the bench and slinging her bag over her shoulder, began the trek back to her dorm and the mountain of work that waited.

#para.all #para.solo #para001

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noplceinheaven · 7 years ago

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48. “Why are you crying?” + 71 “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” angst…… but make it fashion. hamherc ? this is milo and i feel like im ordering in a drive through

hey milo its time for that sweet sweet hurt/comfort with the cliche trope of the hurricane fear w side panic attack. read it on AO3 if thats ur jam. here we go

Alexander was having a great night. He was a few drinks in, Lafayette and John had been exchanging those lovesick looks they always did, and his crush Hercules was talking about the pride parade he went to with John. He would’ve gone with them if he didn’t hate loud noise, which he knew the parade would be full of. He was scrolling mindlessly through Twitter, taking a sip of water to not get too drunk. He heard one of the other people in the bar start talking— he couldn’t pick up many phrases, but one he got was “well, the hurricane is going to hit…” and his mind went overdrive.

He shoved his phone into his pocket. His eyes widened as he got up from his chair. All he could see was people dead on the shore of the island he was born in. And he thought that maybe it wouldn’t hit New York, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because he’d still have to hear about people dying. Something was pressing at his throat and he couldn’t breathe. He sprinted to the bathroom— it smelled like vomit, and the odor made him dizzy. He headed to one of the stalls and shut the door. He gritted his teeth as he tried to calm his racing thoughts, because God, he wasn’t seventeen anymore, he should just get over this. But he couldn’t breathe and there were dots in his vision and he wanted to go somewhere where there were no hurricanes to be afraid of. “Alexander!” someone called. It sounded a lot like John. “Alexander, are you okay?” He let out a sob in response. He had been crying silently for a few minutes, but he sniffled anyway. “What’s wrong?”Footsteps came and he let himself open the door. It was Hercules— his eyes were wide and he took him into his arms. The smell of his cologne overwhelmed him. “Why are you crying, Alex? You alright?”He let out another sob. He was going to die on this island, there was going to be another hurricane and no way to stop it. His head hurt and Laurens and Lafayette and Hercules— they all would die and he’d die too, washed up onto the shore — “I’m —” he hiccuped, he knew he sounded ridiculous— “I’m sorry!”He hugged him closer. “It’s okay, Alex, just tell us what’s wrong.”“You’re going —” the words hurt to get out. His entire body was fuzzy like he wasn’t really there but in Nevis, water all across his sight. “You’re going to die —”Hercules pat his head and kissed his forehead. He kissed his forehead. He didn’t fully realize this, but his heart still swelled among his panic. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”“Yes, but that’s not— that’s not the point!” he sobbed harder. “You’re going to die just like my town did, and fuck, I don’t want you to, I love you too much to…” he left the sentence hanging. He realized he fucked up— he told Hercules he was into him while panicking. Oh, this was fucking marvelous. God. “Oh,” Hercules said, dumbly, realizing what was happening and almost not noticing the love confession in between. “Hurricane Irma won’t get anywhere close to NYC, Alex,” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair. “It’s just the Caribbean and Florida. We’ll be alright. None of us will die.”His mind still flashed scenes of them at the coastline, none breathing. Hercules kept talking to him, about the weather, and about how Lafayette kept muttering about how beautiful John was, and about how much he loved him and cared for him and — “Hold — hold the fuck up.”He said that out loud, didn’t he? Hercules was looking at him expectantly so he guessed he did. He buried his face into Hercules’ shirt and smiled against it. God, this was ridiculous. His heart was growing to be at a slower pace, and he could make out noise other than Hercules’ voice. “I love you,” Hercules muttered. His vision swam. But it didn’t matter, he had Hercules (and Lafayette and John) and they could— he could get through this. He didn’t feel there quite yet, but he still said, “I love you too.”Hercules helped him up (how long had he been in the floor?) and then took him out of the stall. “So, hurricane-related?” John asked, Lafayette at his side. They were holding hands, and Lafayette’s brows were furrowed with worry. “Mhm,” Hercules nodded. Alexander held his hand. The hurricane couldn’t hit them. They’d be alright. He took a deep breath and hugged John, to then have Lafayette and Hercules join in. The group hug was bone-crushing, and Alexander smiled. “Well, I’m glad you finally told me you like me,” he told him, smiling. “I don’t think…” he sucked in a breath, not knowing how to form words. He loved Hercules so much, but he had broken up with his last girlfriend not too long ago. He didn’t want to mess up his relationship with him, too. “I don’t think I’m ready to go steady with you, though.”“That’s alright,” Hercules said before kissing his hair. “Can I kiss you?” Alexander found himself clinging to him, his nails digging into Hercules’ shirt. He nodded vigorously like he’d never wanted anything more. And it was true, somewhat. Their noses bumped before Alexander moved his neck just right. He closed his eyes tight and let Hercules’ cologne, Hercules’ lips against his, Hercules’ hands on his lower back overwhelm him. He loved every part of Hercules, from how beefy he was to how kind he was. When they pulled away, Alexander’s heart rate wasn’t steady anymore. His love for Hercules overwhelmed him. “Can we post this on Snapchat?” Lafayette asked, an arm slung over John’s shoulder. “We got some really cute photos.”“Of course!” Hercules said at the same time Alexander went, “Maybe.” He turned to him and grinned. “Well?” Hercules asked. “Yeah, post it, I don’t care,” he muttered. He opened Lafayette’s Snapchat story to see a picture of them both kissing with the caption ‘congrats to these two lovebirds !!!’. Soon after, Eliza messaged Alexander with a bunch of heart emojis and just one word: ‘congratulations’. He smiled and pushed his phone back into his pocket. He threw an arm around Hercules’ shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Should we go back to the bar?” There was a man on the urinals looking at them, but he didn’t care right now. Two gay couples were being gay in his sight, and well, he’d have to just fucking deal with it.

Alexander fidgeted with his hands before saying, “Can any of you check if they’re still talking about hurricanes?”

“Sure,” Lafayette said. He went out of the bathroom and for a few seconds, they heard pacing. He came back later with a smile, “Nah, we’re good,” he said, a smile covering his factions.

“Thank you!” Alexander exclaimed, getting out of the bathroom and settling into one of the chairs. Lafayette took his jacket off, letting his shirt rumple up and the scars from bottom surgery are visible for a few seconds. He pushed the shirt down and smiled. “Well! Do you want another beer, Alex?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind,” he replied. He was still sweaty from his panic attack, and his top surgery scars itched a little, but what could he do? Lafayette handed him a pint of beer and he downed it gratefully. “Thank you all.”

Putting his best Southern accent on, Hercules went, “It’s no problem, darlin’.”

“You sound like Jefferson, Herc.”

John eyed Alexander with a raised eyebrow. “Have you ever had Jefferson call you darlin’ before?”

“No!”

Hercules laughed, and the fear in Alexander’s heart settled.

#hercham #mulliham #my fic #thnx milo #Anonymous

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5hfanfiction · 8 years ago

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if you hold me (i'll be your only)

Lauren Jauregui tries reconnecting with one of her best friends, Lucía Vives. Hooking up in the past took a huge toll on Lauren, and now she can’t seem to shake the feelings off even after not seeing each other for almost a year. Before trying anything serious, though, she wants to rebuild their friendship, but their hormones have other plans. After being fed up with the amount of unrequited feelings Lauren detects, she plans on showing Lucy that what she feels for her runs deeper than their sexual encounters. [non-au]

December 2015

Lauren’s like, a minute away from collapsing on the ground.

The gruesome and boring Jingle Ball tour came and went, and now Lauren is back at home with all the time in the world (in her terms, that means two weeks). She checks Instagram twice to see everyone getting hyped about the new year, pacing around her house as she does so.

Lauren lost contact with one of her best friends over the past 7-or-so months. Lucia Vives; the girl’s rock, the girl’s hookup for alcohol at 16, was now but a stranger among the masses. Hanging out with some of her UCLA friends had introduced the 19-year-old to a new crowd with new people, and since Lucy was not mutual friends with them, it inevitably led to the demise of Lauren and Lucy’s friendship – though not purposely. Lucy was also in the same situation, the the girl having her own friends as well.

The stone-cold truth is, Lauren misses her best friend. She misses their late night sleepovers as preteens, gossiping about boys. She misses the soft strands of Lucy’s hair tickling Lauren’s neck while half asleep and groggy (the girl smelled a bit like peaches and a whole lot like love, but Lauren would never tell her that flat out). Though, most of all, Lauren kind of misses pinning Lucy down onto the mattress, pressing hot kisses down her neck and towards her chest.

The last time they hooked up was when Lauren was around 17, almost 18. Lucy had come out to the black-haired girl almost a year before things stalled. Since then, the sexual tension was undeniable and inevitably one day Lauren decided she wouldn’t let the universe stop her from kissing Lucy. Or, maybe it was the alcohol talking. Either way, they fell into a routine of making out and touching over their clothing while Lauren was on breaks. Their situation was a recipe for disaster – and for unrequited feelings. It goes without saying that those feelings were developed, grown, and hatched right inside of Lauren herself.

She had a feeling Lucy wouldn’t return them, so Lauren never spoke of them anywhere besides her brain and her journal. The girl still writes about Lucy to this day, her heart racing if her mom even so mentions the Colombian girl quickly in a sentence. They surprisingly did not have a fallout – just drifted apart, which left them no time to be hormonal teenage girls letting out their frustration through sexual acts anymore. Lauren tries not to recall the sinfully inappropriate noises and expletives from their hookups when she needs to “get the job done”, so to speak, but sometimes it gets way too hard not to when she remembers how loudly Lucy would moan when she sucked on…

“Fuck.”

That’s Lauren, mumbling the word quietly to herself as she waits for a text back from the one person she always lets her thoughts drift to.

She made her decision to text Lucy a few nights ago, while drunk out of her mind. The girl was luckily smart enough to know not to do it at that exact moment, for she would end up embarrassing herself and Lucy would probably think she’s a true drunkard. Lauren settled on today – a tranquil, December day where she’s sober and ready to talk without a million typos and the slight probability of spilling her feelings.

The raven-haired girl’s phone suddenly chimes in her semi-shaky hands. Lauren quickly averts her eyes to the top of the screen just to have it say Camila. Or rather, Camila’s new phone 2 (Lauren isn’t very creative in that field). That’s disappointing, she mundanely thinks. Her finger presses on the screen and reads what pops up.

[Camila’s new phone 2] 6:35 PM getting sooo fucked tonight, you in?

Lauren blankly stares back down at her phone for about a minute. Seriously, what is this girl on?

[Lauren] 6:37 PM Tmi, Camila. Not into threesomes

[Camila’s new phone 2] 6:41 PM of course that’s what your mind goes to. I meant i’m gonna be trashed later, got some connections for good shit. thought you’d wanna join for a little new years fun yanno

Lauren rolls her eyes at this. Maybe two-months-ago-Lauren would agree, but in this moment, she decides to decline. It’s a scene she dragged Camila into and hopes she can eventually lead the brunette and herself out of it.

[Lauren] 6:44 PM I’m gonna have to say no. Besides, I might be with friends later anyway.

[Camila’s new phone 2] 6:45 PM is that group of friends including the girl you’re head over heels for?

[Lauren] 6:46 PM Go fuck yourself 🙄 I’m not in love

[Camila’s new phone 2] 6:49 PM yeah, and Miley pretended she wasn’t Hannah. but she was. and it was obvious. so I don’t need to hear your lies

Lauren doesn’t even question the smaller Cuban’s antics anymore.

Just as she reads that text, she gets the one she’s been waiting for. Her completely straight face transforms into a shit-eating grin at the notification.

Lauren quickly texts Camila that she has to go, and that they can hopefully catch up some time during break – no alcohol involved. The brunette responds with a picture of her saluting and she’s off to checking her text from Lucy.

[Lauren] 6:01 PM Hey, Luce. It’s Lauren. I’m not sure if you have this number saved because I’ve had to change it a bunch of times. But, I wanted to ask… would you be down to meet up with Keana, Britt and I later? We’d all love to catch up with you

[Lucy] 6:50 PM sorry for the semi-late response. it’s really good to hear from you lauren :) i’d love to. text me the time and place will ya

Lauren, at this point, stops her pacing and falls backwards onto the soft cushions of her living room couch. Eyes shut and jaw slack, she dramatically sighs a sigh that is the epitome of dreamy, and fist pumps to herself. She quickly tells herself she looks like a love-sick high school student on a shitty sitcom, and drops the act by planning her reply.

[Lauren] 6:55 PM My house, at 8. I’m going out on a limb to say you know how to get here

[Lucy] 6:57 PM lauren, i probably know the coordinates to your house at this point. why would i ever forget? i’m good for that time and really excited to see you

Lauren tries to ignore the fluttering she feels in her stomach at how Lucy only mentioned being excited to see her, and not her other two friends. She shakes the thought off, though, because she realizes how much of a reach it truly is.

[Lauren] 6:59 PM I’m excited to see you too :)❤️

After Lucy doesn’t reply, Lauren decides she should spruce up the house a bit and fix herself up. She managed to get her parents and siblings to leave her alone for a few hours; the bunch decided on dinner at a restaurant. They weren’t bothered by Lauren’s request to have the house to herself and bail the family outing. Besides, they know how much Lauren adores Lucy. The girl still has a few weeks home before going back to L.A., and her family will eventually plan something out for all of them.

She decides to put on a grey v-neck that Lauren makes sure is tucked neatly into a pair of stonewashed jeans. She doesn’t bother with any shoes because it’s her house, and she’ll rock fuzzy socks any day.

When Lauren comes back downstairs, she retrieves one of those cheap dusters from her kitchen cabinet and begins Operation: Make Your House Look Decent For Your Best Friend Slash Crush Slash Old Hookup

The Cuban grins as she thinks about updating Lucy on how crazy life has been for her in Fifth Harmony over the last year. She does a little twirl as she grips the duster and lightly dusts the living room end table while humming a tune that sounds a lot like Straightjacket by Quinn XCII. It’s going to be a good night.

One hour.

That’s how long it takes Lauren to dust – one hour. She hopes her parents will at least be appreciative for the hard effort she put in when they get back home.

She notices the time when the doorbell rings and, shit, she remembers she’s having company. The raven-haired girl was too busy singing around her house and actually having fun cleaning to have the thought cross her mind.

Lauren places the duster back where she found it in her kitchen, and slowly trudges to the door.

“I’m coming,” Lauren announces loudly, her voice taking on a higher pitch at the end.

The person behind the door just presses the doorbell that much harder and faster.

“Son of a fuck–”

The rest of her sentence dies in her throat as she opens the door. It’s Lucy, and she’s even prettier than she remembers. Not that she would ever not be pretty, but shit, Lauren feels as if she’s in a trance.

The girl dons a striped black-and-white t-shirt that hangs very low off of the shoulders. Her ripped black skinny jeans have more holes than she can count and Lucy’s hair is in a beautiful, almost intricate, french braid that rests on one of the said bare shoulders. The bright motion light of Lauren’s front porch illuminates the Colombian girl’s face even more, her face taking on a beautiful glow.

Lauren finally collects herself after gawking for a few moments. “Wow, Luce… you look amazing.”

Even under the light, Lauren misses the slight blush that rises over Lucy’s cheeks.

“Thank you, Lauren. You don’t look too bad yourself.” Both girls stand there giggling at the typical response. “Mind if I, uh… come in?”

“What kind of host am I? Of course.” As Lauren slides over to let Lucy through the doorway, a loud voice rings out from her front yard.

“We’re here for the booze.”

Both girls strain their necks to see who said it. It’s no surprise that Britt comes walking out of the seemingly dark shadows, like something from a movie. As she approaches the porch, her features are illuminated as well and her infamous septum piercing shines in the light.

“Keana’s in the car. We brought a lot of fun stuff, but we’re hoping you have what we’re still too young to buy ourselves,” Britt says, patting Lauren on the back as she walks through the door.

Lucy and Keana finally get in the house, and Lauren brings her record player from upstairs to put something chill on while they talk. Britt immediately raids the fridge for a Mike’s.

“If you’re looking to get drunk, that’s not going to get you there,” Lauren says, as she reaches her hand over Britt’s head to grab a water.

Britt shrugs before shutting the refrigerator and turning to face Lauren. “I’m not looking to be seriously crossfaded tonight, so this’ll do.”

Lauren does a double take for a moment. Crossfaded…

She immediately changes her face into a scowl. “Oh, no. We are not getting high in my house. I don’t want to get in trouble. Just because I’m hardly home does not mean my parents wouldn’t still kick my ass.”

The other girl laughs. “Lauren, chill. Honestly, I think you need to get high with us. Or if you’re not into that, Lucy brought cigars. I don’t know why you’re so adamant on not smoking.” Britt pauses for a moment, “also, why in the hell are you drinking fucking water?”

Lauren still glares at the girl across from her, crossing her arms before taking a sip from the bottle. “I’m trying to not drink as much, okay? Every time I do, I end up being out for the count by like, 10 PM. And if you wanna get high, do it in the backyard or something. I’m gonna go back over there,” Lauren flatly states and points her thumb over her shoulder towards the living room. She leaves Britt to her own thoughts.

Lauren herself doesn’t know why she hates smoking so much. It may be the smell, it may be the thought of inhaling smoke, it may be the risk factors that come alone with it. Either way, she isn’t doing it. That is final. Although she feels like a party-pooper and a SADD advocate, she’s stubborn and keeps her own word unless some divine intervention could tell her otherwise.

Lauren swiftly arrives back to the couches and plops down next to Lucy, striking up conversation. It seems so weird to her that they’re quickly falling back into what used to be – though, she wonders if the sexual part of what used to be would too. The Cuban reminds herself she’s being a dumbass and forgets she even thought about that.

Lauren and Lucy are talking about some cute moments from their childhood when Keana speaks up.

“We’re going outside to smoke. Lauren, uh, you coming?”

It is her get-together, so she has to accompany the three other girls. Lauren decides she’ll just stand back and watch.

Lucy looks over at her with what seems to be slight concern in her eyes. “I’ll stay inside with you if you want. I don’t want you to be alone and I know you don’t like to smoke, so…”

But Lauren puffs her chest. Really, what is she so damn concerned about? She counters with herself before standing up abruptly and leading herself outside.

The rest of the girls take that as a yes, and follow her through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen. Lauren’s backyard is scattered with many lawn chairs and the girls retrieve them from various spots before huddling around the patio table.

They retrieve what they have from their pockets and place them out on the table. Lauren supposes this is the divine intervention God apparently wants her to have.

Lucy turns to face Lauren in her chair, and smiles softly at her. She gives her a smile back and nods at the stuff on the table before Lucy starts grabbing what she needs.

The girls silently decide on weed and get to work. Lauren decides, again, that she is a dumbass.

Keana, Lucy, and Britt roll the blunt themselves and take turns passing it around. Like a chain reaction, each take a drag out of it and blow it out into the semi-chilly Miami air. It smells disgusting, but Lauren complies.

The girls giggle to themselves and make useless conversation. Lauren, however, sits like a vegetable. The only person paying attention to her is Lucy, and she seems pretty out of it after a few long hits.

So, to make herself interested, Lauren pays attention to Lucy’s lazy stature. The Colombian girl doesn’t notice her staring until a few minutes after Lauren has a full fixation on her lips.

Lucy’s voice is raspy, tinged with seductiveness, when she finally speaks. “Don’t you want to try, Lauren?”

She inches closer, joint held skillfully between her pointer and middle finger. Lucy keeps her eyes locked on Lauren as she slowly moves it towards her lips, pulling the smoke in, before pressing her lips to Lauren’s mouth which was agape in shock.

The raven-haired girl slowly breathed in what Lucy begins to blow into her mouth down her throat, their eyes scarily boring into each other. Neither of them blink.

What happens next is basically a sum-up of Lauren’s life. She immediately coughs up a storm, right in Lucy’s face, and essentially ruins the mood.

The whole rest of the group begins to laugh at Lauren with her red face and her furrowed eyebrows. But Lucy is still staring, farther away now, with a look of endearment in her brown eyes.

Lauren is sort of frozen everywhere, but she can still feel Lucy’s parted lips on hers – the feeling now but a dull tingle. The thing she feels the most, though, is the heat bubbling in the pit of her stomach that has not gone away, and an even worse feeling of butterflies fluttering softly in her stomach. For the third time that night, Lauren recalls that she is indeed a dumbass.

hey!!! i submitted on here before but i never really updated the fic because i wasn’t interested in the storyline anymore… but i’m really planning on getting into this laucy one. i hope you enjoyed reading it, you can also find it on wattpad HERE

#UPDATE #series #non AU #slash #based on song #angst drama #romance fluff #submission #if you hold me ill be your only

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