#pouring my heart out to anon but I didn’t pour the whiskey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely.

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college.

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like.

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name.

Ravish

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was.

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen?

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard.

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him.

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps.

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.”

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most.

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later.

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug.

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore.

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself.

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet.

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks.

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop.

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!”

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.”

“Patience everyone.”

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .”

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor.

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . .

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out.

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?”

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles.

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.”

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible.

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again.

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.”

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet.

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got.

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it.

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal.

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.”

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.”

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good.

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.”

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone.

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm.

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?”

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias.

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?”

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.”

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud.

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.”

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter!

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come.

He wants them to come at the same time.

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up.

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera.

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time.

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet.

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes.

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor.

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release.

Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop.

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline.

Good girl.

Joel is a weak weak man.

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him.

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling.

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets.

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious.

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little.

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her.

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat.

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable.

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly.

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?”

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look.

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice?

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?”

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively.

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.”

You always call me that. Why? . . . Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean.

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.” she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.”

Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks.

“Can—Can you hear me?”

Her eyes sparkle.

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.”

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?”

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?”

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.”

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.”

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.”

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.”

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?”

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement.

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?”

“Would you laugh if I said no?”

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily. “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?”

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.”

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.

“Anything that you like, sir?”

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—”

“The heart-shaped ones?”

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.”

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?”

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.”

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.”

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples.

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch.

“Are you touching yourself, sir?”

“Yea.”

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.”

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted.

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?”

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it.

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.”

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?”

Fuck.

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword.

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough.

“Harder.”

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release.

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders.

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it.

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.”

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?”

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.”

“P-Pillow?”

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.”

“Shit, say that again.”

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—”

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat.

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.”

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?”

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight.

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.”

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him.

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips.

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.”

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking.

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.”

You hate visiting home.

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of.

JMiller.

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again.

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online.

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood.

Of course he did, he was perfect.

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late.

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you.

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line.

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.”

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.”

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.”

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.”

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull.

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind.

“You know what—”

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice.

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you.

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?”

You’re not but you kinda wish you were.

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.”

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after.

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.”

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor.

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale.

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask.

“You don’t have—”

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?”

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.”

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment.

Your rake your brain for answers.

Why?

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle?

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.”

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.”

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow.

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.”

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.”

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

It is him.

JMiller—J stands for Joel.

Fuck.

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .”

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.”

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.”

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.”

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.”

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that.

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel.

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Technically you bought it.”

“Right. . .”

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.”

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction.

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself.

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice.

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.”

“Ask away.”

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss.

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward.

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods.

“Is that okay?”

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

His grin is infectious.

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.”

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home.

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had.

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company.

You found it incredibly charming.

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too.

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall.

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.”

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.”

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall.

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs.

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .”

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.”

You gasp, “P-Please.”

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze.

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled.

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock.

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—”

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face.

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!”

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper.

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—”

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing?

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.”

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.”

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs.

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.”

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean.

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing.

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild.

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth.

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.”

“You really had low expectations, huh?”

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.”

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.”

You smile, heart fluttering.

“Me too.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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ikinremu · 3 months ago

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Would love some flirty fluff between Tommy Shelby and an innocent maid that he loves making flustered 🤭🥰

Hi anon! Thank you for requesting, sorry this is only a little drabble, but I hope you enjoy! <3

Mr Shelby

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Thomas Shelby wasn’t easily amused. However, it was an entirely different scenario when it came to you. It was simple, truly, you were just so easy to fluster - and it was a sight he’d never grow sick of.

Each time was just as perfect as the last. It took little to no time for you to become irreversibly flustered; stumbling a little over your words, feeling warm under your skin. And, God, was he intoxicated by it. You just looked so sweet in your uniform, it was completely fucking unbearable. Especially once you became embarrassed by his words, and his words alone. And he knew it’d be successful each time, he could bring you to the exact point he wanted you at - knowing you enjoyed it just as much as he did.

Most days, you found yourself lingering the longest inside his office, especially when he was present.

Typically, Tommy wouldn’t permit a maid to clean his office while he was working, but he had no intention of denying his soft spot for you.

Besides, it was entertaining enough to watch you make your way across the room, crouching beneath coffee tables with your duster and standing on the nearest chairs in order to reach the furthest corners of the ceiling.

His jaw ticked a little, observing the effort you poured into dusting the bookshelves across from his desk. Despite the extent he’d been trying, Tommy just couldn’t focus on the work before him. His gaze was glued to you; every inch of you.

He took a small sip from his whiskey glass, still attempting to focus on the papers before him and failing miserably. He knew of far more enjoyable pastime, and once that was an option it felt like nothing else was.

Oblivious to what played through Tommy’s mind, you continued on, peering up to the highest shelf, struggling a little to creep your tools into every nook and cranny of the wood.

Although it suddenly seemed you wouldn’t need to struggle much longer.

“You missed a spot, love.” Tommy’s voice brushed over the skin of your neck, his tone both low and perfectly steady. He was unfaltering as ever, demeanour never once shattering, though yours was entirely different. You couldn’t help the sensation of breath catching in your throat as you adjusted to the abrupt feeling of his hands ghosting over your hips.

You stumbled for words for a short moment, pressing the feathered, frayed tip of the duster into the furthest stretch, “Shouldn’t you be working, Mr Shelby?”

He let out a breathy chuckle, palms still floating by your hips as you stepped down once more, “Love, I find you far more interesting than my work.”

You felt heat swarm your cheeks, overcome by the compliment - and undeniably so - especially coming from your boss, who was labelled as a stern man by most.

“I.. find that difficult to believe, Mr Shelby.”

His lips cracked a pleased smile as you turned around, back to stability on the flat of your feet, a smirk painting his mouth.

“I mean it.” Tommy kept on, “You’re much prettier than those papers, eh?”

You felt your heart thump faster beneath the wall of your chest, driven by the heat of his eyes studying your face, not leaving for a single moment. He possessed a confidence you couldn’t grasp, unable to maintain the eye contact he was providing.

“Thank you.” Was all you could muster, “But I’ll get in bother if I distract you from your work.”

“By me?” He chuckles once again, “You’re enough of a distraction already, darlin.”

You peered back at him, his hands tucked deeply within his trouser pockets.

“I am? I’m sorry, Mr Shelby, I didn’t intend to..” You began, immediately apologetic despite his unbothered - more so amused - nature.

“Oh, don’t apologise sweetheart.” He assured, placing a warm, rather callous hand to your cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over your flushed skin purposefully slowly, eyes flickering over your features, “It’s fucking impossible to keep my eyes off you when you look so pretty in that uniform, eh sweetheart?”

You glanced down at the outfit you adorned, hardly seeing the appeal he clearly was, stomach fluttering as his callous thumb swept across your cheek once more.

“..Thank you, Mr Shelby.” You slipped a shallow breath, basking in the feeling of his touch against your skin - subtle as it was, it was more than enough to make your stomach flutter.

“C’mon we’re past that now.” He encouraged, his hand vanishing from your skin - leaving you quietly disappointed, “Don’t need to be so shy around me, love, just call me Tommy.”

“Of course, Tommy.” You gave a simple nod, beyond happy to comply with his inviting request.

He chuckled, snaking his now vacant hand back within his - blatantly expensive - trouser pockets, “Better, I’m sure you’ll be saying it again soon, eh?”

Your eyes widened slightly, unsure if you’d interpreted him correctly.

Tommy examined the bashful, yet puzzled, expression painting your face, endlessly entertained. He raised both brows, supporting faux confusion himself.

“When you clean my office, of course.” He spoke, as if to settle the very conflict he himself had planted, and purposefully so.

The office. The very office you really ought to return your focus to, and certainly not toward your own personal interests.

Once again, you returned to an activity you found yourself committed to rather often; dismissing your unprofessional thoughts. You were fully aware, with no shadow of a doubt, it’d reoccur if the pair of you kept this up - not that you wished for it to stop, not at all.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! I’m working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if you’ve sent one in <3

#drabbles #oneshot #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby oneshot #fluffy #smutty

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austinsmutler · 1 year ago

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EEK i’m so happy you answered the request so i’m sending another one🤯🤯))

Austin! Elvis going to a press conference and seeing reader who is a famous singer. they grew up in tupelo but instead of going to memphis, reader was big in New York. After finally meeting again, they become as good of friends as they used to be. elvis begins harboring feelings for reader again?

during this press conference, reader gets a lot of “who’s your s/o” or “are you married yet” questions. Elvis can see the visible discomfort and sadness from the reader so he decides to step in. He asks for different questions and holds her hand under the table in a way to comfort them? at the end of the conference, elvis kisses reader and says some cheesy stuff like “for the next conference, you can answer yes to all the boyfriend stuff”

thank you so much EEK

Anon, did we just become best friends? I think we did. Thanks so much for this ask, and keep 'em coming! This one was such a cute idea, and so fun to write.

Thinking About You - Austin!Elvis x Reader - 3,900 Words

What you’ll like: Protective Elvis, 70s Austin!Elvis, BDE Elvis, Elvis stands up for reader, second-chance romance between old friends

Warnings: Period-typical misogyny (in SPADES)

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want!)

The press conference wasn't until tomorrow, but the hotel was already packed. Just take care of business. That was the only thing Elvis could think through all the noise, the shouting reporters and camera flashes.

But he had an evening to prepare for the worst of it.

He’d been first to arrive at the hotel, But he was only one of the big names up for an interview. The other artist and the conference moderator were arriving tomorrow. He didn’t even know who they were- hadn’t looked at the conference program or really anything to do with the press event. He just knew it was about music, that the Colonel was trying to set up a collaboration between Elvis and this other artist. The Colonel said it was vital to make an appearance. So here he was, appearing.

Answering a few questions (“I’m so excited for the conference, we have a real talented musician coming out tonight and I can’t wait to meet ‘em”) he made a few excuses (“My manager’s calling me, sorry honey”) and went up to his hotel room. A penthouse suite that was big enough to feel empty.

Graceland might have been a mansion, but Elvis liked to keep it full of family, friends, and music. This was the worst part of being on the road, Elvis thought as he pulled back the curtain to look at the New York skyline. The city was beautiful, but compact; crowded and cold. The Memphis Mafia were crashing on another floor entirely, exhausted from the day of traveling. This floor was reserved for VIPs only.

Elvis wandered around his suite: a small kitchen area with fully-stocked cupboards catered to his tastes, a large bed with thick covers of purple satin and velvet, gold trimmings on the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked half the city, the black roads dotted with yellow cabs and the gray sky above.

“Although it's always crowded,” Elvis sang to himself softly, smiling down at the streets below, “You still can find some room… For broken-hearted lovers to cry there in their gloom…”

He shrugged the emptiness away, deciding to stroll along the floor instead of hanging there like a ghost in the gloom. The VIP lounge had a fully-staffed bar and a private kitchen, all fully-stocked with anything he could hope to order.

“Whiskey and coke.” Elvis sat at the empty bar, surveying the green velvet booths. From this angle, there was a view of the brownish-grey Hudson river, just beginning to glow orange as the sun set over New York City.

The bartender poured the drink just as the door to the lounge opened. Elvis turned in time to see a woman taking reluctant strides into the empty room, hair perfectly-coiffed, eyes darting around the room, only to freeze on him. His fingers tightened on his glass as he recognised who it was.

You.

** ** ** **

“Elvis Presley,” A smile broke over your face, “It’s been a while, huh?”

Your heart hammered in your chest as Elvis got up, drink forgotten on the bar, and gave you a hug. Almost a decade since you last saw each other, but his arms hadn’t changed a bit.

“Wow, look at you.” Elvis pulled back, looking you up and down. It was hard not to feel self-conscious as he drank you in. You wore your best New-York-casual outfit. It glittered like the city lights with every movement, the egg-yolk orange sunset haloing you and Elvis as everything else seemed to melt away.

You were glad you’d come dressed to impress- granted, that was due to the vultures outside with their cameras. Press conferences weren’t your thing, but your manager had insisted on coming here.

Then you’d seen Elvis’ name on the program, heard about a possible collaboration, and your mind was set.

“You’re not so bad yourself, E.P.” You grinned, using the old nickname everyone had called him in high school. Elvis returned the smile with his now-famous lip curl. He wore a red button-up that rose high on his neck, black flares and shiny boots that added to his already-considerable height.

“C’mon, let me get you a drink.” Elvis ushered you to the bar with one hand on your upper back. A respectful touch, but one that sent electricity sparking up your whole body. You fought it away with a shiver, which Elvis caught. “Are you cold? I can ask them to check the thermostat.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” You grinned. Protective as ever, after all this time. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to since moving to Memphis, but I think there’s not a soul in America who doesn’t know that.”

He laughed, “You could say I’m a modest success.”

“You must be proud.” You smiled, ordering a gin and tonic. Anything to loosen up under the way he looked at you, blue eyes focused on nothing else.

Elvis shrugged. “I always wanted to make music, and I’ve been doing just that. Rock ‘n Roll, Gospel, Rockabilly, Country. I’ve done a little of everything at this point.” He sipped his drink. “What about you? I heard you were doing well, but I haven’t heard from you since…”

“High school?” You could still remember the last time you’d seen each other: a tearful goodbye as Elvis went on tour and you went to college, certain never to meet again. “Well, you know I was supposed to go to college here, but I actually dropped out. Realized medicine wasn’t for me.”

You smiled at the memories of that simpler time, when you had no idea how the music industry worked. “My first album didn’t do too bad, if I do say so myself. I’m not exactly touring all 50 states, but I do alright for a lil girl from Tupelo.”

“I’ve seen you on magazines. I almost didn’t recognize you at all the first time, when you did that cover for Modern Woman…” He trailed off, slack-jawed.

“Well,” You chuckled, “They slap a lot of makeup on me. I use my pseudonym, and I never talk about my personal life. As far as anyone knows, I was born in New York at the ripe old age of eighteen.”

“I have your album at home.” Elvis murmured, looking down at his drink. Were his cheeks lightly pink, or was that the light? You couldn’t tell for sure. “S’nice. Your voice- I’ve never forgotten it. Always thought that record sounded just like you.”

“Wonder why.” You laughed. “It’s so good to see you again, E.P.”

“You have no idea.” The smile on his face was happy, but not entirely. Sadness echoed in his eyes for a minute- if you didn’t know him so well, you might not have caught it. You pursed your lips but didn’t ask.

Even after years apart, conversation flowed between the two of you all-too-easily. Eventually the two of you moved from the bar into a booth, still sitting side-by-side instead of across from each other. It was as if there were an unspoken agreement between the two of you: no more distance. A decade was more than enough.

“You never told me you wanted to be a singer.” Elvis coked an eyebrow at you. “Any other secrets I should know about?”

You shook your head with a grin. “I didn’t know myself, to be honest. You taught me how to play guitar, and when I moved to New York I had nobody to talk to, so I spent all my time in my dorm, playing until my fingers bled.”

You showed him your calloused fingers, the sure mark of a musician. They matched his perfectly.

“Anyway, one night my roommate pretty much forced me to go out with them to this bar, and they were having an open mic. I didn’t want to do it at first, but my roommate was like ‘You’ll keep me up all night playing, but when you have a real audience you’re suddenly shy? Come on!’ So she shoved me up and I played some Big Mama Thornton. Started with Up Above My Head, then Ball n Chain, Hound Dog... They didn’t let me off the stage till dawn.”

You smiled at the memory. The crowd, the encouragement when all you’d felt before was fear, everything about being a musician pulled you in. Almost everything.

“The rest is history. Thanks for those guitar lessons, by the way.” You nudged him with your elbow. “You could really make a career out of this music thing.”

He laughed. By now the sun had long since set, and Elvis’ face was perfectly framed in the purple neon lights of the lounge, making him look dark and mysterious. Masculine and sexy. You squeezed your thighs together under the table, trying to fight the more inconvenient memories away. That would hurt too much.

The last time Elvis had kissed you was the day he left for tour. He left first, leaving your hometown empty. Letters had hurt too much to write, phone calls became too strained and distant, so you’d agreed to stop. But there were no hard feelings- you’d always understood each other, and that hadn’t changed, even though everything else had.

But here you were. Older, established artists, with separate lives that parallelled perfectly. When Elvis’ hand brushed over yours, you didn’t pull away. He shot you a shy smile- the same he’d had when he asked you out to prom all those years ago. Young, naive, vulnerable. Some things never change.

You stayed in the VIP lounge, talking about life. The music you both enjoyed now, experiences with other celebrities (you’d made an infamous movie with Marlon Brando, leading to a lot of unfounded rumors). Eventually you got to ask how things were back in Memphis. You hadn’t visited in years.

“Well, we’ll have to change that.” Elvis gave you that curled-lip smile, the one that melted every heart in America- but it had touched yours first. A spark of pride flamed in your chest, but you squashed it down.

“Is that an invitation?”

There was his hand again, fingers warm on yours.

“You come to Graceland whenever you feel like it. Just rock up, I don’t mind.” Elvis chuckled. “When they ask, tell security at the gate your name is Blue Suede Shoes. They’ll know you’re alright.”

Your heart fluttered. “Elvis Presley, you can’t just go giving anyone and everyone your secret passwords.”

“You aren’t just anyone.”

You did your best to ignore the gleam in his eye. You’d probably just imagined it anyway. So much had changed- too much- and yet he was still the same man you’d loved all those years ago.

Loved. Suddenly none of those feelings felt past-tense.

“I should go to bed.” You pulled away, ignoring the flash of hurt in his eyes. “You should too, conference starts early tomorrow.”

“I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Elvis offered a weak smile. “Can I walk you to your door?”

You stood on shaky legs- how many gin and tonics had you ordered?

“If you like.”

He frowned at your cool tone, but nodded. When you stumbled in your heels, he watched as you kicked them off without ceremony, padding along the luxurious, carpeted corridor in bare feet.

“Remember when we’d drive down to the creek, in summer?” He spoke softly, and your pace slowed. “You wore those shorts your Momma hated.”

“You loved ‘em.”

“Wonder what she’d say to those shoes.”

You shared a chuckle- while Elvis’ family maintained traditional Southern values, they also had a rebelliousness your family didn’t understand. Your mother went to special pains to ensure you kept your shoulders covered at all times, never touched makeup or booze, never wore a skirt north of your knees.

The hotel room door loomed over the two of you, ornate and inviting.

“Well, goodnight.” You turned to go, but Elvis’ fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you close. You looked up at his eyes, clear blue and inches from yours. His breath fanned hot across your face. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, tucking your head beneath his chin.

“It’s been good to catch up, darlin’.”

He was still standing there, easygoing smile on his lips, when you locked the hotel door behind you.

** ** ** **

Sleep didn’t come for you that night, and by the time sunlight streamed in through the ornate silk curtains you were kicking yourself for letting Elvis back into your head. The press were ruthless, ready to take any crumb of what you could give them and spin it into a national headline. You needed to choose your words carefully, to be ahead of whatever questions they could ask, but you weren’t.

You put on a white suit with sharp shoulders and golden embroidery down the sleeves. It made you feel like a queen, but it didn’t take away any of the grogginess. You placed dark aviator glasses over your eyes and headed out with a sigh.

“Excuse me?” You manager, Joey, ripped them from your face the minute he saw you. “We want them to see your face, sweetheart.”

They were about to announce names in the next room, the moderator taking initial questions from reporters. Your heart thumped so loud it drowned out every other noise.

“The cameras flash really bright in there. I’ll look worse if I’m constantly blinking the lights out of my eyes.”

“Why do you think people buy your music?” Joey said with an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got a unique sound, sure…”

He gripped your chin and you fought the urge to pull away. “But your face? There’s a reason we call that the moneymaker.”

“Is there a problem here?” Suddenly a large presence was behind you, and Joey released your chin so he could take two steps back. When you turned, Elvis was glowering at the other man.

“No problem!” You squeaked. The situation with your manager was… standard, from what you could tell. Other female singers went through it all the time. “Joey was just giving me a… pep talk, before we get started.”

Elvis quirked an eyebrow, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “You’ll do great. You’re the queen of New York blues.”

Those two sentences filled you with pride, and your heart slowed, just a little. Elvis studied your face like he was trying to read your mind, and it was all you could do not to blush under those blue eyes.

Then someone called his name, and he disappeared through the curtains to greet the crowd. There was only one rule at the press conference: each performer would have the spotlight, on their own, for ten minutes. Elvis’ manager swung it so he was on stage all by himself for the first ten minutes- even if you wanted to steal the spotlight, it would be impossible. Smart.

His solo time was over in a flash though. Your name was called and Joey all-but pushed you out in front of the sharks.

The flashes instantly blinded you, and you almost stumbled on your way to the table, but you sat down without a hitch. Step one, check.

“Howdy.” You smiled into the microphone, prompting another roar from the crowd. Then the questions began.

“When are we going to see another album from the queen of New York Blues?”

“Keep an ear out. My new single will be out next week, and an album not long after.”

“Your last album had a whole lot of love songs, can you tell us what - or who - your inspiration was?”

The question would have made you stutter, but with a glance to the moderator, you knew you were on your own.

Then a warm hand found yours under the table. You could feel the cool metal of his signet rings, and it relaxed you. Elvis.

“Inspiration is a funny thing for any artist.” You managed to keep your voice steady. Almost friendly. “Blues comes from the South: work songs, field songs, church music, folk and pop all coming together. It’s full of pain and love. It just so happens that when I write a song, I draw more from love.”

Your fingers dug into your knees under the table as you realized your mistake. Too specific. It gives them too much of an in.

“So is it safe to say you’re in love?”

“With my music.” You said with a firm smile. “Every Friday I put on my red shoes and dance the blues, gentlemen.”

A chuckle spread through the crowd, but one reporter wasn’t ready to drop it. “Are you currently seeing any men?”

“Yes, a whole lot of them. Right in front of me.” Another laugh from the crowd, Elvis’ hand gave you a reassuring squeeze under the table before withdrawing. When you chanced a glance from the corner of your eye, he was smirking.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why, are you interested?” Your chuckle was a little high-pitched, forced. You could keep your cool well enough, but this was the part of the job you hated: the scrutiny of everything personal. It wasn’t enough to put your soul into your art, people wanted a piece of everything else too.

“Just interested in the truth.” The reporter smiled, but it was more of a sneer. “Who are you seeing?”

“Nobody.” Eloquent answers hadn’t worked, maybe short ones would.

“Dating around?”

“No.” You shifted in your seat.

“What do you have to say to the rumors about your secret marriage?”

You rolled your eyes. “I starred in one movie with Marlon Brando. As a background character. We never even spoke.”

“Is that a hint of bitterness there?” A laugh- at your expense- broke through the crowd. You forced a smile.

“Well-”

“Could we get some questions about her music, please?” Elvis leaned forward with a pointed gleam in his eyes. “C’mon, this is the queen of New York Blues here, fellas.”

He glared at the moderator, who checked his watch. “Actually, it’s time to open up the floor to questions for both artists. Who would like to begin?”

The next few hours went by in a blaze of questions- mostly for Elvis, but a few about your upcoming album and collaborations. If any reporters asked personal questions, you deflected them- or Elvis glared at the reporter until they decided to change tactic.

By the time the event was finally over, you just wanted to go back up to your hotel room and collapse in bed. Maybe cry. Definitely cry. Something about giving away so much of yourself at once felt like being ripped to shreds, even if it was your job to feed the frenzy.

“What were you thinking?” Joey said as he walked you to the elevator. He put on an insulting falsetto, “‘Oh, I’m not seeing nobody’, ‘No, I don’t date’- what was that? We need the fans to think you’re available, not a nun.”

“Yes sir.” Irritation knit your eyebrows together, and Joey pointed at your face.

“And that. What have I told you about smiling? People want to see you as their happy girlfriend, not their miserable old crone of a wife.”

“I’ll get it right next time, Joey.” Your smile was all teeth. “They seemed excited about my next album.”

“Humph.” He grunted as you reached the elevator, you stepping inside while he hung in the doorway. “I’m going to be taking follow-up questions. I’ll try to sow some actual intrigue around your personal life, see what I can do to salvage this.”

He took your aviators out of his pocket and tossed them at your feet. “You forgot these.”

A growl interrupted the moment before you could think of a reply.

“You gonna get in that thing or what?” A low voice drawled from behind Joey, who turned to see Elvis glowering at him for the second time that day.

“Not at all, Mr Presley. Fantastic job today, by the way.”

“Hmm.” Elvis dismissed the man with a wave of his hand that left no room for discussion.

Once the elevator doors closed, he knelt to pick up your sunglasses. “You drop these?”

“Um. Yeah.” You blinked back tears, pasting on a smile. “Thanks, E.P.”

People want to see their happy girlfriend, not a miserable crone.

Joey was a good manager. He could book you in anywhere- all the bars and clubs and even a few theatres, which was almost unheard of for a Blues artist, much less a female one. But the price you paid for that - aside from 40% of your royalties - was being ground into the dirt after every performance, musical or otherwise. You knew he enjoyed it, got a thrill out of tearing his performers down after seeing them built up. But there was nobody better in the business.

“You could do better than him.” Elvis said as you rode the elevator to the penthouse.

“Who, Joey?”

“I know it’s not my place, but you’d really be better off with a player like Brando.”

“Me and Joey?” You laughed. “We’re not a couple. He’s my manager- just my manager. I wasn’t lying about being single.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, clamping a hand over your face. “But I can’t believe they asked about Brando. When I heard that rumor, I never thought they’d actually say it to my face.”

“Unprepared paps.” Elvis mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “Always ask stupid questions.”

“I hate them.” You spoke without thinking. It felt good. “Every time they ask me anything, it always goes the same way. Who am I dating? What does my non-existent boyfriend think of the album? When am I getting married? If I wanted to answer those questions I’d call my Momma."

Elvis smiled at his shoes, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. The elevator pinged and the doors opened on your floor. You both got out, but didn’t make a move. His room was on the right, yours on the left.

"It’s not like anyone’s interested, anyway.” You'd meant it as a joke, a parting word, but Elvis stopped you before you could turn around.

Before you could open your mouth, his lips were on yours, hands cupping your face gently. Like you were something precious. He was the only man who’d ever touched you so reverently, like he was lucky to be so close to you.

The kiss was soft, but hungry. Before you knew it, Elvis had you backed against the wall, his hands on your hips as he devoured your lips until you had to break apart to breathe.

“Consider me interested.” Elvis breathed, thumb stroking over the small of your back.

“E-” His name turned into a gasp as Elvis’ lips found your neck, finding the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder, as easily as he had when you were teens in the back of his truck. He remembers everything, doesn’t he?

“Next time they ask,” Elvis kissed just below your ear, “You can answer yes to all those questions."

He pulled back to look in your eyes.

“Please.” He said, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question.

You nodded, leaning up for another kiss. “I forgot what it’s like.”

He looked at you curiously.

“You. Being close to you. E.P, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I know it’s only been a day, but you still make me feel… safe.”

His arms tightened around you. “I should’ve called you more, on that first tour. I was an idiot, darlin’. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Kiss me again. I’ll consider it.”

#elvis x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis imagine #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #protective elvis #protective austin!elvis #70s elvis #fluff

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cocotaetae13 · 2 years ago

Text

A Deal's A Deal: Yoongi(M)

Warnings: Demon behavior. Smut. Creampie. Baseless allegations to further the plot. mutual masturbation, questionable consent practices, vomiting, heavy(?) drinking, drink spiking

Word Count: A little over 5k

Summary: Yoongi has some questions you need to answer.

A/N: I'm dedicating this one to Dark-Heart Anon since Yoongi is their bias (omfg the PRESSURE I put on myself). I had a specific idea for this encounter and I'm not sure I pulled it off..additionally, I apologize for the super long wait! I've already started working on the next one so hopefully the time in between won't be as long.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read my story, I appreciate all of your hearts/likes, reblogs, and follows. I hope you enjoy :)

You groan, rolling to your side while fighting the very last heave your stomach is trying to force out. You lose and spill the last bit of your stomach contents on the floor below you. Remnants of your energy are now fleeting and thus your powers with it. You wished there was evidence of you vomiting all over Taehyung’s and Yoongi’s floors as revenge. Unfortunately for you the emotions you convert to energy and power are on a different plane of existence and only visible to a demon’s eye.

“I’m going to make sure you all die slow, painful, torturous deaths...” you mutter, struggling to get up.

You’re actually the one who is probably going to die right now. At least that’s how you feel. Your insides burn from vomiting. That has never happened before. The idea of a demon becoming too full is ridiculous. Your body aches and your muscles are sore. When you sit up you let your head drop to rest against the wall and take deep breaths to gather your thoughts and think of your next move. Taking stock of your body your skin still burns from those markings popping up again. The weight at your neck stays untouched and a constant reminder of your imprisonment. You grit your teeth against a painful pang of hunger rolling through your belly, irritation following shortly after considering how well you’d fed from Taehyung. If you couldn’t go home and you were developing a limit to the amount you could consume, what would eventually happen to you? Finally when you feel like you’ve caught your breath you glare at Yoongi who is still looking back at you impassively.

With a start you realize Yoongi has been sitting behind this table the entire time, looking at you and waiting. You can’t tell what he’s thinking with the lack of expression he has on his face. It’s neither here nor there, you have bigger problems anyway. For example, thinking back on what happened to you at Taehyung’s, Jimin’s, and Hoseok’s. You need a better game plan. You put your back to the wall for security.

Yoongi takes a drink and his lips smack softly after swallowing his mouthful of whiskey. “I see.” He says finally as he glances into the glass before setting it down, his cat-like eyes peering at you.

He looks incredibly comfortable in sweats, a t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie that’s hanging open. His hands are clasped together on top of the table and he looks every bit like a CEO on his day off. He meets your gaze again and you growl at him from the safety of your corner. You didn’t need him thinking he had any sort of opening to get closer to you right now. He briefly cocks an eyebrow at that before busying himself with pouring another drink. He reaches for the bottle again when he finishes his second refill. He only holds on to this one before giving you a steady look.

“Come here.” he says finally, index finger pointing down across the table in front of him at the table where you’re supposed to take a seat.

“I’d rather not.” You snap, bracing yourself for the pull with your hands against the wall. He wasn’t going to win this time.

“Fine. Sit your ass on the floor across from me right now.” A second later, you’re yanked by the neck towards Yoongi and you yelp in surprise. There’s nothing on the floor like a rug or carpet for you to grab onto so you give up and let yourself be taken to him.The indignity of being dragged along the floor like a petulant human child in a grocery store isn’t lost on you. You shriek when you reach the table and are then hoisted into the upright position. He pours you a glass of whiskey before holding his glass up to you to toast.

“Let’s call a truce.” He gives his glass a little shake invitingly. “Just while you’re here. I’m looking for information.”

“Get fucked, Yoongi.” You cross your arms and scoff.

Yoongi shrugs and takes a sip from his glass before staring up at the ceiling in thought for a moment. Once it has passed he looks at you with a cheeky grin. “It’s been a long while so if you’re offering…”

“I’m offering to rip your head from your shoulders and bathe in your blood.” You say darkly. Yoongi only chuckles in response. You narrow your eyes as your breathing evens out and your skin finally stops burning. He takes a drink from his glass and sighs. “You aren’t afraid of me...” You search his eyes for a second. “What are you all doing to me?” You demand. Suddenly you’re just fatigued. You’ve done too much.

“Do you think you have the right to ask that sort of question after everything you’ve done?” Yoongi says. “We’re defending ourselves.”

“This is not defense,” You take a deep breath as the last of your aches stop. Now there's just a creeping, growing hunger in your belly. “If it weren’t for the fact that your…attacks have all been on me I’d commend you for creativity and cruelty. But I’m petty so I won’t.” Despite yourself you grab the glass of whiskey and tip it back, swallowing it like a shot. You taste all of the flavors without the burn. When you set your glass down Yoongi is there to refill it without hesitation. When you lift the glass to your lips you pause, eyes widening in realization. “A witch.”

Yoongi’s lips press into a line and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow. “A witch?”

“You went to a witch to do this to me. To get this spell.” You say and set your glass down.

“No, we didn't go to a witch.” Yoongi waves you off.

“I already know I’m bound to you all through it. What else does it do?” Memories flash through your head of the number of times you’ve been yanked here and there over the past few days.

Yoongi’s tongue travels across his teeth in thought before he takes another sip from his glass. “What are the actual terms of your agreement with Jungkook?”

Fine. You’ll play his game. “Simple. Jungkook’s wish was to keep the seven of you together in hopes of reaching stardom. He never specified the specific height of stardom he wanted you all to reach, so here I am. You stay together. I get his soul when he dies.” You take a drink and glare at him. “Your turn.”

“So your job is to keep your end of the deal no matter the cost?” He ponders. “So that means…”

When he gives you a look you lift an elegant eyebrow at him as you drain your glass. It’s helping make your stomach feel a little full. All you need to do is gather enough strength to get out of here. That means you’re going to have to entertain Yoongi without upsetting him into coming at you. There’s only a small problem with your relationship with Yoongi: a goddamn workaholic who willingly sacrificed his sleep and sanity for his chance to make his music known to the world. Yoongi was a tough egg to crack for you, you nearly avoided him entirely and focused on the others because of it. The memory makes you a little bitter as you continue to glare at the man in front of you.

“Listen,” You pause to swallow the mouthful of whiskey you take in before he can finish. “I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here. As soon as I have enough strength to do so I’m going to leave.”

“Oh so you are open to a truce?” He smiles sweetly.

“How about a one-sided deal?” You say thoughtfully, ignoring his gummy grin. “You let me go and I don’t kill you where you sit and devour your soul.”

He shakes his head softly. “No dice. I need to know something and I’m not allowing you to leave until you tell me.”

“I’m hungry and the longer I’m here the worse it’s going to get. I don’t want to feed from you.” You pout.

“Specifically me?” His eyebrows lift curiously.

“Specifically you. How do I put this…you taste bad?” It suddenly dawns on you how ridiculous this conversation is. What in the fucking first date situation is happening right now?

He recoils. “I what?”

“You haven’t been all that edible to me for some time, Min Yoongi.” You mutter. You throw back another drink and gesture for him to fill your glass, only continuing once he does so. Fuck it, you’re stuck here anyway. You test the amount of strength you have and freshen yourself up from your encounter with Taehyung. You’re pleased to find it doesn’t leave you winded or feeling weak to use your power this much. “Guilt, shame, loneliness. These are some of the emotions I feed off of. Lust can be especially tasty if there’s a negative emotion attached to it.”

His brow furrowed in confusion.“I experience those emotions.” You notice his gaze flickers from your face to your chest where the ample swell of your breast under your dress invites his attention. Yoongi’s eyes flash to your cleavage twice before he shrinks away in embarrassment, trying to cover it with a hand over his mouth and looking away entirely.

“You said so yourself,” Yoongi is silent while you drink half of your glass in one sitting, using your arms to squeeze together and lift your breasts. He swallows and then quickly follows with another sip from his glass, face flushing deeply. “You’ve accepted these negative emotions as a part of who you are and that you have to deal with them. It isn’t particularly appetizing tasting your depression when you aren’t letting it control you like you used to.” You glance down at his fingers and find the cuticles intact. The corners of your mouth pull down at the sight. You’re going to run out of time if you aren’t careful.

“You don’t dwell on your shortcomings. I know for a fact you feel lonely sometimes, but you squash it before it can grow into something edible.You used to bury your loneliness and sadness in your work. I definitely fed from you then and you tasted fine. But now…” You shrug and use a little of your power to increase the size of your breasts and deepen the cut of the neckline of your dress all without having to lift a finger. They bounce softly with the growth, making you smirk when they catch his attention while he’s supposed to be listening to you. Keep staring, Yoongi. “It’s especially delicious and filling if you’re still wallowing on a traumatic event I’ve caused in your life.”

Yoongi blinks a few times and you can see the gears turning in his head before he looks at you in surprise. You grin thinking he’s going to call you out on making your breasts bigger. He had to notice when you moved your arms and let them drop back into their natural position. “So you…” You’re not sure what he’s talking about until you see him touch his repaired shoulder. “I’ve been wondering…if you’ve been behind everything.”

“Of course it was me. Remember how you thought that car just came out of nowhere? And don’t forget your fucking ear.” You grin devilishly. You begin to salivate at the briefest taste of his bitterness while he’s remembering those events and the associating pain. Especially with that shoulder.

“You caused both of those incidents so you could feed off of me?” His eyes seem to be searching for the answer on the table instead of the demon in front of him who is starting to get hits of the growing sadness in his chest.

You hum. “The fear you experienced worrying about whether or not anyone would find out and kick you from the group, oh, Yoongi.” You nearly moan at remembering it. “Then when you were unable to perform because of your ear? I remember you being pretty upset about that as well.”

“I could have died!” He says sharply. You bite the inside of your cheek to hide the pleasure you’re getting from the rush of sustenance coming to your needy body. “Do you have any idea how much I suffered because of that?”

“No, I didn’t want you dead so you didn’t die. My intent was to feed and not kill you. I was there the whole time to watch you suffer. You fed me so well during those times.” You laugh. “Though I originally planned for you to break an ankle or something instead of the ear thing. Even your neck would have been better than your damn ear.”

Shock, hurt and pain briefly flash over his features and you almost wish you could hear what he is thinking. Instead you’re too busy bracing yourself with your palms on the floor as you breathe him in deeply and quietly so you can take the deepest of dregs. There’s tingling in your fingertips and toes as you take bit by bit. The cramping in your stomach is beginning to cease as it recognizes it is being fed, and you can even feel your mood starting to lift at the prospect of being full again. You had to hurry though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to feed off of Yoongi this way for very long.

Just as you have that thought Yoongi’s eyes close while he takes a deep breath as if to settle himself, lifting his shoulders up to his ears as best he can and then releasing the breath through his mouth. You panic as the mouthful you’ve just taken weakens. He’s taking your chance at sustenance away! You’re so close to having enough power to try to escape it makes your body quiver in anticipation. He does it again and as soon as you see his shoulders relax you find yourself lunging forward to try and catch the last wisp of his pain, crawling atop the table and spilling your glass of whiskey in the process. He’s definitely learned to deal with his trauma and that’s not good for you, especially right now.

“No, no, no, YoongipleaseI’msohungry…” You beg, ravenous, shocking him by sitting on your knees on top of his table, grabbing his hand and rubbing your cheek against it. “Please just give me a little more.” You’ve acted so fast your brain hasn’t had time to catch up to your actions. It can take its time since all you care about is eating right now, any way you can.

Yoongi gapes at you for a solid minute. He’s never even dreamed of seeing you like this before. The demon that’s been tormenting him and his friends over the past almost 10 years on top of his table rubbing her cheek against his hand and begging to be fed like a cat. He’d be lying if he said this didn’t do things to him. There’s a small part of him that’s loving the sudden amount of control over you that you’ve given him. An entity that has done her very best to hurt him without killing him is now on her knees before him and begging him to provide her with sustenance. The thought makes his cock stir in his pants.

“You could feed me with your arousal as well.” You purr, already onto the faint scent that’s tickling your senses. It’s precisely when that realization hits him that your own eyes slowly open and you guide his hand down your neck, along your breast, where you allow his palm to rest briefly to cup the weight of it. You hold his hand at your breast when you feel him trying to pull away in embarrassment. “I know you’ve been staring, take your time…”

He swallows and continues groping you so you make a show of it, moaning softly and closing your eyes. Then you take his wrist and guide his hand down your torso. When his hand goes over your hips and thighs you spread your legs, sliding his hand between them to your warmth. Yoongi looks up at your face when his fingertips come in contact with your center.

“How hungry are you?” Yoongi asks, eyes looking into yours briefly before flicking down directly into your cleavage. You’re close enough he could nuzzle into your breasts to his heart’s content. He’s sure you’d be warm and soft and he wants to experience this so badly. Arousal makes his skin tingle where he’s touching you and you absorb it into your body quickly.

“I need to eat, I need to eat very badly.” You gasp, ready to lose your damn mind. “It’s so bad I can’t think straight.”

He licks his lower lip and tucks it between his teeth for a brief moment before staring directly at you. “Beg for me.”

“Please Yoongi, I need…I need you. I’m so tired, I don’t know how much more of getting to feed and then being starved I can take.”

“You know….none of this is really my problem.” Yoongi hums in thought despite the fact that he’s moving his fingertips between your labia slowly, enjoying the way you tremble. He watches a thick droplet of your slick hit his tabletop and his eyes narrow. “As much as I enjoy the feeling of you on my fingers, I want to watch you. How about you feed yourself? Masturbate.”

Without hesitation you’re giving Yoongi a full view of your glistening cunt, tucking the hem of your dress under your chin. “It doesn’t work that way! I can’t feed off of myself.” You’re already rubbing your clit though, unable to stop yourself because of his command. Your thighs twitch under your own ministrations, your hole clenching under his stoney gaze.

“Hmmm perhaps you should figure out a way to do it then.” Yoongi shrugs, reaching for his glass and sitting back with it. He drinks from the glass at his leisure, eyes fixated on your fingers. Angrily, you lift your dress just a bit higher to expose your breasts and you can feel Yoongi’s wall of stone crumble a little. That’s when you’re able to feel the smallest of tastes of Yoongi getting turned on again. Spurred on by this little victory you wrack your brain for an idea.

“Show me how wet you are.” Yoongi says after another sip. His gaze has yet to meet your face which definitely meant you were pulling him in. You use your index and middle finger to part your puffy lips for him, middle finger rubbing small circles into your clit and making lewd noises that make the skin on the back of Yoongi’s neck prickle in excitement. He slides his sweatpants down his thighs, giving himself a few good strokes before using his own saliva to help start a lazy rhythm. Oh if he was going to participate then this would be such an easy meal!

A steady supply of Yoongi’s arousal flows into you while the two of you use each other to get off, even though one of you was compelled to do so. You’re a little surprised Yoongi would even want to, considering you’ve physically injured him multiple times, however you weren’t going to argue. He agreed to feed you a little and you weren’t going to waste it.

You’re not the only one making lewd noises. Yoongi’s moans almost sound like purrs and the sound sends shivers down your spine. Yoongi tastes delicious this time, no doubt about it. Your body wants more of what he’s giving you but you can’t be greedy. It’s been a really long time since you’ve gotten a taste of this side of him.

“Such a good girl.” He smirks.

“Fuck you, I don’t have a choice.” You snap. Even if he is doing you a favor, this whole situation was bullshit and once again out of your control.

He clicks his tongue in irritation and sets his glass down. “Of course you have a choice: listen to me and get fed, or starve. Which would you rather do?”

You reach out and grab him by the hair with the intention of slamming his skull onto the edge of the table so you can watch him bleed out. However once your fingers are tangled into his soft locks you suddenly don’t have the strength to push him backward. Instead you’re pulling him toward you. Quickly, you let go of him in shock when you realize what you’re doing. He gives you a knowing grin and rests his weight on his hands while giving you a once over.

“Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” He chuckles, tilting his head to the side cutely. “Do you need my help?”

“Never.” You snap.

“Then you’d better get back to masturbating if you want to be fed.” Your fingers go back between your legs. You clench to prevent any of your arousal from dripping out for his hungry gaze and are rewarded with a sharp spike of his lust. He must be misinterpreting your actions but it looks like that’ll help you in the end. “You’re more sensitive now that I’m watching you right? It feels even better since I’m here? Use both hands so I can watch you cum without touching you.” He sits back again and relaxes while you obey, pumping himself again in time with your fingers. You’re shocked. He’s willingly feeding you? Why? “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a monster.”

“I’ve tortured you for years and almost killed you today and you want to just let me feed from you?” You’re panting because he’s made you more sensitive. Yoongi offering himself up to you brings you so much pleasure your mouth starts watering.

“You can’t kill me.” Yoongi shrugs. “Despite the fact that you’ve done your very best to make our lives a living hell since you’ve been in it, you’ve also helped us. You’re unable to change your existence as a demon. I accept your nature. So I will feed you a little just this one time.”

You grit your teeth for a second and decide to let your building anger go. You’ve managed to lose control of the situation again and this motherfucker has the audacity to try and say he understands you? Your thighs are trembling and your body is awash with the amount of arousal rolling off of Yoongi and into you. With every passing second you’re tumbling closer to an orgasm. It feels really good and the thought of getting to feed off of Yoongi making you feel good makes it feel even better.

“Yoongi,” You warn, thighs twitching. You’re so far gone in your pleasure you don’t realize how out of the ordinary this is.

“Stop.”

You release a shuddering breath, hands frozen where they are. But you want to keep going. Deep down you find yourself wanting to cum for Yoongi, curious to see what he would do next if you touched yourself until you came right in front of him on his own furniture after nothing more than a verbal command.

“This isn’t doing it entirely for you is it,” You say softly, knowing that look in his eyes. Half-lidded and heated, you can see clearly he wants to be involved in your undoing. You’ve seen that look many times on Taehyung’s handsome face. “Go on, take it.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate and leans forward to latch onto your heat, lips wrapping around your chubby clit and suckling. Quickly your dress is gone and your hands are in his hair again, rubbing your fingertips into his scalp. He hums in approval and your legs start shaking, his own hands traveling up the curve of your hips and right to your breasts, as if he’s been holding back on attempting to touch them this entire time.

You coo at him when he expertly curls his tongue around your most sensitive place, forcing you to twitch and shake with each stroke just as a wave of his arousal fills your belly. You should stop him here, you don’t want to get too full and vomit again. But you don’t know what the limit is and he’s way too fucking good at this for you to call it quits just yet.

“Ah fuck!” You gasp when he pauses to hold you open further for him, mouth glistening with the evidence of how well he’s eating you out, eyes dark and heavy-lidded before diving right back in. He’s using his lips and tongue in tandem, forcing you to lay back to grip the opposite edge of the table, eyes melting black in your own pleasure. He gives you a particularly hard suckle and you splinter the edge of his table in your grip, unable to control your strength in the heat of the moment. “Yoongi, I want you to fuck me…”

He pulls away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand with a thoughtful expression. “I didn’t even have to command you to want me to fuck you,” he grins. “Should I be proud?”

“Try again when you haven’t commanded me to be sensitive to your touch first.” You pant.

“That command wore off ages ago,” Yoongi murmurs as he leans over to lick your nipple slowly. “This is all you and me now.” You shudder at the thought but know he’s full of shit. He’s using both his hands and mouth on your nipples now and all you can do is squirm and moan. He has to be full of shit. You can’t imagine he’d be truthful at this point. Of course he compelled you to feel like this! You weren’t sure if you should continue to eat and find yourself torn on wanting to cum on Yoongi’s dick and fill your stomach.

Ignorant to your current thoughts, Yoongi’s removing his jacket and sliding his sweatpants further down, thick cock slapping against his lower belly. Hooking your ankles around his hips you urge him closer, ignoring that smile he gives you while he steadies himself with one hand on the table, using the other to rub himself against your glistening, puffy lips. You try to pull him forward in an effort to hurry him along, breach your walls, and fuck you until you’re drooling but he stops you with a click of his tongue.

“I said I’ll help you a little.” He says and it nearly makes you whine. “This is all you’re getting, and you’re going to lay back and fucking enjoy it like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Your eyes roll shut and you groan when he starts rubbing the head of his cock along your slick-covered lower lips. This has you shuddering without being able to control it, your voice doesn’t sound like your own to yourself when he starts rocking his hips. His hand is moving along his length with each of his thrusts but he’s keeping himself against you instead of inside. It’s more than you can take, his command making your thoughts unclear and any calls to action disappear without a trace.

“You’re so fucking warm,” Yoongi moans, hand moving faster. “Would you just lay back and let me do whatever I wanted to you if I asked? You would, wouldn’t you?”

You have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from responding with a desperate yes to his questions. The thought of just laying back and being under Yoongi’s control sounds delicious.

“Not that kind of demon, Yoongi.” You murmur. “You guys keep confusing me with a goddamn, ugh, Succubus.”

Yoongi’s devilish tongue curls in his mouth at the thought of getting to taste you, fuck you, or do whatever he felt like at the time at the drop of a hat with you under his complete control and cums, moans sounding like the sweetest thing you’ve heard since leaving Taehyung’s. It’s only then that he fucks into you, using his thumb on your clit to finally bring you to the orgasm you’ve been working for since his first compelling. He keeps you grounded with a hand on your stomach while rolling his hips into you lazily as he comes down from his own high with a deep shudder.

Yoongi’s hand slides lower on your belly just below your belly button. His touch is cool for just a moment and then his expression changes and it burns, almost to the point of making it uncomfortable for you. It makes you squirm. Then your whole body lights up and you have to arch your back just to expel the pent up feeling you get.

“I’m going to puke again aren’t I?” You mumble miserably, not noticing Yoongi’s weird actions from a moment before. You’re too caught up on what’s going to happen to you next.

Yoongi chuckles and runs his free hand through his dampened hair, pulling out of you with a hiss in oversensitivity. “Not this time.”

You perk up at that. “What do you mean not this time? What do you know?!”

He shrugs. “I am the genius Min Yoongi. I know everything.”

You can feel vitality flowing through your body once again yet you hesitate to celebrate the feeling. Could you trust Yoongi to tell you the truth about this session? The others tricked you, and it’s obvious these fucks have a goal now that you can’t put your finger on, so the odds of him telling the truth are not in your favor. Yoongi straightens himself up and gives you a look that says not to try any funny business.

It has already been a few minutes and nothing has happened. No symbols, no burning, no pain, and most importantly, no vomiting. You roll over onto your hands and knees to stretch like a cat and have a satisfying groan when bones that make up your spine and hips pop.

“You kept your word.” You say in surprise. He gives you another look that says no shit and you snatch his hands and clutch them to your chest, smirking when his face flushes despite what you two have just done. “Yoongi, marry me.”

He scoffs and pulls his hands out of your grasp, eyes searching your face for a moment. Suddenly, you feel your strength leave you and you flop onto your side, banging your temple against the table. You’re too weak to even lift your head. It’s as if whatever brief sustenance you got from Yoongi has been taken away just as quickly, leaving you hungry and fragile again. You know this feeling…the fucking whisky.

“Yoongi,” You groan. “You poisoned me with Angel’s Trumpet.”

“Very good,” Yoongi chuckles. “We can’t have you pulling any more of your usual tricks going forward. I did get the information I needed though, so thanks for that. Oh, and for fixing my dry spell.”

“Fuck you,” You snap even though the usual venom isn’t there. You were stupid, so stupid to trust one of them again. Was this it then? Was Yoongi planning on using some sort of spell he found in some dusty ass book somewhere that told him how to break the deal between you and Jungkook? If that happened…what would they do to you? “This isn’t over! As soon as I can get my strength back your life is going to be-

“Go to sleep.”

Everything goes black before you can do anything else. As soon as you go limp, eyes closed and breathing evenly, Yoongi pulls out his phone just as it starts ringing.

“Hyung? She’s ready.”

Prologue Jimin J-Hope Taehyung

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #suga smut #bts smut #bts x reader

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tenthousandyearsx · 2 years ago

Text

WIP Snip

Fandom: Harry Potter Category: M/M Relationship: Draco Malfoy / Harry Potter Rating: Knowing me, it will likely be E. This snippet is G however (or T for cursing, I suppose). Author: tenthousandyears (tumblr | AO3) Thanks: Thanks to the wonderful @crazybutgood for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own. Additional Tags: Fall in love or die, Curses, Veritaserum, Pining

Summary:

Draco sits down heavily on the sofa. Potter is fucking doomed. Potter is going to die unless he falls in love with Draco. Which means that Potter is going to die.

Notes: I've been tagged by several people, but I thought I was going to finish my Fall-In-Love-Or-Die fic and just post it. Alas, no luck. Since I'm working on a separate WIP for an anon fest now, I thought I might as well post a snippet. Enjoy! x

The knock on his door at 10 pm on a Tuesday is unexpected, but it’s the sight that presents itself when Draco opens the door that makes him freeze.

“Malfoy,” Granger says, looking apologetic. “We need to talk.”

Weasley has none of the same courtesy, the oaf, which doesn’t surprise Draco in the slightest. It does, however, surprise him to be suddenly held at wand point.

“Let us in,” Weasley says.

“It’s a matter of life and death,” Granger says urgently. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it always, with the Golden Trio?”

Potter is not with them, he notices, which makes his stomach knot unpleasantly.

Draco hasn’t seen Granger and Weasley in years. He has kept up with Potter, obviously, the press makes it impossible not to; but he hasn’t talked to him since the trials, even though he sees him around sometimes. They nod at each other on the best of days – and that’s that.

“It’s about Harry,” Granger says, and Draco’s stomach properly twists now, which is utterly preposterous.

“Fine,” he drawls, even though he should probably ask, How is this my problem? And, Was that supposed to be a convincing argument? And even, What in Salazar’s name are you doing on my doorstep? The words don’t come, however, and he arches an eyebrow and opens the door to let them in.

Granger and Weasley follow him inside through a corridor and into Draco’s sitting room, and Draco has the time to catalogue the tiredness in their eyes, the sallowness of their skin, how much both of them fidget. They don’t look much different from their Hogwarts days, even though both of them are Aurors now.

It’s a sobering thought. Draco always assumed the Golden Trio must have developed nerves of steel after the war, but perhaps that’s just not how Gryffindors operate. If he thinks of Potter – stubborn, heroic Potter just flinging himself into life and death situations, all hot-headedness and no thought – Draco has to wonder whether the myth of Gryffindors’ skillfully wielded courage is just that – a myth, a PR operation for people who move through the world with their hearts, not with their heads. His chest feels funny again and he wonders where Potter is.

“Can we have a drink?” Granger asks, once they are seated. “Something strong. It would help.”

Draco’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t really peg you for a Whiskey type, Granger.”

He complies, however, mostly because he feels like he needs one too. What has Potter got himself into, for Weasley and Granger to be looking for him?

He summons three glasses and a bottle of Talisker, and fills all three. Every noise is amplified in the silence, the clinking of glass, the pouring of Whiskey, Weasley’s overt fidgeting. Draco eyes them, tension zinging through his own body, and levitates two glasses to them.

“Do you know what this is?” Weasley asks, taking out a few sheets of paper from the pocket of his robes and handing them to Draco. His wand is still out. Draco eyes it wearily but takes the papers nonetheless.

At first, Draco is unsure of what he’s looking at. The writing is minute, the curls precise. Complex calculations are scattered among geometric shapes and rune patterns, the result so intricate it’s practically bewildering. It’s nothing Draco has ever seen used in this specific way before.

He sits down and reaches blindly for his own glass while staring at the pages.

“These are to calculate location,” he muses aloud, scanning the pages and gesturing vaguely with his glass. The other end of a spell? Or the one who cast it? No, that doesn’t seem right.

He takes a sip. There are more than two endings; there are… at least three. A triangulated spell. He turns the page frowning and there it is, a triangle with the relevant runes and coordinates jotted down. And the last one ends right at his – right at his –

“I’ve put Veritaserum in your drink,” Granger says out of nowhere and Draco is startled enough that he drops his glass. It smashes on the floor, the liquid splattering on the polished wood and seeping into the carpet.

Draco is on his feet before he knows it, his heart hammering wildly, his wand pointed at Granger.

“What the fuck, Granger?”

“Don’t you even think about it, mate,” Weasley says, his own wand trained on Draco.

Draco’s body shakes. He doesn’t know what they can possibly want, doesn’t think he’s been so ready to leap and hex since the war.

“You come to my house,” he seethes. “You hold me at wand point, you drug me –”

Granger swallows but doesn’t move. “I only need to ask you a few questions, Malfoy. Then we’ll be out of your way.”

“I’ve only had a sip,” Draco spits. “You won’t be able to get anything out of me.”

“True. But I put the equivalent of three vials in that glass.”

Fuck.

Draco’s throat tightens with rage and fear and he has to fight the need to lash out, to put both of them in a Body Bind and step on their faces.

He considers Apparating away until the effects of the Veritaserum wear off, but Granger’s It’s about Harry echoes in his mind and he can’t bring himself to move.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hisses instead. His fingers itch to hex them, level the field a bit, but he can recognise a checkmate when he sees one. There’s no way he can get both of them without ending up in a Body Bind himself.

“Just ask him, so he can say no and we can be on our way,” Weasley mutters. Then, to Draco, “We’re not enjoying this either, Malfoy, whatever you think.”

Draco ignores the urge to spit in his face.

Granger braces herself and looks up at him.

“Malfoy,” she says. “Draco.” Draco winces. “Are you in love with Harry?”

Draco freezes. That’s not what he expected. But he’s even more shocked when his mouth opens and he says, “Yes.”

Weasley looks like he’s been struck by a Stunning Spell, and Draco cannot blame him, because that’s how he feels too. “What –”

“Were you in love with him at Hogwarts?” Granger presses on, and Draco’s mouth opens, and to his horror, he finds himself saying, “Yes.”

He turns around, startled, his hands flying to his hair. He wants to pull it out.

“What’s this?” he asks. “Did you want to humiliate me? Congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Now, if you can just fuck off –”

The unthinkable happens, then – Granger crosses the room in three strides and hugs him.

“Oh god, it’s you.”

“What –” Draco starts again, bewildered, and when she pulls back, he's astonished to see her wiping away her tears.

“That just makes it worse, ‘Mione,” Weasley says, looking completely baffled. “You’re weird as hell, Malfoy, you know that?” He almost lowers his wand then, but he changes his mind half-way and points it back at Draco, his gaze hard. “Would you intentionally hurt Harry, if you had the opportunity?” he asks, and Draco whispers, “No.”

Draco is too stunned to keep a hold on his rage or to keep track of what’s happening. He’s too unsettled by what he’s being forced to confront after all this time – without having seen Potter in weeks, without having talked to him in years.

Granger looks at him as if she can read his mind. “Have you seen Harry, recently?”

“I –” Draco swallows, the Veritaserum taking over again. “There’s this Muggle breakfast place, not far from here. I see him there, sometimes, in the morning. But… not in weeks. We haven’t talked since the trials.”

Granger nods. “And you are still in love with him.”

“I don’t –” Draco croaks. “Yes.”

The room spins. Draco knows what he said is true. He knows he has never uttered anything truer in his life. But he didn’t know. He hadn’t wanted to know.

Weasley lowers his wand, passes a hand over his face, and collapses on his sofa.

Draco might be too shaken to collect his thoughts, but he still raises his wand, points it at Weasley and growls, “Explain.”

Weasley doesn’t even flinch, he just grabs his drink and downs it in a single gulp. Granger picks up the papers again, skimming them ruefully.

“Harry has – has had an encounter with a hag,” she says.

“He’s been cursed,” Weasley says. “On the job. It’s –”

Draco swallows. Hag magic is no laughing matter. If these two are here, in his living room, they must be at their wits’ end.

“Go on,” he says, because this is still about Potter and Draco is in love with him, Salazar’s fucking –

Draco has to remind himself to breathe. He would have appreciated some time to freak out alone, but that's apparently not an option. His heart is thrumming and he can feel it everywhere.

“The curse was in hags’ tongue,” Granger says. “It's a good thing Harry thought of preserving the memory, because otherwise… Well, that’s why it took us so long. I translated it and –” she takes a deep breath "– Harry is going to die, Malfoy, at the next equinox. Unless he falls in love with –” she swallows “– with someone who has been pining for him for 180 moons.”

“That’s fifteen years, Malfoy,” Weasley says, looking truly distressed now.

Draco opens his mouth and closes it, feeling completely wrong-footed.

“What made you think that meant me?” he almost wails, because that couldn’t have been obvious. It hadn’t been obvious to him.

“We went through every other option,” Granger says. “Every other person we could think of. Then, I remembered that I’d read somewhere about combining Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to calculate the location of magical threads – assuming that I could unravel them first, obviously. Well, it took me ages, but I could. And after that, I could pinpoint the three points of the curse. One was the hag, untraceable. One was Harry. The third – the third brought us here.”

Draco sits down heavily on the sofa, his eyes on the shattered glass, the liquid a useless pool on the floor. That’s how he feels too. Shattered. Hollowed out.

Potter is fucking doomed. Potter is going to die unless he falls in love with Draco. Which means that Potter is going to die.

“What are you asking?” he croaks, because this is still about Potter, and Draco has been in love with him for fifteen years. Salazar’s sagging bollocks. “What do you expect me to do?”

They must want him to do something. Do they expect him to date Potter? The thought is fucking ludicrous, and it makes Draco want hex everything in sight.

Trying to date Potter means he will have to face Potter’s rejection first and Potter’s death later. He doesn’t think he can take it.

“We’re trying to keep Harry alive,” Granger says, like Draco is being deliberately obtuse. “And for that to happen, he needs to fall in love with you, Malfoy.”

Draco lets out a hysterical laugh and leans forward to stare at her. “He’s fucking doomed then, isn’t he, Granger?”

“Don’t you fucking dare –”

Draco looks up at Weasley balefully, but Granger has put a hand on Weasley’s arm, eyes intent on Draco.

“What do you have to lose?” she says. “You’re already in love with him. If it goes well, you’ll get what you want. If it doesn’t –” She swallows. “Well, Harry will be dead anyway.”

Draco can't breathe.

“I’m looking at other scenarios too, obviously,” Granger continues. “I’m trying to unravel the curse, but it’s been two months and I have nothing, Malfoy. Nothing.”

“Well, how do you suggest I go about it?” Draco snaps. “You can’t fucking expect me to ask him on a date.”

“I don’t know,” Granger says, chewing on the inside of her cheek, looking as despairing as he feels. “You cannot ask him on a date, that’s out of the question. He’ll know it has come from us and he must not find out. You can’t tell him we approached you, Malfoy, or he won’t talk to us about the curse anymore and we need him to keep us updated, so I can adjust my research accordingly. We – We might have set him up on a bit too many dates,” she sighs. “We had a fight about it. He asked us to stop meddling, but see, he’s not doing anything to survive this, he’s just…”

“Wallowing?”

“Not even that, he’s… sure that it will all solve itself or – or not.” She swallows. “And he’s not particularly worried about the… not scenario.” She smooths her papers, frustrated. “He’s just not – He’s not good at this, Malfoy, not just not getting himself into life or death situations, obviously, but also… you know. He hates dating. He’d probably been on three dates in his whole life before this curse and he hated every single one of them. Don’t tell him I told you this. We sent him on about thirty-seven in the last two months –”

“Thirty-seven?!”

“– and he has hated every single one of them, too. It’s just – it’s just not his thing.”

“Thirty-seven dates, Granger. Bloody hell, were you just picking them off the street?”

“We were not picking them off the street,” Granger scowls. “We went through people in our year, and then… some of the other years. That’s the thing. We needed someone who has known Harry for at least fifteen years.”

Draco rubs his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Wasn't he seeing your sister?” he asks in Weasley’s direction.

Weasley scoffs. “My sister has been dating Hannah for the past five years.”

“Not in love with him, then?”

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

The feeling of relief that surges in Draco pisses him off even more.

“Fine,” he snaps. “So what do you suggest? Even if I’m willing to try, which I’m not sure is a humiliation I want to subject myself to, Potter won’t – He’s still going to die.”

Granger chews her lip. “Can you think of an excuse to live with him?”

“Live with him?”

“He has only three months until the equinox, Malfoy. It was five, but we wasted two. Do you think you’re going to woo him with flowers and some letters?”

Draco can’t woo Potter. He has to tell her that, at least.

“He hates me,” he says instead. The words feel bitter in his mouth. “You know he hates me. This won’t work.”

Granger eyes him speculatively. “He’s always been obsessed with you,” she says. “If he ever hated you, I’m sure he hasn’t in a long time. Will you give it a try?”

And Draco has to laugh, because they have asked him if he is in love, if he has been all along, if he would ever hurt Potter – and now they think he won’t try?

“You knew I’d help since I answered your first bloody question,” he says bitterly, “Of course I’ll give it a try. But let’s be clear, Granger. I won’t court him.”

Granger opens her mouth to protest, but Draco raises a hand to stop her.

“I’ll help you research the curse. I’ll move in and keep an eye on him, if he’ll bloody have me. I’ll do what I can. But I won’t –” He swallows. “I won’t court him. I won’t do anything romantic. I won’t –” forsake my dignity, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. “I can’t,” the Veritaserum pulls out of him, and Draco chokes on it, hates saying it and hates that it’s true. “That’s my only offer. I don’t care what you say. That’s as far as I can go. Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Granger says earnestly.

“But –” Weasley says, startled. Granger shakes her head at him and Draco doesn’t have to watch to know she's mouthing Veritaserum. He looks away, pretending not to have noticed. His eyes sting.

He Vanishes the mess on the floor, summons another glass, and reaches for the bottle of Talisker, pouring himself some more Whiskey, trying to drown his terror about the fact that Potter is going to die, the shock of being faced with his own feelings, and the horror of having been outmanoeuvred by two Gryffindors – one of them not even particularly bright.

“Good,” he says. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry wip snip #draco x harry #harry x draco #fanfiction #my wombo art #hp #my wip snips #my fics #I would kill for this Draco tbh x_x

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sophierequests · 2 years ago

Note

hello ! i would like to congratulate you for your 100 followers. i discovered your work some days ago and it’s pure gold for real !! it’s so amazing ! 💓

by the way, i saw that you requests are open and i had a little idea on my mind. could it be possible a jesper fahey x reader where reader and him are best friends. reader doesn’t like to show her emotions and tends to deny feelings she has for him, being quite harsh sometimes. then one day he confronts her about her behavior and she admits her feelings ?

i don’t know if it’s interesting and if you want to write it. if you don’t, it’s okay don’t worry about it ! and i’m sorry if i made some mistakes since english isn’t my first language.

falling for you, fool's gold

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x f!Reader

A/N: Hi! First of all, thank you sm for the compliment, I'm so thankful that you enjoy my writing <333 Jesper fics give me life, so I'd probably write everything if it involves our favourite sharpshooter. But I really enjoyed your request, so I hope you like this, sweet anon!

Summary: Suppressed feelings create some unwanted tensions.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Mention of gambling and alcohol

“When are you finally going to put us out of our misery and just ask him out?” You almost choked on your drink when Nina said that. The two girls sitting across from you only giggled after seeing your eyes widen ever so slightly.

“I have absolutely no clue who you are talking about.” Lie. You knew exactly who they were talking about. Even though you tried to hide your feelings as best as you could, Nina could feel the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he was around, so it obviously didn’t take Kaz’s level of deduction skills to figure that out.

“Dirty liar.” She whispered, leaning towards you with a devilish grin, almost tipping over the glass of whiskey in front of her whilst doing so. Inej only gave you an apologetic smile, but you knew that she was enjoying this just as much as Nina did.

“Nina’s right, Y/N. It would do you both some good if you would just tell him. And we could finally stop walking on eggshells whenever Jesper and you are in the same room.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, but Jesper and I are just friends.” Nina let out a dramatic groan, throwing her arm on the table and resting her head on top of it, looking up at you with pleading eyes. Always the drama queen. "There are absolutely no romantic feelings involved."

“Where are no romantic feelings involved? What are you girls gossiping about?” Jesper suddenly appeared in front of you, visibly in the mood to join in on the conversation. Maybe you should order a new drink.

“Y/N’s dating life - or the lack thereof.” The Heartrender answered quickly, stifling a laugh when she saw the look of horror that flashed over your face when she said that. Thankfully, Jesper hadn't noticed it, instead raising an inquisitive brow at you before he shoved himself into the booth beside you.

“That's a topic which I'll gladly stay for!" He gave you a wink, swiftly putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you a bit closer to his side. Saints, how you hated this.

However, you also hated hating this. He was your best friend. Hugging, touching, and occasionally flirting were something you had always done. You had never been uncomfortable with that before until you started to realize that you might think of him a little differently than you initially thought. He didn't deserve to be subjected to your - probably very much unrequited - feelings and all the effects it had on your behaviour towards him.

"I don't think she necessarily wants you to stay," Inej commented slyly, causing Jesper to frown and direct his attention back to you again.

"Why's that? Do I play a role in it?" He inquired with a smug smile playing across his lips. "Have I missed you pouring your heart out and telling everyone about the crush you have on me?"

"In your dreams, Fahey." You tried to play off the stinging embarrassment you felt. You wanted to focus on something else, stir the conversation in another direction, but whenever you tried to do so, you were made painfully aware of the way his arm laid on your shoulders. The way his hand mindlessly played with some strands of your hair, twirling it around his finger. The way his breath felt hot against your neck when he spoke to you. This was terrible.

"Oh come on, you know it's the truth." It was an obvious joke, you could hear it in his tone. But it made you feel even smaller than you felt before.

"No." Yes.

"You'll do eventually." This sounded less like a joke, the wink accompanying it didn't help.

"Just drop it, Jesper." You shrugged off his shoulder dismissively, resulting in him giving Nina and Inej a confused glance before carefully retreating his arm. You never called him 'Jesper' unless you were mad at him, so why would you start now? But he just couldn't put a finger on what might have annoyed you. Did he take it too far with one of his jokes? You had never minded him saying things like that.

"Okay?" He put emphasis on drawing out the word as long as he could, his expression changing from confused to worried. He wanted nothing more than to ask what was wrong, however, judging by your previous reaction, you probably wouldn't appreciate that very much.

Inej managed to lead the conversation in another direction - one that wouldn't force you to talk about things you didn't want to say out loud - but the tension between you and Jesper didn't die down by any means. The tension only got stronger the longer the silence settled. And in the evening, you didn't even hit him before returning to the Slat. He made an effort to ask the two girls that remained in their respective seats at the club, with no result. They simply feigned a clueless expression before leaving him to figure it out by himself.

The following week didn't help turn things around. Quite the opposite actually. It managed to make things even more awkward. You didn't sit as close to him as you used to during meetings. You skipped certain meals if that meant that you didn't have to be around him for any longer than needed. And you weren’t up for spending nights at the club with him anymore. It was as if your friendship had been put on hold and you went back to being strangers again.

You didn’t necessarily enjoy this arrangement either, but you worried that you might let something slip whenever he was around you, so you tried your best to avoid him. It was only after one particularly draining day that you didn’t feel like spending the evening cooped up in your room and decided to spend some time in the living room. Most of the others seemed to be out, so you could enjoy the quiet and continue reading whatever novel had currently caught your interest.

This supposed peace didn’t last long. You didn’t even manage to finish one chapter until you heard footsteps coming up the stairs. That didn’t have to mean anything. It could literally be anyone. But of course, luck wasn’t on your side, and the only person you didn’t want to see walked through the door.

At first, he didn’t even notice you, completely focused on adjusting the holster of his guns. But as soon as he reached the couch, probably intending to also take some time to unwind, he paused for a second, staring you up and down as if he had never seen you before.

“Hi.” He broke the silence, standing only a few metres away from you with his hands fidgeting in front of him like a child that expected scolding.

You turned your head to face him, having hesitated to do so in hopes that he would just continue walking. His hair was slightly damp and so were his clothes, which told you that he probably just came back from drinking - or gambling -, since it had been raining outside for the last couple of hours. Normally, you would have joined him during and after his non-work-related trips to the club, providing him with whatever kind of support or company he needed. Not this time though.

“Hi.” He almost looked startled that you actually interacted with him, no matter whether it was only briefly before getting back to your book.

“I, uhm, do you mind if I join you in here?” That question hit you right where it hurt. Jesper would have never asked to simply be around you. He would have respected your boundaries had you said no, but that would have probably never been a real issue.

“No, I don’t.” You answered, giving him your best impression of an inviting smile, however, still quickly taking your eyes off of him.

He didn’t sit next to you how he usually would, instead turning to lounge on the couch opposite you, pulling out his revolvers to absent-mindedly clean them. You could see the occasional curious glances he gave you when he thought you weren’t looking, and it drove you mad that you were too afraid to properly interact with him.

“Listen, Y/N.” He started with a sigh, causing you to look up from your novel to focus on him. “I don’t really understand what I did wrong, but I know that something is wrong. But if you’re avoiding me because of what happened last week, I’m sorry. I should’ve just stopped when you told me to. I know that you don’t have feelings for me, and it was stupid of me to make you uncomfortable by acting like you do.”

“I wouldn’t have had a problem with you annoying me if it hadn’t been the truth.” You thought, biting the inside of your cheeks to not break out crying.

“What?” Shit, did you say that out loud? The befuddled look on his face gave you a clear answer to that. “What did you say?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” He sat up straight again, gaping at you with wide eyes. You really should’ve just gone to bed.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He moved to stand up, but so did you. Whatever he was about to do, you didn’t want to be part of it. “You can’t just say something like that and pretend like I’m not supposed to care about it.” A mixture of emotions flashed over his face, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint what his exact feelings were at this point, nor did you feel like figuring it out.

“Jesper, stop it.”

“No, I won’t. This does concern me, and I have every right to care about it.”

“We both say stuff we don’t mean. That doesn’t mean that we have to talk about it.” Jesper’s expression changed to one of exasperation. For the first time since knowing him, he looked genuinely mad.

“Stuff we don’t mean? Ignoring me for a week because of this issue doesn’t really feel like you didn’t mean it.” He tried to take a step towards you, but the closer he got, the further you stepped back. “Just talk to me, please!”

“Would you mind just shutting up? I don’t have feelings for you. This comment meant nothing, no matter how much you might read into it.” You didn’t mean to say that. You didn’t mean to yell at him. You didn’t mean to hurt him. But you did.

He was quiet for a moment. You saw the way his lips quivered, trying to bite back the hurt you had caused. You had never yelled at him before. Not even when anyone else would’ve probably been close to murdering him.

“Goodnight, Jesper.” You didn’t wait for him to reply. Without sparing him another glance, you dashed out of the room, flying up the stairs to your room before he could think about following you. You felt utterly terrible, and the only thing you wanted to do now was cry. Saints, you felt stupid.

“Y/N!” His voice paired with the sound of his footsteps followed you up the stairs. Can’t he just take a hint? Before you could even reach your room, he seized your wrist to spin you around. “I’m not letting you ignore me for another week.”

“Jes-”

“No, you’re not doing this again. You’re not shutting me out again.” His grip on your wrist tightened as he spoke, his gray eyes piercing yours intently. “You can talk to me about this. Please talk to me about this.” Even though everything inside you screamed at you to push him away, you simply nodded, dragging him with you towards your room, since you didn’t intend on airing out your personal problems in the middle of the Slat.

“I love you.” As soon as the door shut behind him, the three words you had dreaded saying out loud just tumbled out of your mouth. Jesper, who was still holding onto your hand, was caught completely off-guard by that confession. He had already roughly put together what was going on, but he hadn’t expected you to actually say it. “And I hate that I do. Because whether I would have kept it a secret or not, it would always have an effect on our friendship, and I never wanted that to-”

His lips were suddenly pressed against yours, his hands moving to hold onto your hips while you were rendered completely speechless. After taking a second to sort your thoughts out, you returned his gesture, allowing your arms to wrap around his neck, bringing him down a bit closer to you in the process. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, you were sure that if he had leaned a bit further towards you, it would have ended in him toppling on top of you. All of the nervousness you had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a strong sense of warmth spreading inside your stomach. He liked you back.

“Maybe changing something about our friendship isn’t so bad after all.” You whispered before leaning in a second time, which he graciously accepted.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Jesper Fahey: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @writingmysanity @fall-writes

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

technicolor (f.w.)

prompt request by anon: it is said that when you meet your soulmate, you will know because the world that you knew in black and white would turn technicolor. during a harmless game of spin the bottle, you didn’t expect your soulmate to be revealed to you.

warnings: drinking, mentions of eating, mild language

pairing: fred weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

word count: 5.3k

The power of true love was life altering in your world. Literally. The world was painted in shades of blacks, whites, and grays. It always was for those who hadn’t met their true love, their soulmate, their one and only. It was said on the occasion that you had kissed your soulmate, the world before you would erupt into vibrant color. People spent their whole lives, searching for the person who brought color to them.

Living in a dull, colorless world was mundane to say the least, but it was all you knew. The idea of living in a world of color was an exciting thought to say the least, but in a way it scared you. Suddenly the world as you knew it changing abruptly before your eyes because you had met someone that destiny created for you? It was a scary thought. But in your head, you had nothing to worry about. You didn’t plan on meeting your soulmate any time soon.

Or so you thought.

Laying upside down on the common room couch, you flipped through the pages of a Quibbler, not really paying attention to the words on the page. You looked on either side of you, Katie painting her nails on your left and Alicia on the right making light chatter with Angelina. Needless to say, the four of you were bored out of your skull. It was a quiet Friday night, nothing happening in the common room. No parties, no quidditch match, no nothing.

With a groan, you pull yourself up from your inverted position and speak, “So are we all just going to sit around here like a bunch of bums and wait for something exciting to happen?”

Katie sighs, “That’s even if something exciting happens.” She blows on her nails, shaking her hands back and forth to expedite the drying process. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

The two of you look to Alicia and Angelina who just shrug as you throw your head back in annoyance. “Well, someone think of something because I refuse to let a perfectly good Friday night go to waste,” you flop the Quibbler on the table in front of you and hold your arms across your chest. “What can we do to entertain ourselves?”

Alicia stands up and starts pacing, trying to think of something. “We could...sneak some food out from the kitchens? Convince a house elf to sneak us some sweets from dinner two nights ago. Those biscuits were so good,” she thinks out loud.

Katie groans, “The thought of food makes me sick. I ate so much at dinner tonight after Ron challenged me to see how many dinner rolls I could fit into my mouth.”

The thought of Katie with bread rolls in her mouth makes the group chuckle. “Okay, so food is out of the picture,” Alicia speaks with a soft smile. “What about a movie? I can see if Hermione would let me borrow her projector and we could watch one of those movies I have tucked away in my trunk,” she suggests, surveying the group’s reaction.

Angelina makes a sour face. “We had a movie marathon last week, I’d like to do something different,” she tells Alicia who rolls her eyes.

Alicia huffs, plopping herself back onto the couch. “Well, then I’m out of ideas, so you come up with something, Johnson.”

The group sits in a bored silence for a few moments before Angie breaks the silence. “Should I go bother Fred and George? Surely they’ll find something to do. They always make things interesting,” she speaks, raising her brows, gaging her audience’s reaction.

Katie rolls her eyes, “Merlin, Angie, if you want an excuse to see your darling Georgie, you can just say so.” You laugh at her comment and give Katie a teasing high five as Alicia giggles along. Angelina rolls her eyes and leans back on the couch. Angelina and George had been dating ever since sixth year when they kissed after their first date and they had seen the world in color, confirming their soulmate status. Katie mockingly starts teasing Angie now, “Meh, meh, I’m Angie, I love George, I see the world in color. Meh, meh, my sweater is green and not black like you guys see it, blah, blah,” making you cackle, throwing your head back in laughter, clutching your stomach.

You lean into Katie as you laugh, making her laugh harder as Angelina stands up, “Oh, piss off you two! I can’t help it that he’s my soulmate and I found him so early!”

“We’re just teasing you, Angie,” you wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes. “Go on, go fetch the twins. I’m sure they’ll think of something to do. Tell ‘em to bring Jordan with them if he’s around. Lee is always a good time.” Alicia nods in agreement.

With a small smile, Angelina darts off up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Alicia shakes her head, “That girl is whipped for the Weasley. I can’t believe she found her soulmate already. We’re not even eighteen yet.”

It was true. It wasn’t unheard of people finding their soulmates at a young age, but it surely wasn’t common. Most people were friends or knew their soulmates for a while before they were aware that they were in fact soulmates. For example, your parents both went to Hogwarts and we friends for years. It wasn’t until after four years after graduation that they realized they were soulmates. You smiled to yourself at the thought of your parents. You wished that you could have a soulmate story like theirs.

Katie folds her arms across her chest, “Quite frankly I hope I don’t meet my soulmate anytime soon. I feel like after you meet your soulmate, you’re expected to drop everything and be with them. But you have your whole lives ahead of you to spend time with each other. I’d rather be single and have fun and live my life in black and white for a while before seeing color with a soulmate.”

In a way you did agree with Katie. Most people who met their soulmate at a young age tended to drop everything in order to be there for their soulmate. Coordinating their lives and schedules to their soulmates, moving cities for them, planning their days around the other. It just seemed so intense. You were seventeen, you couldn’t drop everything right now for another person.

Moments later, Angelina happily came down the stairs with a large smile on her face as George, Fred, and Lee all trailed behind her. “The entertainment has arrived, ladies,” George speaks with a big beaming smile on his face as you teasingly rolled your eyes.

You sit up and speak, “What entertainment did you bring, Georgie?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended at your comment. “Are we not enough for you, (Y/N)? Is our presence not enough?” George mockingly stumbles back. “Freddie, I feel faint! Catch me!”

Dramatically, Fred scoops up his twin brother as George pretends to faint. “Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), look at what you’ve done!” he mockingly screeches as you roll your eyes and giggle. Katie huffs a here we go as she leans back into the couch. The twins always put on a show when they were around you guys. You never minded it; they were quite funny when they wanted to be. “Quick, Lee, we need to revive him!”

Lee, now in on the joke, runs over to the coffee table and clear it quickly. “Bring him here!” he exclaims as Fred lays a fake limp George on the table as you laugh and Alicia scoffs.

“Good Godric, you three are a bunch of idiots,” she huffs with a smile on her face. No matter how much she hated to admit it, this was much better than sitting around and doing nothing.

Fred speaks, “Alright, Lee, give me the reviving potion,” sticking out his hand.

Even more dramatic than before, Lee pulls out a large bottle of fire whiskey from his satchel as he improvises an operatic song as he places it in Fred’s hands. Lee opens George mouth as Fred uncorks the bottle and pours a glug into George’s mouth. George swallows it and dramatically inhales. “I’ve been revived!” he exclaims as the boys cheer.

Katie perks up at the sight of fire whiskey. “Where in the hell did you get a bottle of that?” she sits up and grabs the bottle from Fred’s hands. Lee pulls out a few cups from his satchel and places them on the table, Katie immediately pouring everyone a glass of fire whiskey.

Fred smiles, “It’s our emergency bottle. In case situations like this happen.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Alicia speaks up, “And exactly how many emergency bottles do you boys have?”

The trio looks at each other before sighing and speaking as a chorus, “Four.”

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought,” she laughs before taking a cup of fire whiskey from Katie, Katie then handing you one. “Well, it’s better than nothing I guess.”

You look at the whiskey in your cup before sighing and taking a sip, the liquid burning your throat, but warming your chest up in all the right ways. A familiar sensation. You hum in contentment. “Better than nothing is damn right,” you smile as the twins chuckle. “What were you lot doing upstairs?”

Lee takes a seat in the chair across from the couch, “Same thing as you gals. Bored out of our skulls. However, these two numbskulls were trying to conjure up a plan to go pull a prank on Filch.” George snickers as Lee flicks the back of his head, earning a small ow. “Good thing you all were bored too otherwise I would have been dragged into that mess.”

Fred scoffs, “Oh please, you wish you could pull off a prank at the caliber that Georgie and I do. Isn’t that right, brother?” He turns to George who is already cuddled up next to Angelina on the love seat, arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close next to him. Fred rolls his eyes and makes a gagging sound. “You two make me sick.”

George just pulls Angie closer to his side as Angie blushes a deep crimson. “You’re just jealous, Freddie. I’ve got a hot girlfriend and I can see the world in color, making it quite obvious that you, dear brother, are green with envy.” Angie rolls her eyes, but still places a soft kiss to George’s cheek.

Fred shakes his head, “He’s gone soft, Lee. We’ve lost one of our bravest soldiers.”

“Piss off,” Angie speaks up, defending her boyfriend as Freddie chuckles, lips turning into a gorgeous smile. “Now that we’ve all got our drinks, let’s really get the party started...” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Katie Bell, truth or dare.”

Katie groans and sips her fire whiskey before deciding what she wants to do. As she ponders, you see Fred scoot over to you as you giggle, him dragging his bum on the floor, making his way to you. Fred smiles up at you, “This seat taken?” he refers to the spot on the floor right in front of your legs.

You shake your head with a smile, “It’s got your name written all over it, Weasley.”

Fred gives you a cheeky grin, “Brilliant.”

He turns around and leans his back up against your legs and rests one of his arms on your knees. You and Fred were close friends. In fifth year when Angelina confessed to you that she had a crush on George, you started spending more time with the twins and developed a close relationship with them and Lee. You, in particular, got along with Fred like a house on fire. The two of you loved to crack jokes on the sidelines, teasing George and Angie, giggling and stealing little glances here and there.

Angelina always told you that you and Fred would make a cute couple. She insisted she saw the way that Fred looked at you, but you always brushed it off as if it were nothing. You and Fred were friends, nothing more, nothing less. A partnership would just totally ruin the vibe between the two of you. There was no point to it. Even though you may have always admired Fred’s looks from a far and his charming personality, you had finally convinced yourself that you and Fred Weasley were platonic.

As Fred leaned up against your legs, sipping on his whiskey, your eyes found Angie’s as she lifted her brows, looking at you knowingly, sending you a look that said Oh? You rolled your eyes and shook your head, responding with your eyes, No way. She just shrugged and sipped her fire whiskey nonchalantly as if to say Whatever you say...You just brushed it off and leaned back as Katie challenged Lee to a dare.

----------

The night progressed and the drinking continued and the bottle got less and less full. Soon enough, the common room was full of your tipsy giggles as the lot of you cracked jokes with each other. You hugged your sides as you cackled as Fred did a spot on impression of Draco Malfoy as he mimicked him walking through the halls, yelling “Potter!” every now and then. Of course, the humor was amplified by the liquor in your hands, but it still was hilarious. The whole group was in a fit of giggles as Lee quite literally fell to the floor from laughter too hard.

Alicia laid her head in your lap as she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes as you all recovered from laughter. “Fred, that was brilliant. You’ll have to show Harry tomorrow morning,” she tells him as Fred plops down next to you on the couch, stealing Katie’s spot as she was now sat on the floor next to Lee.

Fred chuckles and rests his arm around the back of the couch, gently hovering behind you as you suddenly become very aware of his presence. You spot Angelina out of your periphery vision as she smirks to herself before leaning over and whispering something in George’s ear, making George look at you with a devilish smirk on his lips. Your gaze towards them hardens as you mouth, Knock it off. George just smiles and sips his drink quietly, pretending to mind his own business.

You turn to Fred and give him a soft smile as he drops his left eye in a wink, making your heart skip a beat. “Easy, Weasley,” you say in a cautious tone as he lifts his arms in defense. You shake your head and lean back into the couch, bumping into his arm that is draped across the back of the couch. Neither of you bother moving.

Alicia rises from your lap and reaches for the fire whiskey bottle, but groans in defeat when she realizes it’s empty. ��Bloody hell,” she groans. She looks to Lee and begs, “Is it appropriate to call this an emergency and you can grab another one of your emergency fire whiskeys?”

Lee laughs, “I regret to inform you we have a one emergency bottle a night policy.” Alicia groans and flops back onto the couch. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in Lee’s mind, making his eyes grow wide and a little smile dance on his lips. “However,” he wiggles his brows and surveys the group. “Now that we’ve got an empty bottle, I think we all know where we can take this party...”

Looking up from her cup, Katie says, “Where are we taking the party? Are we going to bed?” she asks with sadness in her voice. “But the night is so young!”

Shaking his head, Lee looks at Katie. “Are you daft, Bell?” he asks as she rolls her eyes, sipping her whiskey. “I meant we could play a cheeky game of spin the bottle,” Lee suggests.

Alicia huffs, “Really, Jordan? What are we? Fourth years?”

“Oh, come on, Spinnet, it’s just to add a little spice to the mix,” Lee shimmies his shoulders making you laugh. “Besides, it gives you an excuse to have the privilege of planting a sloppy one on me.”

Alicia fake gags. “I’d rather spend a whole day with Professor Snape,” she spits as Lee laughs.

George speaks up now, “Angie and I will sit this one out, but we will watch the show.” He pulls Angie impossibly closer to him as she cuddles into his chest. “For obvious reasons,” he smirks. Fred boos his brother and throws his now empty cup of fire whiskey at him. “What? I am not kissing someone other than my literal soulmate,” he rationalizes. “Besides, you’ve got five players. That’s enough. That is, if everyone is comfortable playing.”

The group all looks at each other, gaging everyone’s feelings of playing a cheeky game. You had to admit you’d rather not play a game as childish as spin the bottle, but for a weird reason, you were keen on playing at least one round. As you looked around, it seemed like everyone was on board to play.

Your eyes meet Fred’s for a moment as he looks at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips for a split second, hoping you wouldn’t catch him. You quickly turn away, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks. “I don’t see the harm in one game,” you shrug as you see Fred smile from the corner of your eye. Lee claps his hands cheering as Alicia and Katie agree.

Fred speaks up, “Well, I can’t let Lee be the only bloke having all the fun, now can I?”

Everyone is on board with the game as Lee cheers, “Alright! Five for five!” He places the empty bottle of fire whiskey on its side in order to spin it. “Everyone knows the rules. You spin and kiss whomever it lands on, no matter who it is. I’m looking at you, Weasley. If you land on me, I expect the best snog of my life,” he teases as you all laugh wildly. “Whomever the bottle lands on gets the next spin. All good?” Everyone nods. Lee smiles, “Groovy. Welp, youngest goes first. Bell, you’re up.”

Katie giggles, “Put on your chapstick, you lucky sons of bitches.” Alicia laughs as Katie reaches and spins the bottle. The bottle does a series of spins, turning clockwise as she anticipates who she’ll be planting a kiss on. She nervously dances back and forth as you watch her with a small smile on your face.

Slowly the bottle stops spinning to land gently on Fred. Your heart stops for a second and your mouth runs dry. You blink a few times and swallow hard. The group all claps their hands and laughs as Katie rolls her eyes. You on the other couldn’t help but have a tight feeling in your chest. You force a smile on your face before you look at Angelina quickly. She raises her brows, monitoring your reaction as you just shake your head, letting her know you were fine.

Katie scoots over to Fred as Fred leans down. “Get ready for your mind to be blown,” Fred jokes as Katie slaps his arm.

You watch very intently as Fred ducks his head down to connect his lips with Katie. You stop breathing for a moment as you watch Fred kiss one of your closest friends. Your palms start sweating and you pull yourself away from looking at them kiss. Lee and Alicia oooh and giggle as you look at Angie, eyes screaming at her, Okay maybe I’m not fine.

She gives you a nervous smile and mouths, “It’s just a silly game.”

You nod your head and shake it off. It was a silly game. That’s all. A stupid, silly, childish game. It meant nothing. You knew Katie didn’t like Fred like that. She had fancied Adrian Pucey for a few months now. This kiss meant literally nothing.

It felt like the kiss had lasted for hours when it was a brief five seconds. Katie pulls away from the kiss and returns to her position on the floor. Fred just smirks and leans back in his seat, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip. You watch as he does so, the small gesture being surprisingly attractive to you as you gulp. But you quickly turn around so Fred doesn’t catch you watching.

Katie laughs, “Eh, you’re nothing to ride home about, Freddie. Hate to break it to you.”

Fred shrugs, “It’s alright, Bell. The first stage of grieving is denial. You’ll eventually accept that that kiss was the best one of your life.”

Lee cackles as Fred joins him in his laugher before leaning over and spinning the bottle for himself. The bottle spins round and round and round as you watch it, the bottle hypnotizing you. You secretly wished that the bottle would land on you, wanting to be able to kiss Fred Weasley and getting the confirmation that you didn’t like Fred in that way. But honestly, you just hoped it was anyone but Katie or Alicia.

The bottle slowly stopped spinning as it gently landed on Lee, making the group erupt in laughter. Lee’s lips drew up in a devilish smile as he rubbed his hands together, “Here I come, big boy!” he exclaims, making you laugh even harder.

Fred laughs and sits up in his seat. “Give it to me, Jordan,” he challenges.

Lee springs to his feet and grabs Fred’s face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together before smashing his lips on Fred’s. Fred is laughing as Lee kisses him roughly, rocking him back and forth. George is absolutely dying of laughter, falling into his chair as the rest of the group squeals.

Alicia grabs onto your arms, squeezing you as she laughs, you doing the same. The kiss happens for a while as you cackle, “Good Godric, come up for some air why don’t you?”

With a smack, Lee pulls off of Fred as Fred falls back in his seat. Fred’s eyes are wide as Lee wipes his lips. “And that,” Lee points to Fred, “is how you kiss someone. Not that pathetic thing you gave Katie.”

The group comes down from laughing at Lee spins the bottle for himself. The cycle repeats for a while. Lee kisses Alicia, Alicia kisses you, you kiss Katie, Katie kisses Lee, and then the bottle spins again. Lee spins and the bottle gently lands on you as you giggle. “I’m expecting excellence, Lee Jordan,” you eye him as he laughs. “Not going to lie, Alicia might give you a run for your money.”

Lee rolls his eyes, “In her dreams.”

You giggle before the two of you close the gap between you two, kissing each other. The kiss is honestly not bad. Lee’s lips tasted of the fire whiskey along with vanilla and sugar. The kiss was gentle, but not bad at all. Your friends around you all cheer and oooh at you two in typical fashion as you both smile into the kiss. You pull away and Lee sends you a wink. “The reviews are in,” you speak. “Not bad, Jordan. Not bad at all. Actually, pretty damned good!”

Lee pumps his arm. “Hah! Take that, Spinnet!”

“Alright, my turn to spin,” you giggle and excitedly spin the bottle.

The bottle spins and spins and spins as everyone waits in anxious anticipation. Who could it be? Slowly, the bottle stops spinning and lands on the person right next to you, Mr. Fred Weasley.

Your heart stops as your mouth goes dry. Everyone immediately erupts into cheers, specifically George who springs onto his feet. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one!” he cheers as you gulp.

Kissing Fred Weasley? Maybe this game was a mistake.

You stare at the bottle, and then to Angie who wears the biggest grin on her face, and then back at the bottle and finally to Fred. His eyes stare back at you as you gulp. A smirk dances on Fred’s lips as you suck in a breath. The whole group stares at the pair of you, silent, waiting for something to happen.

The tension between you and Fred was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Cat got your tongue, (Y/L/N)?” Fred teases you as he scoots a little closer to you. You suck in a shaky breath as he chuckles lowly.

You snap yourself out of this anxious gaze and speak, confidence now coursing through your veins. You were going to kiss your best friend and it was happening now. “Make your move, Weasley,” you challenge with flirtation laced in your voice.

Fred smiles, “No need to tell me twice,” he lowly whispers.

Immediately, Fred cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. Your lips connect and the whole group loudly cheers and screams. You hear Lee scream, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”

But you couldn’t care what was happening. You were kissing Fred. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Fred’s lips were soft, but demanding as they pressed firmly onto yours. His lips tasted of sweet cinnamon and spice; his lips were like a personal drug that you couldn’t get enough of. You pressed your lips harder against his as you both sucked in a breath, your hand resting on his forearm. His lips moved gently against yours as you both enjoyed this kiss too much for a friendly game of spin the bottle.

You opened up your mouth enough for Fred to slide his tongue in, massaging his with yours as you moan just loudly enough for Fred to hear, making him smile into your kiss. As the group watched you two softly snog, they only cheer louder. You were too involved in relishing in the way Fred’s lips felt pressed against yours to care about how your friends were reacting.

The kiss was everything you wanted a first kiss with someone to be. It was gentle, but didn’t lack in passionate or desire. His lips moved in sync with yours as you followed his lead, his tongue dancing with yours. It was exactly how you imagined kissing Fred Weasley.

You are pulled from your thoughts when George cries out, “For Merlin’s sake Freddie, don’t eat the poor girl!”

Gently, you break the kiss as Fred’s lips follow yours for a moment, not wanting the kiss to end just yet. The two of you keep your eyes closed, relishing in the moment that you two shared.

Lee laughs, “Is it just me or is it hot in here?”

You giggle and gently pry your eyes open. But that’s when you gasp.

You look at Fred who sits in front of you in full color. His bright red hair contrasting against the light blue thermal shirt he wears. His brown eyes stare at you just as much in shock.

It happened.

“Merlin’s beard...” you whisper.

The room fall silent as your friends stare at the two of you in confusion, wondering what could have possibly happened that made the two of you stare at each other in shock.

“Is it...” you start.

“Yeah,” Fred answers. He lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

You let out a light laugh with him and slowly, look around the room taking in your surroundings, the whole common room in beautiful colors of maroon and gold. Color dances everywhere as you let out an amazed chuckle.

Looking at Angie with amazement, she suddenly realizes exactly what’s going on. A smile erupts on her face as she lets out a sigh. “Good Godric,” she breathes. She looks at George. “It happened.”

The entire group registers what is happening as they stare at the two of you in awe as you two take in your surroundings gentle. “Oh shit,” Lee breathes out with a smile. “That’s bloody brilliant...”

You look back at Fred who just wears a gentle smile on his face as you look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes that swim with amazement and adoration. You could look into those eyes forever. And lucky for you, that’s what you were going to do.

Breaking the silence, Angelina says, “We’ll leave you two to it then. Guys...”

Your friends all start to leave the common room, running up the stairs to the dormitories, definitely to chat about what just happened.

You are now left with Fred in the common room, sitting on the couch together, staring at each other in technicolor. “Hi, Freddie,” you breathe out with a smile.

Fred smiles, “Hi, (Y/N),” he reciprocates. The two of you just take the other one in for a few moments as you gulp. What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do? Merlin’s sake, this was supposed to be a cheeky game of spin the bottle and all of a sudden. “We’re soulmates,” Fred speaks plainly.

“I guess so,” you laugh. You gently bite your lip. “I never thought it would be you, Fred.”

He inhales a long breath. “I had a feeling,” Fred admits as you teasingly smack his arm. “I’m glad I was right,” he confesses as you blush. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. With and without color,” he tells you. “I didn’t think that you could get more gorgeous, but color has proved me wrong.”

You shake your head, “Freddie...” you trail off, blushing wildly, crimson appearing on your cheeks for the first time. Fred takes your hand in his and gently rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You give into his touch, nothing feeling more right. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Fred lifts your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re soulmates,” he repeats himself as you nod. “Wow...so, we get to spend forever with each other, huh? You’re going to get really tired of me, aren’t you?” he jokes as you laugh.

“I could never grow tired of you,” you confess, squeezing his hand. You run your hand through his red hair. The signature of the Weasleys that you could finally see now. “I do have to say though,” you start. “I was not expecting your hair to be this red.”

Fred laughs, “Get used to it, darling. You’ll be staring at it for the rest of your life. Not to mention, the Weasley genetics are strong. Sorry to say that if we decide to have kids, they’ll end up like this.”

You roll your eyes, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Freddie.” He smiles and sends you a wink. “So,” you breathe out. “What do we do now?”

He inhales deeply and sighs. “Well,” he starts. “I think we ought to tell people, specifically our parents,” he says as you nod. “But other than that, we do what we want.” You gaze into Fred’s eyes and smile. “(Y/N), we have the rest of our lives together. There’s no rush. We can go at our own pace. We don’t have to pay attention to what people say we should be doing. I’m just happy that we’ve found each other that way we can start forever now.”

Your heart fills with joy and adoration at his words. You had always worried that you wouldn’t love soulmate, nevertheless like them, but loving Fred Weasley was going to be the easiest task of your life. Living your forever in color together.

“Sounds good to me, Weasley,” you smile.

Fred leans in and closes the gap between you two, kissing you again sweetly like he had done minutes ago for the first time. His lips are even gentler than before on yours as you smile into the kiss. Fred pull away and smiles, “Reckon we go upstairs and get the teasing out of the way from the lot?”

You take a moment. “Let’s wait a little while. We have forever for them to tease us. We’ll only have this moment for a short time.”

He shakes his head. “Merlin, you’re perfect.”

And there the two of you laid in each other’s arms, taking in the new colorful world before you, souls now connected forever. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred wealsley x gryffindor! reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years ago

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Hi Minty Darling, I absolutely adore your work.

Can I please request a readerxtech fic?

I’ve been obsessed with the idea of the reader being a bartender at Cids. Somehow they get hurt maybe trying to breakup a fight and tech (being the team medic) jumps in to patch you up. Reader say something like “thanks but I don’t think I’m worth all this trouble, it’s just a scratch”

Cut to a very tech like info dump/confession because “it’s only logical that I would take care of those important to me” “I’m important to you?” “Of course”

Ahhh just tech being soft and nervous has my heart!! I know you’ll do this very clunky description justice.

Thank you 😘

And I adore you Anon, I will GLADY write more Tech because the man maketh me insane! This is such a sweet concept and I love it!!

Warning: wounds, blood, stitching, mentions of the adult juice, also checking out the hot nerd. Sorry gang.

You grimaced, letting a gentle hiss escape your teeth as you poured the alcohol on your arm. “Kriff,” You managed, whole arm tensing up. The liquid burned over the crack in your skin, red and purple seeping through the skin. You had spent some time pulling glass out of your skin- you were lucky the man with the broken bottle only got your arm.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

A coarse laugh found its way out of your mouth as you drew the bottle back. “Thanks for the commentary.” You didn’t even glance at the bespectacled clone, setting the glass bottle down with a clink on the bar. “I guess you’re just an expert, now?”

“Define expert.” Tech walked around the bar, taking the bottle. He picked up the nearby rag, still pinkened with your blood that you had tried to clean up. “I am not necessarily an expert, but I am the team medic, so I would consider myself proficent in most wounds and patching them up.”

You watched him pick up the bottle, tilt his head back and take a swig. His throat bobbed as he drank, jaw rotating as he swallowed. Tech pulled the amber liquid away, and you noticed his eyes were the same color as the whiskey. “You know,” you leaned back on the bar as Tech wrung the rag over the sink, pouring whiskey onto it. “You really don’t have to go to this trouble.”

“What trouble, my dear?” Tech took your arm, turning it and examining the wound.

“This, I can clean myself up.” You tried to let the darling roll off your shoulders. All the guys had little pet names for you, but Tech’s words, simply how they rolled off his lips, how his brows perked up when he annunciated them- it relaxed you at the moment. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

“You are, though.” Tech chuckled. “This will sting, darling-” His lips drew in a line, tight as he pressed the rag to your arm. You sucked in a breath, eyes still pressed on him as Tech’s hands, steady, wrapped the cloth around your wound. Your arm burned, the sensation eating at your nerves. “Good girl.”

Your face burst in heat and you coughed, glancing away as he removed the rag, grabbing the bandages he had resting on the counter. “You think I’m worth the trouble?”

His steady hands hesitated only long enough for you to catch it. “Of course.” He cleared his throat, taking your arm tenderly. “You mix our drinks, after all. Better than just about anyone else I know.” Tech smiled quietly, thinking something that was brilliant behind those eyes, like he always did. “You make coming back here good.”

“Oh,” You breathed. “I... thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled. The silence was bumpy, shockingly loud, only interrupted by your intermittent hissing.

“You know, I think I wouldn’t mind doing... stuff more. With you.” You mumbled. “Not medical stuff. Or patching up wounds.”

“Maybe we could grab a drink-” Tech hesitated. “Although that wouldn’t be- you’re a bartender.”

You laughed, deeply, glancing away to hide your blush, hoping the bar had been dim enough to cover your face. “No, no. I wouldn’t mind.” You chewed on your lip, stepping away and grabbing a couple of glasses with your good arm. “I’ll mix one up right now.”

“Excellent.” The clone leaned back on the bar, watching you with hawk eyes as you grabbed some of the bottles. He watched you pour, mix, stir. You set down the glass and slid it on the bar towards him, holding up your own cup.

“Drink up,” You said, softly, shaking your cup. The ice clinked against the edge, and tech softly tapped his glass against yours. “To non-medical stuff.”

Tech chuckled, a warm and light sound that would have tasted better on your lips than the alcohol. “To non-medical stuff.”

#tech x reader #tech x you #bad batch tech x reader #bad batch tech x you #tech #minty writes #bad batch reader insert #bad batch imagine

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racewinnerlandonorris · 2 years ago

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what are some of your top country songs please?

OMG THIS IS MY FAVOURITE ASK EVER!!!! ANON YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE!

IM GIVING YOU CATEGORIES OK: (bold are absolute faves!!)

UPBEAT VIBES:

you time - scotty mccreery

wilder days - morgan wade

whatcha think of country now - morgan wallen

pickup - mackenzie porter

this - darius rucker

lovin on you - luke combs

it all comes out in the wash - miranda lambert

i hope you’re happy now - carly pearce

livin the dream - morgan wallen

to be loved by you - parker mccollum

my bar - priscilla block

make out with me - maren morris

still goin down - morgan wallen

not yet - brett young

when it rains it pours - luke combs

got my name changed back - pistol annies

hard to forget - sam hunt

waste of lime - ingrid andress

she broke my heart - noah schnacky

talk about - seaforth

i hope - gabby barrett

in love by now - riley green

dicked down in dallas - trey lewis

SLOW JAMS/HEARTBREAK:

waiter - scotty mccreery (this will make you cry)

fall in love - bailey zimmerman

heart like a truck - laine wilson

you didn’t - brett young

hold me back - parker mccollum

tim mcgraw - taylor swift

whiskey - jana kramer

forever after all - luke combs

already ready - dan + shay

sand in my boots - morgan wallen

giving you up - kameron marlowe

settling down - miranda lambert

damn straight - scotty mccreery

865 - morgan wallen

grew apart - logan mize

what could have been - gone west

die from a broken heart - maddie & tae

more hearts than mine - ingrid andress

ain’t always the cowboy - jon pardi

pretty heart - parker mccollum

hello you up - sean stemaly

tomorrow me - luke combs

i hate alabama - conner smith

OLD SCHOOL:

wagon wheel - darius rucker

your man - josh turner

islands in the stream - dolly parton and kenny chesney

all over the road - easton corbin

all summer long - kid rock

rumour - lee brice

you’re still the one - shania twain

before he cheats - carrie underwood

somewhere with you - kenny chesney

why’d you come in here lookin like that - dolly parton

also just all of luke combs, morgan wallen and scotty mccreery discographies and also nashville soundtrack and if you haven’t watched the show i highly recommend it so many talented singers and great songs!!!

#also if you use apple music i have like 20 country playlists i can give you my account info off anon #country songs rec #ask #anon

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slytherinwh0re · 4 years ago

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I’m yours

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), this is kinda fluffy, swearing (I literally always cuss, it’s just a given at this point lol)

Summary: Where you go to the Malfoy’s for a party and you and Draco’s relationship finally takes the turn you both wanted.

Masterlist

Requested by anon, lmk if you like it (:

“You look beautiful (y/n), Draco’s inside waiting for you.” Narcissa says as she pulls away from the quick hug, greeting your parents in the same friendly fashion.

You walk through the large manor quickly, trying to find the familiar head of platinum hair that belonged to your best friend. However your search kept getting interrupted, many of your parents friends stopping you for boring conversations and of course trying to marry you off to one of their sons, because nothing was more important than pure blood babies in their eyes. You were used to it though, that’s basically the point of having these extravagant parties, but you’d be damned if you’d be forced into a loveless marriage for the sake of blood purity.

“You’ll adore him darling, he’s quite the handsome boy.” Says the woman whose name you didn’t bother learning as she rambled on about her son, you merely nodded as you let your eyes rake over the sea of people, finally locking eyes with the boy you’ve been looking for. Draco had already been looking at you and the thought made you smile.

“Sorry ma’am I actually have something important to attend to right now.” You say, already walking away from the frowning lady. His eyes trail your figure and you mentally pat yourself on the back for picking out this dress, the black satin material fits you like a second layer of skin, the high slit showed off a long tan leg, and the off the shoulder sleeves displayed your collar bones nicely. You looked good and you knew it.

“Where have you been?” You question once you reach him, giving the blonde a quick kiss on the cheek like you usually do when you see him.

“Sorry love, I got stuck talking to Mrs. Parkinson, you know how she is.” Draco says pulling you in for a hug. “You look fucking amazing in that dress.” He whispers in your ear making you shiver. The effect he had on you was something you couldn’t get used to no matter how much time you spent with him.

“Thank you.” You blush. “You don’t look too bad yourself Draco.” He’s wearing one of his signature fitted all black suits that made you weak in the knees.

You’ve been best friends since you were children but as you grew older there was no denying that the relationship was changing. Both of you now matured knew that whatever this was it was a lot more than just friendship. Why you hadn’t acted on it yet, neither of you knew. Maybe it was because of the impending war or maybe just the fear of losing one another but neither of you could hide the obvious feelings you stored for each other.

“Come on, we’ll both need a drink to get through the rest of the night.” He led the way to the table full of various types of alcohol, pouring you each a shot of fire whiskey, your favorite.

“Another for good luck?” You ask right after throwing back the first one.

“You read my mind (y/l/n).” He winks while handing you your second shot. The effects of the alcohol and the handsome boy in front of you immediately make you feel more relaxed.

“Let’s dance!” You exclaim as you watch others gather in the center of the room with a partner, before he could even respond you’d already grabbed his hand and led him towards the dancing people.

You knew he didn’t really like dancing but he followed you without complaint because as he had told you once before, he’d rather scoop out his own eyeballs than to watch some foul git put their hands on you, you take full advantage of that information any chance you get. This was one of those situations, because damn did you love dancing, especially with Draco.

You grab his hands, swaying both of you to the fast rythm of the music. The smile on his face as he spins you around the other dancers makes your heart soar with so much affection for the blonde that you can’t stop the giggles from spilling out your mouth.

“You’ll be the death of me (y/n) (y/l/n).” He says as you stumble into his chest, dizzy from all the spinning.

When the tempo of the music changes into something slower, Draco grabs the small of your back and pulls you into him so you’re chest is pressed to his. You wrap your arms around his neck and he holds your waist as you sway to the music, the atmosphere changing drastically, neither of you paying attention to anything around you.

“Take me upstairs Draco.” You whisper in his ear. You feel him go rigid as he pulls back to look at you, both knowing this is point of no return. Draco’s eyes search yours for any trace of hesitation, once he finds none he’s taking your hand and leading you through the crowd of people towards the staircase.

You could hear the blood pumping through your veins as you stepped into his familiar bedroom. He walks you over to the foot of his bed and grabs your chin, tilting it up to look at you and then his lips are on yours. Every emotion you feel for him is poured into the kiss, his lips caressing yours so gently it almost doesn’t seem real.

“Do you want this (y/n)?” He questions pulling away from the sweet kiss.

“I’m yours Draco.” Is all you have to say before he’s kissing you again, this time more urgently. He pulls away and turns you around so your back is to his chest and you face the mirror in front of his bed.

He grabs your hair and pushes it to the side as he litters kisses on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He had one hand flat on your stomach pushing you against him and the other running down the side of your body over the tight dress, your head was thrown back, loving the way his hands feel on you.

He pulls back, looking at you through the mirror, moving the hand on your stomach to the zipper on the back of your dress. “Go ahead Draco.” You encourage as he looks at you for approval. He kisses the back of your neck before slowly unzipping the fabric, watching as the satin material falls silently at your feet, leaving your chest bare for him to see, the only thing covering you is the lacy underwear on your hips as you step out the dress.

“So beautiful.” He whispers as he moves both hands to massage your breasts, never looking away from your body in the mirror, making small moans leave your mouth. He has on far too much clothes so you turn to face him, pulling off his suit jacket and then his tie, tossing them carelessly, and then unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly, leaving a kiss on his chest every time more of his pale skin is revealed to you.

The handsome boy watches your every move as you look up at him while you undo his belt and trousers. Once his pants fall to the ground he kicks them off along with his shoes, bringing you back to him for a needy kiss, your naked chests pressed together.

“Jump.” You do as you’re told, wrapping your legs around his waist, his hands on your ass as he carries you towards the big bed and lays you down on the edge. His lips kiss down your body towards your soaked panties, kneeling in front of you and pulling away to unclasp the heels on your feet.

Draco hooks his finger around your underwear and you lift your hips so he can slide them off, the cold air on your pussy makes you shiver. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch what he’s about to do to you, a smirk rests on his lips seeing the state you’re in.

“You’re already dripping love.” He teases as he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“Please just touch me already Draco.” You beg, making him dive right in. His tongue flat against your soaked center, devouring you in every sense of the word. Your hands find his hair tugging on it making him moan against you which in turn makes you scream out his name.

His lips wrap around your clit making your hips buck and you can practically feel the smirk on his lips as you throw your head back, filthy moans spilling from your mouth. Your grip on his hair tightening as he pushes a long finger into your entrance, curling it with every thrust.

“Draco.” You breathe out, not able to form any coherent thoughts as he completely ravishes you. Desperate whines leave your lips as you feel yourself about to release and that’s when he pulls away from you completely.

“When you cum, it’s gonna be around my dick.” He states as he tear off his boxers, watching you shuffle to the center of his bed. His dick slaps him on the stomach and you rub your legs together seeing the precum already leaking out his tip.

“Show me what I’ve been missing out on.” You say, making him smile as he moves to kneel in front of you on the bed, your legs once again wrap around his waist and his dick presses against your slick folds.

He guides himself to your entrance and with a final nod of approval he’s pushing into you. Both moaning as he moves his hips at a steady pace, your soaked walls clenching around him tightly.

Draco’s hands move up the sides of your body, making sure not an inch of skin goes untouched. He lower himself so he can kiss along your neck, sucking on spots that make you moan his name, surely leaving marks that will remind you of this night for the next few days.

Your nails scratch down his back making him groan as he thrusts into you faster. Suddenly he’s pulling out of you and flipping you over so your laying on your stomach. He lifts you hips so you’re on your knees and you arch your back, pushing yourself back on to him desperately.

“You take me so well my love, I always knew you would.” He says as he slams into you repeatedly, completely wrecking your body in the best way possible.

“Oh Draco.” The moans that leave your mouth are relentless once he hits that spot that makes your toes curl and your head feel fuzzy from the pleasure you’re receiving. When his hand wraps around your throat and pulls you up so your back is against his chest you know it was the beginning to the end.

“Who do you belong to (y/n)?” He asks while continuously driving into you.

“I’m yours Draco, I’m all yours.” You cry out as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles into you, making your head falls back onto his shoulder as his fingers tightens around your neck.

“Cum for me love.” Is all he says as you finally hit your high. Your walls clench around him and your vision goes white, the waves of pleasure wash over your body as you scream his name. Raspy moans fall from his lips as his release takes over his body, leaving both of you completely spent.

You fall back onto the bed and he lays next you so you’re facing each other. His hand caressing your cheek, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“Every man down there had their eyes on you all night.” He claims.

“I only have eyes for one man and if he keeps fucking me like that I’ll have to marry him.” You tease with a smile on your face, making him laugh.

“I’ve known I would marry you since we were 15 (y/n), I’ve always loved you.” He admits.

“And I love you Draco.”

#draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #malfoy #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco smut #draco x you #draco imagine #harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy masterlist #harry potter smut #hp smut

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 5 months ago

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open mic for you to ramble about “no one’s ever had me, not like you” and anything you think about it🎤

Ooooooh you are bringing the heat here!

So the first thing that jumps out at me on a serious note is how it ties directly to the TTPD epilogue and “He never even scratched the surface of me. None of them did.” Which is an absolutely heartbreaking line, to think that she’s gone her whole life without any partner every fully understanding her, or at least all parts of her, including someone (or ones) she very much thought she would spend the rest of her life with at one point.

“No one’s ever had me, not like you,” is such a stark contrast to that, and like so much of the song feels like a new beginning. Parts of “So High School” feels like a bit of a rebirth, or a reconnection with a past self that never truly existed or flourished. I said this after TTPD came out, but the reclamation of her youth is such an interesting theme on her album, and “bittersweet sixteen suddenly” is one of the most endearingly poignant lines on the album because it’s so layered. It’s not just a play on the “sweet sixteen” high school lore, but it’s bittersweet for a number of reasons, one of which being that Taylor didn’t really have the full high school experience; when she started high school she already had a record deal and was working on her first album, and ended up leaving school for her tour. Her family sheltered her as a minor in the industry, but still, there are a lot of those “traditional” experiences she missed out on as she chased her career. So when she’s singing about feeling “so high school,” she’s kind of wistful for a time that never really existed. She’s reclaiming the experience for herself and in many ways experiencing some of this for the first time.

So along with all these new experiences, she’s also experiencing love in a way that is entirely new to her. And not just because it’s a new person, but because the experience of being understood and accepted in all forms of herself is brand new to her too. We’ve talked a lot in recent months about how light she seems now, and how it seems like she’s reconnected with parts of herself she maybe didn’t think were still there from her teenage days, and maybe part of of “no one’s ever had me like you” is that this person is connecting with the parts of her she thought had been buried back in those days, too.

And on a slightly less serious note, it’s also just very sweet and slightly sexy too lol. She’s fooling around in the backseat of his car! And on his couch sneakily while his friends are around! And she laughs at the memories! It’s all so innocent even in its naughtiness! She’s not worried about what people will think or about propriety or about what the other person is thinking or not thinking or about when the other shoe is going to drop! She’s just having fun!

She’s given all of herself to this person, and they’ve made her life lighter and lovelier in turn!

I’m gonna stop here but apparently I have feelings lol.

#pouring my heart out to anon but I didn’t pour the whiskey #so high school #the tortured poets department

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

Reap What You Sow:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Sight Mentions of Blood/Gore, Fluff.

Word Count: 3,273

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Y/N is accused of stealing a check from the company, resulting in her being fired. But only after a tense situation, does her boss and longtime crush Thomas find out the truth.

It was nearing midnight as Y/N walked through the shop, her heels clicking on the uneven wooden floors as Linda finished the nights paperwork, a nervous look on her face as she shuffled them away.

Y/N paid no mind as she sat down at her desk near Thomas’ office. Tapping her pen nervously as she glanced at her wristwatch. They were supposed to be here by now. All of the Shelby brothers were supposed to be shouting and running through the shops still high on their victory against one of the other gangs in town. They were supposed to be sighing in relief and pouring the boys drinks, but only silence ensued as Linda crept towards the company safe which she’d sneakily found the combination to while going through Y/N’s desk one night. With a quick movement, she unlocked the heavy door, yanking it open and rifling through the stack of blank checks and tearing off a slip.

“Are you alright Linda? Do you need help?” Y/N asked as she saw her walk quickly back to her seat.

“I’m fine, just had to move around the shop a bit. Nerves right?” She said while fiddling with the slip of paper hidden in her hand, out of sight from her curious coworker.

“Yeah, I understand. They should be back by now. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure Arthur will go straight to you when he arrives though.” She said with a small smile.

Linda nodded and quickly wrote the check out, shoving it in her purse before giving Y/N a small stack of papers.

“I’m going to run a letter to the mail, I’ll be back.” She said, walking out the door before Y/N could speak.

“Weird.” She mumbled to herself as she went back to going through the papers Linda handed her, all ones Thomas needed to sign-off on in the morning.

The cold air crept through Linda’s dress as she walked with her arms clutched around her to keep warm, the mailbox just in her sights as she remembered what she had to do.

“I’ll pay you if you keep quite about us alright love? It’ll only upset Arthur if he finds out. It could ruin our chances of being together if he’s not dealt with.” She’d said to her lover the night before Thomas’ plan went into effect. Tonight they were planning to take down a troublesome gang that strolled into town, but they were none the wiser to who she’d been fooling around with right under Arthur’s nose. The man was one of the gangs hit men, with the precise instruction from Linda to take Arthur out so she could run off with him instead.

The car nearby sent a shiver down Linda’s spine as she dropped the check into the mailbox, hoping it would all be over soon with no one suspecting her. She even used a blank check thinking no one could trace it, but little did she know just how well Shelby Company Limited kept their finances. As the car neared, she hoped Arthur wasn’t inside, meaning her plan had worked and her payment would be sent. But only time would tell.

With quick steps she went back into the shop, seeing Y/N walking out of Thomas’ office as she’d placed the remaining paperwork on his desk.

“Did ya find it okay? I thought you’d left for the night.” Y/N said.

“Everything is fine Y/N. Were you able to get those papers sorted?” She asked, changing the subject as the boys walked through door looking worse for wear.

“Yes.” Y/N answered quickly as she followed Linda’s wide-eyed gaze to the front door.

“Y/N go get the first aid kit. Now!” Thomas demanded as he sat Arthur down in a nearby chair, John helping unbutton his shirt as Finn grabbed the whiskey from Thomas’ office.

“Drink up brother this is going to hurt.” Finn said, holding the bottle to his lips as he chugged the brown liquid.

“My god what happened?” Y/N heard Linda ask as she gathered the first aid kit with shaking hands.

“Those fuckers shot me, one of the fellows almost shot me in the head damn near.” Arthur said through gritted teeth as Thomas looked at the gunshot wound to his abdomen.

“Here Tom.” Y/N said quickly, handing him the kit and crouching near Arthur to hold his hand that Linda was surprisingly not holding.

“It’ll be alright, deep breaths.” Y/N said squeezing his hand a bit to take his mind off Thomas extracting the bullet.

The room filled with Arthur’s shouts of agony as Thomas worked to dislodge it, his blood spurting out every so often from the movements of the tools.

“Linda are you alright?” John asked as he saw her face turn pale. He was holding Arthur back and helpless at the point.

“Yeah. Arthur? Love? It’s me. I want to stay but I’ll be no use on the floor. I’ll go home to be get things ready for you. Stay strong love.” She said quickly, her face sparkling with sweat as she fought back nausea from the sight of her almost ex-husbands blood. A panicked feeling shooting through her veins as she realized her plan was falling apart.

“Oh alright, just go!” He shouted drunkenly as he grew frustrated at the situation. His mind trying to piece together why he was targeted out of all of them as Thomas stopped the bleeding and stitched him up.

“I don’t know Tom, I don’t know why they aimed at me....why he aimed at me I don’t know....” He said, drifting off as he grew tired from the ordeal.

“It’s alright we’ll figure it out in the morning.” Thomas said, helping his brother up as John got the door and helped him into the car.

“Where’s John taking him?” Y/N asked, wiping her hands on her dress as she stared at the bloody mess on the floor.

“Home. He can rest there more than here. Thank you for looking after the shop with Linda.” He said, going to clean up the mess.

“It’s no problem Tommy. Here I can clean that...if you need a moment to rest.” She said, grabbing a cloth near her and dousing it in some of the whiskey.

Thomas stepped back as she wiped the rest of the blood away, her hair falling out of its loose bun as she ringed the last of the blood off the towel and into the small pail that contained the bullet.

“Are you hurt or anything?” She asked, her heart racing as she realized he’d been staring.

“Just a few scratches. Don’t worry about it love.” He said, lighting a cigarette and staring into her eyes. Y/N could feel her cheeks heating up as she looked back towards her desk, the old butterflies she’d had tucked away for the man resurfacing as of late.

“Well if everything’s done here, am I free to go?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” He said, walking towards his office as she gathered her things. His mind racing with why his brother was shot out of all of them. If anything he thought he would’ve been the first on their hit list.

“I’ve left the paperwork from today on your desk if you feel like signing them. Goodnight Tommy.” She said giving him a small smile.

“Thank you, good night love.” He said, his lips turning up slightly as he watched her walking out the door.

The next morning, Michael had came into his office urgently, with a stack of checks in his hand.

“One of them are missing Tom. Wasn’t me but it was recent. I can tell because we just wrote one today and the one before it is gone. See.” He said showing him the checkbook and where the sequence of numbers hadn’t lined up.

“Well who the fuck stole a company check then aye? Only three people know the code and that’s you, Polly, and Y/N.” He said, his heart aching at the thought of her doing something like that when he already paid her more than she’d expected.

“You want me to call a meeting?” Michael asked, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Yeah. Whoever did that probably knows about Arthur.” He said, his suspicion growing from last nights events.

“What’s wrong?” Polly asked as they all sat around the large table in the betting room.

“I have reasons to suspect someone has stolen a check from the company. Maybe used it to pay off someone perhaps.” He said, his eyes darting to everyone. Linda looked tired and Arthur sat near her with a pained expression.

“Would any one of you happen to know who it was? It was recent.” He said, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filling the room almost as heavily as the tension.

“It wasn’t Michael or I.” Polly said, shaking her head.

“Y/N...do you know anything about this?” Thomas asked, his eyes much more serious than last night. They were frightening in the way they bore into her soul despite her not knowing what was going on.

“No. I haven’t got a clue Tommy.” She said, holding his gaze as her heart raced.

“Linda...you were also here last night. Do you know?” He asked looking at her with the same calculating eyes.

“No. All I remember is I stepped out for a moment to send off one of your letters and to catch some air before you all arrived.” She said.

“And Y/N was the only one at the shop during that time?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said, her eyes squinting slightly at the poor woman who hadn’t done a thing wrong the whole time she’d been there.

“Look, Tommy I-“ Y/N started to say before he interrupted her in a harsh tone.

“I don’t know why you stole it, but somehow my brother was shot the same night and you were the last person I saw in the shop. You were also the only person there while Linda was away. I have no other choice but to fire you, Y/N. Get your things and go.” He said. Y/N’s face paled and her eyes brimmed with tears as she silently left the room. She averted her gaze from everyone, instead looking at the floor as she packed her things and went out the door, thinking she’d never return to the shop again.

She tried to defend herself somewhat, knowing she didn’t have anything to do with what happened. But none of her words would speak sense into him right now. He was too quick to make judgements, but she wasn’t prepared for him to hurt her like he just did. She felt her body trembling and growing warmer as she slammed her car door shut, the sheer embarrassment and anger rising in her as she made her way home.

As the day drug on, Thomas searched with Michael for the check, calling post offices and banks to see where it could have been sent and who had written it.

“It was picked up this morning Mr. Shelby. Doesn’t look like your handwriting though. I’ll have it sent to you. You caught it just in time.” The woman said, glancing at the writing on the envelope.

“Alright, thank you ma’am.” He said before hanging up.

“What’d they say aye?” Arthur asked, wincing as he moved about in his chair.

“They’re sending it back. It was almost sent out so we caught it just in time. She mentioned it wasn’t my handwriting.” He said, lighting a cigarette.

“Christ. What’d Linda say aye? Did her letter get sent out? She said it was for a charity.” Arthur asked, remembering she mentioned a letter.

“I’ve never written one to any charities, not recently.” Thomas said as his eyes narrowed.

“What...do you think...Linda stole the check?” Arthur asked quietly, knowing she was right around the corner.

“It’s possible. I know she’s your wife and all but she hasn’t exactly been helpful around here lately. Also it’s not adding up.” He said, his mind racing as he thought about the meeting.

“Christ....so you think she wrote the letter and the check then? They would’ve found the letter.” Arthur said.

“Aye, I think the letter was a ruse. The woman from the post office never found a letter from us. Just the check.” He said.

“Well let’s fookin’ ask her then. I can’t sleep at night knowing me wife’s trying to kill me.” Arthur said, a bit of panic in his voice as he realized she may have put a hit on him.

Over the next hour Thomas and him discussed the possibility of it being her, or it being Y/N. But now all signs were pointing to the short-haired blonde woman who not only had a knack for stealing hearts, but for stealing checks as well as, the mailman handed Thomas the envelope that had cursive handwriting on it. Inside contained a check and a terribly forged signature, along with her distinctive handwriting. Thomas couldn’t help but look out into the evening sky as he realized he’d made the wrong decision once again.

Linda heard her name being called as Thomas stood out his office door after retrieving the mail, the tension in the air seeming to rise as she reluctantly made her way to him.

“I have something to discuss with you and Arthur.” He said, ushering her into his office.

He locked the door behind her and stood in front of it as Linda sat by her husband. His tone more hostile than it had been at the family meeting earlier.

“So Linda...I’ll ask this once again. Did you steal the check?”

Linda looked around the room nervously as Arthur carefully got up and moved towards the door, officially wary of the woman.

Seeing as she had no way out, she sighed. Kissing the dream of running off with her lover goodbye as she knew how this interrogation could go.

“Y-yes I stole the combination from Y/N and snuck in the safe. The check was...to a man.” She said.

“Well it wasn’t to me. Who the fuck was it made out to?” Arthur asked, clinching his fists.

Linda stared at him blankly as a tear fell down her cheek.

“A man named Isaac. He was in-in that gang. I....I’ve been seeing him.” She said, wiping the tears from her eyes as he stalked forward.

“You fookin’ what?.... No...You don’t just put a hit out on a Shelby. Especially not on your own fucking husband.” He said angrily as Thomas put a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I did though, Arthur. I wanted to run off with him. I wanted you gone so it would be easier for me to leave. But I can’t do that now.” She said.

“So you knew I’d be walking into a death trap aye? You could’ve gotten more than me killed.” He spat, leaning against the door.

Linda nodded as she tore her gaze from the man she once thought she loved, guilt and anger taking over as she stood up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Thomas said, watching her reach for the gun on his desk.

“I just want to leave this place.” She said looking at the gun in her hand as she raised it at Thomas.

“If you shoot us, it’ll make it harder to leave. Put the gun down.” He said sternly.

With a sigh, she lowered the gun and placed it on the table. Wiping her tears away with shaking hands as she walked to the door and stared at Arthur angrily. His hurt expression at her confession barely phasing her.

“Arthur...” She said, trying to grab his hand from the doorknob. With a quick movement he gripped her wrist tightly before speaking.

“Fuck you Linda. I’m glad you failed.” He said with a slightly evil smirk.

“What do you mean? He got the check.” She said, not noticing the post had sent it back.

“We got the check and saw it was in your handwriting...we also killed him after he shot me. He won’t need you where he’s going. On the bright side...now you can suffer alone.” He said, as Linda looked angrily at him. Tears streaming down her face silently as he let go of her wrist.

“Linda.” Thomas said, causing her to rip her gaze from her now ex-husband.

“You should get your things together. You’re fired.” He said.

“You can’t do that! What will I do about money? The house?” She asked.

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to hire someone to kill my brother. Now go.” He said lighting a cigarette and pointing her out the door.

With one last glance, she ran out of the office. The commotion of her gathering all her things making the rest of the company look around nervously as she did a walk of shame out the door with her stuff. Shoving it all in her car and vowing to never come back.

As the company got back to work for the evening, Thomas quickly ran out too, barely uttering a goodbye to Polly before leaving.

“Where are you going at this hour?” She asked, looking up from her papers.

“I made a mistake Pol.” He said.

“I’m not surprised.” She said.

“Excuse me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“At least get the balls to tell her you’re sorry and that ya like her. Maybe bring her some flowers. We could all see it you know.” She said as he rubbed the back of his neck impatiently.

“Anything else to add Pol?” He asked.

“Don’t fire her again. She’s the one good thing that’s happened to this goddamned company.” She said as he nodded and went towards her flat.

When he arrived with flowers in hand, he didn’t expect to see her in such a state. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying. And her hair was unkept as she held a bottle of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Why the fuck are you here aye?” She asked, slightly slurring her words.

“It was Linda....Y/N. All along it was her. She didn’t mail a letter, she mailed a check. And that check almost got Arthur killed. I’m uh...sorry for all I did back there.” He said.

“What...did you bring me flowers to cheer me up? Fuck off.” She said before trying to shut the door.

“Wait.” He said, holding his free hand out to hold the door.

“I came here for three reasons alright?” He said.

“Well get to talking because it’s cold.” She said, throwing her cigarette over the steps into the damp ground.

“Alright...I wanted to apologize because I know what I did and you didn’t deserve that. And I wanted to offer you your job back.” He said.

“What’s the third aye? I may be tipsy but I can still count.” She said.

“That I like you. I know I’ve been a real bastard recently but I swear I do.” He said.

“What do you say aye?” He asked, holding the flowers out to her.

“Next time buy me roses. And...I’ll accept your offer, but it’s only because I like you too. Now are we going to stand around here all night or are you coming in?” She asked with a slight smirk.

He smiled for what seemed like the first time in forever, taking his cap off as she grabbed the flowers from him. Leading him inside where they would later spend the rest of the night and many other nights to come.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added/removed just send me an ask/message! :)

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x female!reader #katiesanons

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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a Spencer x reader with the song Fireside by Arctic Monkeys? I really, really like your writing.

Thank you Anon, I love this song so this was a fun one!

Send me a song lyric and a CM pairing and I’ll write you a blurb

I can't explain but I want to try

There's this image of you and I

And it goes dancing by in the morning and in the night time

It was strange how the simplest things could trigger such a reaction within us.

Spencer had returned to Vegas plenty of times over the years and he’d never once thought of you. Well maybe not never but not usually.

But this case had taken him to his old neighborhood, forcing him to revisit the places the two of you had frequented together.

It pulled up memories he had tried to shove deep down a long time ago. He’d stuffed them down into a little box and hid them in the back of his mind.

They weren’t supposed to resurface like this.

There's all these secrets that I can't keep

Like in my heart there's that hotel suite and you lived there so long

It's kinda strange now you're gone

Since coming back from Vegas you’d been the only thing on his mind. It had been fifteen years, but suddenly it felt like yesterday.

It had been an amicable break up. He was moving to DC for his job with the FBI and you were staying in Vegas for your teaching job.

You’d loved each other, you’d been each other’s first loves. But it made sense to end things and you’d remained friends.

You’d stayed in touch for a time but then life had gotten in the way. It had to have been at least team years since the last time you even spoke.

He didn’t think he still missed you. But why could he suddenly not get you out of his head?

He didn’t know if he could keep this to himself. He had an overwhelming desire to find you.

I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found

Has it gone for good?

Or is it coming back around?

Isn't it hard to make up your mind?

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside

Garcia found you with ease and by some stroke of luck you were living in DC. What were the chances?

But now the question was, should he track you down? It had been so many years it didn’t seem fair to drag all those feelings back up for you.

He was sure you must have moved on like he thought he had.

But what if there was a chance for the two of you again? You’d broken up before because you didn’t want to try long distance. But now you lived in the same city. Surely that was fate?

Was it worth fighting for again? Sure you’d loved each other but your relationship wasn’t without flaws. Maybe the distance was only the tip of the iceberg.

If he’d stayed maybe it wouldn’t have lasted anyway. Maybe those issues would have grown larger, pushing the two of you apart anyway.

Was it really worth dragging everything back up again?

There's all those places we used to go

And I suspect you already know

But that place on memory lane you liked still looks the same

But something about it's changed

The places you used to go together were still the same as he’d remembered but that didn’t mean he was still the same.

And it didn’t mean you were still the same either.

But Spencer wouldn’t be able to shake you from his mind unless he saw you again. He needed to know one way or another.

I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found

Has it gone for good?

Or is it coming back around?

Isn't it hard to make up your mind?

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside

You’d been surprised to say the least when he’d called. It was a blast from the past to say the least.

You’d agreed to meet him for coffee. You couldn’t deny seeing him again was like a breath of fresh air.

You’d forgotten quite how handsome he was, and he’d only gotten better with age. His eyes still had the same warmth to them and his smile still held so much awkward charm.

He had been vague at first and claimed he just wanted to catch up. He didn’t want to scare you off by telling you he’d started to dredge up long buried feelings for you.

He wasn’t even sure if he was going to say anything at all. It seemed too much. You’d had your chance long ago. It was foolish for him to think you stood another chance.

Wasn’t it?

And I thought I was yours forever

Maybe I was mistaken but I just cannot manage to make it through the day

Without thinking of you lately

“It was really nice to catch up Spence.” You smiled at him as the two of you left the coffee house. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.” He croaked, knowing that wouldn’t be an option for him.

He was still very much in love with you, that much was clear to him now. You were the one for him, it had taken him fifteen years to realise it but he knew now. And he knew he couldn’t just be friends with you.

“Are you ok?” You narrowed your eyes on him, sensing something was troubling him. You always could read him so well.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sighed.

“Spence, you can tell me if somethings bothering you.”

“It’s not that something is bothering me necessarily.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s just that...I’m...well I’m kind of just realising that I’m kinda sorta...still in love with you. So it’s probably best I just-“

“What?” You cut him off. “Are you...seriously?”

“I...yeah.” He chewed his lip. Why did he say that?

“You’re here after fifteen years telling me after one coffee that you’re still in love with me?”

“It would appear that way yes.” God it sounded so dumb when you said it. “I’m just going to go ok? We can forget this whole thing. Pretend I never called.” He turned his back on you and started down the street, his tail between his legs.

I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found

Has it gone for good?

Or is it coming back around?

Isn't it hard to make up your mind?

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside

Could he have been any stupider?

He was still berating himself when he let himself into his apartment later on that day.

What had he been thinking? It was a foolish idea to even contact you, let alone spill his guts to you like that.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Spencer.

He cursed himself. He cursed the case that took him back to his old neighborhood.

He was never going to forget the look on your face when he’d told you he was still in love with you.

He went through to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He brought the glass to his lips and as he went to take his first sip there was a knock at the door.

He sighed heavily, putting the glass down and slumping to the door.

He threw it open, the last set of eyes he expected to see were looking back at him.

“You didn’t even let me respond properly.” You huffed.

“You said enough. I feel stupid as is it Y/N.”

“You didn’t let me say…” you chewed your lip. “I’m kinda sorta still in love with you too.”

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

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delaber · 4 years ago

Text

Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86 for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster. Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu @diggsbeatriz (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-)

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #battle of the bay boys #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys #they gon fight #sorry rafa #sorry diggs #sorry reader

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