#second chorus he jumps on the table

[orpheus-has-lyreizz]

might never finish this but. wip

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[tender-rosiey]

“KEEP THE PRIEST! WEDDING NO.2 STARTS!”

— gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto & toji when you catch the bouquet at a wedding (f!reader)

a/n: if you don't have a cousin then now you do and thanks for being patient with me everyone! <3

GOJO SATORU:

 a family member of yours was finally getting married—something you never thought would happen since she was always complaining about all her boyfriends, but hey at least someone finally did it.

anyway, naturally, you took your dear boyfriend as your date.

the wedding was going smoothly, drinks were exchanged, food was distributed, and cakes were eaten—much to your lover’s delight.

another thing that kept happening is people trying to introduce their daughters to satoru.

his instant response was to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you close to him, kissing your cheek and chirping a “sorry, but I am happily taken!”

now it was time for the part that a lot of people wait for: the bouquet throw.

your cousin was already crazy, so she has been waiting for it so she can throw the bouquet with all her might. on the other hand ,you and the other ladies were lined up and patiently waited.

one swing, two swings, one faint throw, and finally the bouquet was thrown into the air, heading towards its next owner.

a chorus of ‘its mine! mine!’ filled the room, but relentless, you maneuvered your way into finally catching the bouquet in your hands.

you’ve won the battle.

but wait. it seems like there is a contestant that won’t back down.

“let go of that bouquet, young lady!”

you look behind you and gasps, it is—“satoru?!”

“yes, satoru!” your boyfriend huffs, making his way towards you.

he firmly takes a stance in front of you, contrasting his intimidating position with his infamous pout, “it’s not fair for you to take the bouquet!”

you sway your hip to the side sassily, “does it make a difference? we’re getting married either way!”

your boyfriend shakes his head, “no, babe!” he places his hands on his chest, pushing his theatrics till the top, “I need to be the star!”

he crumbles to the floor and you merely stare at him in silence.

you see your cousin approach you and your boyfriend, “first of all, I am the star, and second, if you don’t stop fighting, I am taking the bouquet back.”

your boyfriend gasps clinging to your legs, “babe, your cousin is super mean!”

you pat his head with a sigh and he happily presses a kiss to your thigh. what a taxing man to be with.

“sweets, I wanna pee.”

taxing child.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your boyfriend was—surprisingly—invited to a friend’s wedding, which he hated as he was planning on taking you to a stargazing sight because you’ve been talking about it ever since you saw it multiple times on tiktok.

so, here you are with your boyfriend put into a suit by force.

you’re pretty sure that he is going to rip it any moment, but you would rather he does that when you’re both alone: you don’t necessarily mind a show.

anyway, you are sat with your dear lover who hasn’t stopped frowning since you’ve entered the darn hall.

the only good social thing he has done so far is greeting the groom and the bride. other than that, his hand never left yours and he stuck by you.

it’s cute, though, even if he argues that he is anything but.

you hear them announce that they’re finally throwing the bouquet so you give sukuna a quick peck then run to reserve your space.

now, you get very competitive in certain things, and this is certainly one of them. you will be going home with that bouquet.

and true to your goal, the moment the bouquet is at a height you can reach, you jump at it, holding on for dear life.

your feet reach the ground once again, and you raise your hand in victory, “I did it!”

you don’t see sukuna rolling his eyes fondly and with a proud grin that screams ‘that’s my girl’.

after a bit of applause, you quickly turn to your boyfriend and walk towards his table, radiating with confidence.

you place the bouquet on the table then you lean on your elbows, “I caught the bouquet,” you wink, “what do you think?”

“of course, you would get it,” he hums, “you’re mine, and I don’t settle for less than the best.”

you roll your eyes and lean towards him, swirling the drink that you stole from him, “it’s quite the commitment that we’re getting into,” you then look and lock eyes with him, “think you can handle that?”

“there’s nothing I can’t handle, loser.”

you giggle before cooing, “aww, you love me so much,” he gently shoves you, before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you back towards him.

“I tolerate you.”

“so love!”

“no.”

NANAMI KENTO:

jingling bells, clicking heels, steaming food, and loving couples including you and your dear boyfriend fill today’s wedding hall.

a mutual friend of yours and nanami finally tied the knot with their lover, and you were happily invited.

it was a never ending party of laughter and happy tears—that you efficiently hid by burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest.

things calmed down a bit, leaving you to fangirl about how cute your friend is to nanami.

“but kento, she looked so cute! she is so pretty! he better not hurt her!”

nanami keeps munching on his bread, “I think she is capable of handling that herself.”

you cross your arms with a huff, “what do you mean?”

“she is carrying a shotgun.”

“oh, you right,” you acknowledge, before running towards the dance floor when you see your friend about to throw the bouquet, “f/n, you better not throw that until I tell you!”

“if you don’t get then you just have a major skill issue!”

you gasp, taking a battle stance in the middle of the of the dance floor. you hear your friend giggle, before she finally throws the bouquet into the air.

from then, it’s a cat fight between you and the rest of the people.

however, you come out as victorious then excitedly running towards nanami, “kento! kento! did you see me?”

“mhm, you looked lovely as always,” he chuckles, giving you his full attention.

you giggle, taking a seat beside him. you start talking about your fight(?) to get the bouquet while nanami stealthily takes a plate of your favourite snacks from the buffet and slides it to you.

you gasp, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “thank you, love!”

he hums, eyeing the bouquet, “you know,” then he says, fidgeting with his watch a little, “I can get you a better bouquet if you want—with a side of a ring, of course.”

you were about to finally dig in, but your brain quickly short circuits at his comment, “oh.”

slowly, you turn to him, feeling your face get warmer by the second.

he laughs lightly, hand coming to rest on yours, “I am not joking,” he pulls your hand up for a small peck, “I am just waiting for the right time so please be patient with me.”

GETO SUGURU:

the moment the vows were exchanged, music was blasted to the roof, and everyone was partying to the max.

your cousin, the bride, is dancing to the beat with vigor and excitement you’ve never seen before.

you would like to join her, but geto just won’t let you since he knows that you will somehow end up drunk off your mind and dancing on one of the tables.

so you’re sat with him right now, sulking and glaring at him.

“babe, don’t be so sad now, please? I am only doing this so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.”

you huff and turn your back on him, “I am a full-functioning adult; thank you very much!”

his hand slowly inches towards yours, “the prettiest full-functioning adult,” he smiles, pulling his chair closer to you. “and the smartest too, did you know that?”

you almost give into his advances—his charming smile is far too lethal—but you’ve developed a bit of immunity to his actions.

so instead, you face him with a teasing smile, “I would love if you tell me more—after I successfully steal the bouquet.”

“steal?”

you roll your eyes, “acquire.”

he laughs lightly, and you take it as your cue to run towards the group of women huddled behind your cousin.

you stand proudly, “c/n, throw your bouquet!”

“no!”

“what?!”

“just kidding!”

and so the bouquet flies and ‘accidentally’ lands in your hands—it’s no accident; you’ve been training your entire life for this moment.

people whoop and applaud, and you bow to audience, before scurrying to your darling boyfriend.

you wave the bouquet in your hand, and he nods knowingly, “guess you’re never get rid of me,” you muse, hugging the bouquet to your chest, “what a pity, right?”

he looks at you confused then sighs with a smile, “I never planned to, but okay.”

you beam at him and throw your arms around him, and he laughs, hugging you closer.

you trace shapes on his back and murmur, “you’re way too cute for your own good.”

“I need to charm you one way or another, you know,” he replies, motioning for the waiter to get you two more drinks.

he stays silent for a moment, “you can go get hammered—“

“not!”

“okay, not hammered with your cousin.”

“yay!” you scream joyously and run away.

guess who ended up drunk and dancing on a table.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji and a wedding?

it’s a combination most would not expect, but it isn’t his wedding anyway, so he can’t complain about it being too much commitment right now.

the only thing he can complain about is being put into this ‘suffocating’ suit—a sight you love.

“do we really have to stay till the end?”

you turn towards him, mortified, “this is literally your best friend’s wedding.”

he shrugs, “so?”

with a shake of your head, you drag him further down the hall to your assigned seats. at least, holding your hand is enough to pacify him.

the wedding goes as you would expect, aside from toji almost falling asleep.

you are now just standing beside the clearly expensive and delicious buffet—your true love.

toji is happily indulging in the food laid out in front of him, and you are about to do the same, but you notice that the bouquet throw is about to happen.

so you dash out of your seat just in time to catch that rogue bouquet. you raise your hand, announcing yourself as the now rightful owner of this bouquet.

that’s why you excitedly search for toji to show him your new prize.

you rush towards the table that you left your boyfriend at, “toji, I got it!—toji?”

a look left, a look right, your eyes widen. did the darn guy leave the moment you caught the bouquet? no way his fear of commitment is this intense.

you take note of the groom—toji’s bestie—shaking his head.

feeling embarrassed, you frown and yell for him, “toji fushiguro!”

suddenly, you feel a presence behind your back. you feel the person lean towards your ear a bit, and they whisper a small, “hey.”

you gasp, spinning to smack him square on the shoulder, “I hate you!”

he teases, almost like your hit was never there in the first place, “now now, that isn’t something you say to your future husband,” he grins and you scrunch your face in disgust.

you turn on your heel to walk away from him, “kill yourself.”

“what a foul mouth,” he whistles, following you until you finally give up and are given the chance to punch him in the stomach to make for the scare he gave you.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[pretentious-blonde]

offically

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve panics as he has never had that talk with you, and staying true to form, he overthinks the situation entirely

warnings: 18+ this contains smut, m oral reciving, thigh riding, steve being a nervous sweetheart <3

a/n: idk if i'm happy with this BUT i had to get it out of my mind. also this could be counted as switch!steve so do with that what you will!

series masterlist

A low rumble of thunder echoed outside, and the rain tapped steadily on the classroom windows as Mr Harrington huddled on the floor with his group of second graders. 

It was indoor recess—a golden opportunity for this nail-biting Jenga showdown. Steve’s team and the opposing side of giggling kids faced off over a tower stacked higher than it had any right to be, teetering ominously near the top.

Everything else in the room was buzzing with activity—board games and colouring sheets spread out on tables—but the teacher’s full attention was on the wooden blocks in front of him. He was as serious as any professional athlete under stadium lights. Tension thrummed in his chest, and he could swear the kids on the other side were practically holding their breath, too.

“All right,” he murmured, leaning closer and tapping at a lower block. “What are we thinking, guys?”

One of the students on the other team let out a sharp gasp. 

“That’s cheating!” She accused, pointing at Steve’s probing finger.

“Not cheating,” he huffed out a laugh. “It’s called strategy.” 

He rolled his shoulders back, confidence in his eyes and his heart pounding at the childish competition. 

“What does that mean?” A young boy asked with a confused expression. 

“Strategy means…” He glanced around the tower, “figuring out how we’re gonna win.” 

He sent the kid a playful wink. Instantly, a small chorus of giggles broke out across the table. 

“Pick that one!” one of his teammates whispered urgently, pointing to a precariously wedged block near the middle.

“Yeah, bud, I think you’re right,” he agreed, feeling a surge of pride that this little second grader had even braved an opinion in such a pressure-cooker situation.

Without further hesitation, he leaned forward slowly, fingertips tingling with anticipation. The room seemed to hold its breath.

He nudged the block—just a hair’s breadth out of place. It was going smoothly at first, half the block was free—until suddenly, the entire tower swayed and came crashing down with an echoing clatter. Wooden pieces scattered across the carpet as laughter, shrieks, and theatrical groans erupted from all sides.

“That’s your fault!” wailed one of the kids on Steve’s own team, arms flopping in exasperation.

“Mine?” Steve exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up in feigned offense. “You’re the one who told me to pick that block in the first place!”

The child folded his arms, trying to keep a straight face. 

“Yeah, but I would’ve done it so it didn’t fall.”

Steve burst into laughter, tossing a block gently back into the box. 

“Okay, hot shot. Next time? I’ll let you take the lead.”

He glanced at the clock mounted high on the wall, signalling the end of playtime. With a clap of his hands, he stood tall and called out over the ruckus.

“All right, party people, fun’s over,” he announced. “You’ve got five minutes to get this place looking like it did before we started.”

He fought a grin at the unified chorus of dismayed groans. He raised his brows, crossing his arms in a mock-stern stance. 

“If you don’t put it away, next time we don’t play. Got it?”

A smattering of Yes, Mr. Harrington, rang out, and the kids jumped into action. He allowed himself a moment to watch them scatter—tiny hurricanes of energy, racing to scoop up board game pieces, crayons, and Jenga blocks from around the room.

Teaching was his chance to make a difference, sure, but also to indulge in childlike wonder—when everything felt hopeful.

His gaze flicked to the farthest table, the one that always looked like a rainbow explosion had taken place—glue sticks, coloured pens, and tiny scraps of construction paper littered every inch of it. 

With a soft chuckle, he strolled over to help. Beginning to collect lids and snapping them onto markers, relishing the simple, grounding routine. One of his quieter students, Alfie, stood nearby, cradling what looked like a small, folded card against his chest.

“Hey, Alfie,” he said gently, tilting his head toward the colourful paper in the boy’s hands. “Whatcha got there?”

Alfie blinked up at him, eyes wide with shyness. He held out the card. 

“It’s for Ellie,” he mumbled, voice barely audible over the rustle of paper scraps.

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked. The name tugged at his heart in a different way than usual—he thought briefly of you. Seems like love has been on everyone's minds recently.

Ellie was busy putting them away now, small arms struggling around the stack, and Steve felt a pleasant feeling in his chest at the simple reminder of your first meeting, all spurred on by a simple request for children's reading material. He shook his head as he returned his gaze to his younger student.

“Special occasion?”

The boy’s cheeks pinked as he fiddled with the corner of the card. 

“I’m…gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He had to bite back a grin; the pure earnestness was almost too sweet to bear. 

“That’s a big step, bud,” he said, tone soft as he screwed the cap onto a glue stick. “You nervous?”

“Kinda.” Alfie’s shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “I’ve never asked someone before.”

There was such bravery in those words that triggered a familiar swell of empathy. He crouched down so he could be eye-level with the kid, giving the card a closer look. 

“Well, you’re doing it right.” He said as he got closer. “A nice card? Thoughtful. Girls like that.”

“What if she says no?” Alfie peeked at the little hearts he’d drawn in the corner. 

“Then that’s okay,” Steve replied, voice warm and unwavering. “Just means she wasn’t the right one for you.”

The boy studied his own artwork, as if absorbing some ancient wisdom.

“Go put it with the rest of your stuff so it doesn’t get lost,” he patted him gently on the back. “It’s important, right?”

Alfie nodded, teeth catching his bottom lip in a shy smile before he scampered off to tuck the card safely in his cubby.

Steve straightened, scooping scattered crayons into a box. He was keenly aware of the other children zooming past, arms full of supplies and games, but his mind drifted toward a realisation that made him pause.

He had never actually asked you to be his girlfriend. Not in any official sense, anyway.

His thoughts began that familiar racing which was practically muscle memory at this point.

You and him were clearly together—you spent half your evenings with each other, cooking dinner, stealing kisses around your shop, taking turns meeting the other from work. You even called each other on nights when neither of you could slip away from your busy schedules. 

And that other day in your kitchen, on the counter, his head between your— 

The memory threatened to flood him with heat, and he cleared his throat, forcibly shutting down that train of thought. 

There were children present, for crying out loud.

But still, he couldn’t shake the question. Should he say something? Did you even want him to? You’d always been so content with the small gestures—picking up your favorite snack at the movies, leaving a sweet note behind the register. 

He’d been out of the dating game for God knows how long, but this—this felt like a crucial step, one that couldn’t be ignored or fumbled.

Running a hand through his hair, he surveyed the classroom. The kids were nearly done, the once-messy tables now growing tidy. He hefted the box of coloured pencils and returned them to their spot on the shelf. In his chest, the question still glimmered, stubborn and insistent. 

Are you his girlfriend?

He exhaled, a sigh that seemed to carry all the pent-up yearning in his heart, and wandered back to his desk. As he sank into his chair, he knew this thought wouldn’t leave him alone. Not until he found the right moment to bring it up with you.

And with his luck, it was sure to be more of a challenge than necessary.

Sunday in Hawkins was supposed to be mellow—just a quick coffee, maybe a grocery run—but alas, things don't always go to plan. 

You had somehow transformed this simple outing into a mini shopping spree, darting from shop to shop with that almost pleading expression he could never say no to. And while his arms were definitely beginning to ache, he wasn’t one to complain. Not when he got to watch you light up at the sight of each new treasure you found.

He followed you into a cosy little home goods shop, the kind with shelves stacked to the rafters with mismatched antiques, colourful glassware, and odd knickknacks. You drifted to a shelf with an impressive selection of vases—round ones, tall ones, some painted with delicate flowers.

“It’s… very you.” Steve teased safely as you eyed up a beautiful glass vase, soon holding it up for his opinion.

“What?” you shot back, grinning over your shoulder. “You don’t like my interior design choices?”

He shifted the other bags onto one arm, the lingering weight reminding him just how many stops you’d made that afternoon. 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, giving you a playful smirk. “It’s just…do you really need another vase?”

Your shelves were already pretty cluttered, and he just couldn’t see how you could possibly fit anything else up there. And that’s not to say he didn’t like the eclectic style of your flat, but the practicality was something he was finding difficult to ignore. Even with your excited expression. 

“Uh, no?” You didn’t miss a beat, your matter-of-fact tone making him roll his eyes. “I want it. There’s a difference.”

“Sound argument,” he conceded as he followed you to the counter, trailing behind you good naturedly.

He had some experience shopping with women, and he learnt pretty fast that questioning the validity of such purchases was a redundant argument. 

But hey, if you're happy, so is he—and it meant getting to spend more time with you.

He watched quietly as you paid. He’d tried to do it himself in the first shop you'd visited, but you'd quickly shot him down—not that it stopped him from wanting to. You were rather insistent when you set your mind to something. But that was alright; he’d just have to get creative in the future. 

If he really thought about it, this could even count as market research—practice for when he got you something special himself.

As soon as you finished thanking the young woman behind the till and tucked your wallet back into your bag, he swept in, picking up your purchase before you even had the chance to reach for it.

If he couldn't pay with money, he could at least help this way. Besides, he enjoyed the glances he received from people on the street. The approving looks that confirmed he was doing something right.

“You think I shouldn’t have bought that?” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He relied as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, following behind you once again. 

“If it’s too heavy, you can just say that.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief.

He let out a small, theatrical huff as he shook his head. 

“You’re lucky I like you, y’know that?”

Your face softened, a grin blooming so sweet it made his stomach do a small flip. You hooked your arm through his as he fell in step with you. 

“I am lucky,” you said, your voice warm and fond. “And hey, you look good carrying my stuff.”

His cheeks warmed at that, a heat spreading as he basked in the little thrill your words always seemed to ignite. And yes, he had to agree—he did look good carrying your things. He looked like your boyfriend carrying your things. Once again, that same nagging thought resurfaced, the question of whether you two were ‘official’ pulling insistently at the edges of his mind, just as it had all week.

Before he had a chance to vocalise any of his racing thoughts, the clouds that had been looming overhead all afternoon finally decided to make themselves an issue.

A single raindrop splattered onto the tip of your nose. Another hit his arm, quickly followed by a deluge that washed over Hawkins in a matter of seconds. You let out a startled squeal, gripping his sleeve in an attempt to dodge the worst of the sudden downpour.

“Shit—this way,” he called, reaching for your wrist and gently tugging you along. Rain pelted the pavement, soaking through his hair and dampening his jacket. His shoes splashed in gathering puddles, and he could feel you stumbling to keep up, breathless laughter tumbling from your lips.

“Steve!” you gasped, half-exasperated. “The car is in the other direction!”

He cradled the bags protectively to his chest, blinking raindrops from his eyelashes. 

“Yeah, well, someone decided to go off track with all those extra stops,” he retorted, voice raised above the hammering rain. “My apartment is closer!”

“Seriously?” you said, eyes widening even as you followed him down a side street. The walkway glistened with water, and your shoes squeaked on the slick pavement.

“Yeah, so follow me if you don’t wanna get drenched,” he insisted. Though you were both already pretty soaked, the idea of shelter felt too good to pass up. There was just one small detail that caused a surge of excitement in your chest. 

You’d never been to his apartment before. Not once. 

You'd spent plenty of time at your place, curled up together on the sofa after closing, or wandering aimlessly around town—giggling in coffee shops and buying far too many pastries along the way.

But his apartment? 

This was new.

It wasn’t like he’d intentionally hidden it from you; it had just never seemed to fit naturally into your plans. Whenever you went on a date, he usually just walked you back to your doorstep. After work, your place was conveniently on his way home. And whenever he was in town, you always seemed to be there, somewhere close by. 

His place had simply never come up.

The thought of you stepping into his home—into the space where he felt safest—felt like a huge step. He valued it deeply, the one place where he didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than himself.

Inviting you inside meant sharing a significant part of who he was.

When the two of you finally tumbled inside his apartment, the door slammed shut behind you with a dull thud, muffling the roar of the storm outside. Rainwater dripped from the hems of your clothes, creating a small puddle at your feet. Steve, still balancing your many shopping bags, set them down by the door with a sigh. You might've felt guilty about him carrying everything, but the excitement of being inside his flat quickly overshadowed any lingering worries.

He turned to you, taking in your damp hair and the tiny droplets clinging to your lashes, and felt a gentle tug of tenderness in his chest. Without thinking, he reached out, carefully brushing a few strands away from your forehead, his expression softening with concern. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice light, “you’re drenched.”

A delighted laugh bubbled from your lips as you raked a hand through your soaked hair. 

“Yeah, well, so are you.” Your gaze swept over his own waterlogged sweater, making him acutely aware of just how chilled he was.

“Point taken,” he conceded, trying not to shiver. He glanced at the window, where sheets of rain still pounded against the glass. “Hang on, I’ll grab you something dry.”

“Steve, seriously, it’s not—” You moved to protest, arms folded beneath your chest. 

He shook his head, a firm but amused glint in his eye. 

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that.” His tone was teasing, but he meant every word—he couldn’t bear the thought of you being uncomfortable on his watch. “Just—stay here,” he added, vaguely gesturing for you to wait by the couch.

Without giving you a chance to argue further, he ducked into the short hallway that led to his bedroom. As soon as he was out of your line of sight, he let out a soft exhale and ran a hand through his hair, sending droplets flying, nerves building slightly. You were here, in his space. And rather than scaring him, it filled him with excitement.

The last person he'd brought here had been Robin, but that hadn't felt particularly special—she was around so often, comfortable enough to make herself at home without asking. But now you were his guest, and suddenly he was playing host. It made him giddy, his thoughts drifting to fantasies of coming home to find you already waiting, or casual phone calls where he'd simply just tell you to come over.

He flicked on the bedroom light, mentally cursing the scattered laundry he’d forgotten to fold. The room felt lived in, the walls adorned with movie posters he'd sneakily acquired from his old job, and a modest bookshelf tucked neatly in the corner.

He snatched a dry sweater from the closet for himself—quickly changing out of his soaked one—before rummaging for something comfy in his drawers, settling on a soft, oversized number he hoped would fit you well enough.

As he padded back into the living room, tugging his own fresh change of clothes more into place, he caught you gazing at one of the framed photos on his bookshelf. 

You couldn't help yourself as you continued to look at all of his photos, each one turning his space into a gallery of vivid memories. Everywhere your eyes landed was something positive, something bright.

It was clear he had crafted this intentionally—surrounding himself with reminders of joy and comfort, so whenever anxiety or overwhelm crept in, happiness wouldn't be far away. And now, seeing you here in the middle of it all, it felt as though he'd included you in that gentle optimism, too.

“Here,” he said, offering you the bundle of clothing. The jumper practically swallowed his arms—he’d picked the largest one he owned. “It’s probably too big, but at least you’ll be warm.”

“Thanks.” You took it, fingertips skimming the worn fabric. 

Then, as casually as if you were in your own home, you peeled off your soaked shirt. He froze, his pulse jumping to his throat. You were still wearing a bra, sure—but you might as well have been waving a neon sign because he couldn’t look away.

In the grand scheme of things, you'd both done far more intimate things together, yet this caught him completely off guard. 

A surprise, absolutely, but definitely not an unwelcome one.

“You staring?” You arched a brow at him, a cheeky grin playing on your lips. 

He cleared his throat, snapping his gaze to a nearby lamp. 

“Uh—no,” he lied, feeling heat flare across his cheeks. “Shut up,” he added, but there was no real bite to his words.

Your laughter came soft and sweet, he felt a fierce ache of pride that you were comfortable enough to joke like this around him. Watching you pull on the jumper, he couldn't help but notice how perfectly it fell just past your hips. 

He was just about to tease you—some witty remark about how good you looked in his clothes—but then your fingers moved to the button of your jeans, and his heart nearly short-circuited.

You shimmied out of them, leaving you in nothing but his sweater, which barely concealed your underwear. You held out your wet clothes at arm’s length, droplets pattering onto the floor.

“Can you…” you trailed off, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah,” he said, breath catching. “Y-yeah, of course.” 

Gingerly, he took the soggy bundle, hyperaware that his brain was racing at the mere sight of your bare legs. He forced himself to turn away, inhaling a calming breath. 

“I’ll put these on the radiator.”

Slipping into the adjoining room—an open doorway that led to a compact kitchen and a laundry nook—he carefully spread your clothes over the warm metal. A burst of thunder rattled the window, shaking him from his smitten spiral. He cleared his throat, ran a towel quickly over his hair, and then made his way back to the living room. You were already curled up on his couch, legs tucked beneath you, your attention drawn to the rain hammering the glass. 

Something about the sight—you, looking so relaxed and at home—melted the last of his hesitation.

He sank down beside you, the old couch cushions dipping under his weight.

“Better?” He asked, voice quieter than usual.

You turned, letting your gaze lock with his. “Much better.”

He sighed in relief but had to make a very conscious effort not to stare at the bare skin of your legs, no matter how tempting it was. He glanced away quickly, hoping you hadn't noticed, but when his eyes drifted back to yours, he saw that playful glint in your expression—clear evidence you'd caught him red-handed. 

His heart jumped, a little embarrassed, but you weren't going to let him off easy; he knew that mischievous look far too well.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice already betraying him with a slight tremor. 

Instead of answering, you shuffled closer. Closer still, until the thin cushion separating you ceased to exist and you were practically pressed against his side. 

What were you planning?

“You still cold?” he teased, trying and failing to keep his composure as you inched even nearer.

Sure, it was a silly question—he was the one who felt like his blood was on fire—but the words spilt out before he could rethink them. His own breath caught in his throat as he began to catch onto what was happening. 

“Maybe,” you replied, a playful lilt to your voice.

He was about to muster another snarky comeback, maybe tease you about the goosebumps on your legs, but you swung yourself over his lap before he had the chance. You leaned in to sweep away the stray strands clinging to his forehead. The simple gesture sent a warm flush skittering through his veins. 

You clearly wanted to play with him. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” he managed, voice just a bit hoarse. The way he looks when he’s flustered only urging you to tease him further. 

“Nothing,” you murmured, tilting his chin gently upward until his gaze locked with yours. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

The words echoed in his mind, and he blushed so hard that he was sure you could feel the heat rolling off his face. 

“I mean—yeah, you—” He stammered, unable to form a coherent response before you leaned down and pressed your lips softly against his.

His eyes fluttered shut almost instantly, hands drifting up to settle on your waist as he held you close. You pulled back just for a moment, your breath fanning across his cheek, and he swallowed thickly in anticipation. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “what are you—”

“I’m saying thank you for today,” you whispered, sliding your mouth over his again. A shiver ran through him at the warmth of your lips, the gentle press of your body against his. His fingers curled in the fabric of his own sweater you were wearing, anchoring you closer.

Your lips trailed a path to his neck then, soft and insistent. His breath hitched, and his mind went blank save for the electric pulse racing through his body. He felt your teeth graze delicately against his skin, and a low groan escaped him, unbidden. The next instant, he was arching up, a rush of heat coursing from his neck all the way down to his toes.

“Gonna let me thank you for real, Steve?” you purred against his ear, followed by a nip that had his vision hazing around the edges. 

He was so easy to fluster—it was almost unfair, but you couldn't deny how adorable it made him. Especially when all he could manage was a ragged exhale. The sensation of your lips skewing his ability to think straight. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, voice wrecked and hardly recognisable. “I—yeah, yes—please,” he breathed, mind whirling. 

Any coherent thought dissolved when you leaned back and studied him, your eyes dark with want. 

“Wanna try something,” you murmured, and every nerve in his body lit up at once.

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. 

“Whatever you want.”

And he meant it. He trusted you—completely. 

You could take care of him; he knew that deep down.

You slipped off his lap and sank to your knees in front of him. A jolt of pure, dizzying shock flared behind his ribcage at the sight, sending his heart into a frenzied rhythm. He blinked, mind scrambling to keep up.

You brushed your fingers gently along his thigh, your movements deliberate and careful—letting him know without words exactly what you were doing. His breath caught softly, grateful that you were communicating so clearly, even if words escaped him entirely right now. 

He vaguely registered your hesitation about undressing him, aware you hadn’t quite crossed that bridge yet. Normally, he'd have appreciated your thoughtfulness, but right now, his mind was struggling to concentrate on anything other than your touch.

Your hands were purposeful, nails grazing the denim lightly, and he nearly jolted at the sensation. When you looked up at him with those wide, doe-like eyes, he felt an embarrassing hitch in his stomach. You were wearing that almost-innocent expression that never failed to make him want to do anything you asked.

“Look so pretty like this,” you said, voice low and soft as you let your hand creep to the waistband of his jeans. 

And he did—eyes blown wide, lips flushed and parted—he was a vision, utterly breathtaking. You couldn't tear your gaze away, captivated by how beautifully undone he looked above you.

“Fuck, angel,” he mumbled, fighting the urge to sink deeper into the cushions. “Can’t just say stuff like that.”

“What?” you teased, tugging gently at the button of his fly. “It’s true.”

A strangled sound escaped him, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. You had his zipper halfway down, and he barely remembered to breathe as you began peeling away the damp denim from his hips. 

The thought that this is happening looped wildly in his mind, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the smooth press of your palms against his skin.

Some part of him was still spinning—still tangled up in the swirl of half-voiced questions about what, exactly, you and he were. When your fingers found the elastic of his boxers, he felt his pulse spike. You were about to tug them down, already leaning in closer, when a burst of panic fused with desire in his chest.

“Hey, wait, no—wait, stop,” he blurted, placing a hand gently over yours.

You froze, wide-eyed and contrite. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, already starting to withdraw your hand as though you’d touched something forbidden, terrified that you took things too far. “I’m sorry, what did I do?”

Fuck.

“No—no sweetheart, you didn’t—” he rushed to reassure, heart twisting at the worried look on your face. He swallowed, willing his voice to cooperate. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

As you stayed there, still on your knees, hand resting on his thigh, he felt heat flush his cheeks. God, you looked so concerned. And he felt utterly ridiculous for choosing now, of all times, to bring up the one conversation he’d been dancing around for days.

“What are we doing?” he asked, voice cracking on the question.

You blinked up at him, confusion knitting your brow. 

Wasn't it obvious?

“Um, I was gonna—” and the embarrassment colouring your cheeks made his stomach clench. You looked as though you thought he was rejecting you—which couldn't have been further from the truth.

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his messy hair. 

“Not that—definitely not that,” he clarified, wincing because this was probably the worst way to go about this. “I just…” A groan rumbled in his chest as he struggled to string his thoughts together. “Are we…are we, like, together?”

Silence stretched for a moment, his heart hammering relentlessly in his chest. He watched you carefully, catching the uncertainty in your expression. He knew you weren’t misreading him—you never did. You always seemed one step ahead, taking his hesitation without question and guiding him towards an answer.

Even now, you understood him. You saw past the nervousness, the awkward pause, the apology in his eyes. He was still learning—still figuring out how to put his feelings into words without tripping over them—but you didn’t need him to say it outright. You could read between the lines, pulling meaning from the things he couldn’t quite articulate.

“What do you mean?”

You had an inkling of what he meant, had already pieced it together in the way he looked at you, the way he paused—but hearing him say it, hearing him put it into words, made it all the sweeter.

“I mean…” His frustration with himself flared. He pressed his palms against his eyes, mortified by the timing. “Are we, you know, together?”

There it is.

A knowing smile curved your lips as you leaned in, letting your hand trail just a little higher on his thigh. Slow and deliberate. His breath hitched, and you could practically see the anticipation warring in his expression. 

Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Which part, exactly?” you asked, unable to hide your amusement. “The part where you spend all your free time in my shop? Or the part where you fall asleep on the phone with me practically every night?”

He let out a tortured groan, hiding his burning face in his hands again. 

“This is so not how I wanted this conversation to go,” he muttered, shoulders tense even as he recalled the soft memories.

“Oh, wait—was it the part where you carried all my bags today?” You paused, as if savouring how flustered he was, before lowering your voice further. “Or maybe it's the part where you ate me out on the kitchen counter?”

Your words snapped something inside him, and his head lifted sharply, heat rushing straight to his cheeks as he desperately tried to silence the sinful image of you unraveling above him—an image that was both utterly filthy and entirely unhelpful in clearing his scattered brain.

“Stop,” he managed, somewhere between a whine and a protest.

“Alright,” you relented, your grin practically lighting the room as you decided he had been tortured enough. “I’m done. Promise.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief tangling with embarrassment.

You tilted your head, eyes still dancing with affection. 

“So go on,” you urged softly.

“Huh?”

“Ask me what you want to ask me,” you murmured, guiding his hand to rest against yours on his thigh again, your skin warm beneath his touch, letting him know that you’ve got him.

He stared, trying to corral his thoughts into something understandable. His pulse thrummed through his entire body. 

“Are…are you my girlfriend?”

He cringed inwardly, mortified at how childish he sounded. Hell, even his students could probably navigate this conversation better than he was currently butchering it.

“Do you want me to be?” you asked, fingers toying with his own.

“Yes,” he said, maybe more forcefully than he intended. “Yes, I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

The reward of hearing him finally ask you officially was more than worth the trial you'd just put him through.

In truth, you had already considered him yours. There was no question of where his heart lay, no doubt that his gaze was fixed solely on you. But this uncertainty had been eating away at him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts for days. Honestly, you were more than happy to put his mind at ease.

Even if you had a little fun with it first.

“Good,” you cooed, then trailed your palm over the front of his boxers. He shuddered at the sensation, heart flipping as you teased. “Because I’d really like to make my boyfriend feel good," you paused, glancing up to meet his eyes, "if he’ll let me?”

He swallowed hard, his throat clicking audibly. 

Boyfriend. 

The label settled over him like a perfect fit, especially when it came to you. It felt right.

More than that—it felt earned.

After years of therapy, of unlearning, of piecing himself back together, he had finally reached a place where he could be that again. Where he could embody that for you. And God, if he could, he’d shout it from the rooftops—because after everything, he was finally here. 

“Anything. Anything you want, just—” His breath came out shaky as he watched you hook your fingers into the waistband and finally ease him free, the sight of your hand on him making his brain sputter out.

He was fully at your mercy, and he knew it.

You freed his cock from his jeans, fingers wrapping around his length with a touch so deliberate it sent a shiver through him. Your strokes were slow, teasing, dragging out his anticipation until he was fighting the urge to buck into your hand. The pace was torturous in the best way, every movement intentional, every flick of your thumb over his tip pulling ragged curses from his lips.

“Please,” he rasped. It felt like an admission—like you’d unraveled him so completely that the only word he could utter was a plea.

The playful glint in your eyes didn’t wane for a second. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” you murmured, leaning down to take him into your mouth.

His vision went momentarily white at the initial jolt of pleasure. 

“Ah—fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice breaking on the last syllable.

His hand shot out, gripping the couch cushion to keep from tugging you closer too quickly. Every nerve in his body screamed to feel more—to sink deeper into that warm, wet heat of your mouth—but he wanted you in control, you setting the pace. No matter how undone he was becoming.

His heart thundered at the smug little curl of your lips around him, and a full-body shudder tore through him. You’re a fucking minx. The way you thrived off his torment, off every broken sound he made, was downright sinful—and God, he loved it.

“You’re—you’re gonna be the death of me.” He managed to choke out, though there was more desperation than accusation in his tone.

You didn’t answer—only laced your free hand with his, threading your fingers together. That tender gesture clashed beautifully with the wicked rhythm you kept, your mouth sending jolts of pleasure through every inch of him. Intimate and filthy all at once, and the contrast was dizzying.

He squeezed your hand to ground himself, giving another breathless moan that might have sounded embarrassing if he’d been capable of caring about anything other than how good you felt.

When you finally pulled back for air, you looked up at him, flushed and triumphant. The sight knocked the wind right out of him. 

“Want you to cum like this,” you murmured, your voice low and sweet as you guided his palm to the side of your face. “Let me make you feel good.”

You settled over him again, lips wrapping around his cock, and his grip tightened involuntarily. This time, he couldn’t fight the broken whine that tore from his throat.

He tried—God, he tried—not to push you too hard, but every brush of your tongue shattered a piece of his self-control. The way his fingers twitched against your cheek and travelled to your hair, urging you deeper and apologising for his urgency.

“You are—” he managed to babble, voice raw. “You—God, always—” The rest of his sentence disintegrated into a choked, needy noise as you quickened your pace. His breathing came in short gasps, and his pulse hammered so fiercely that he felt it in his fingertips.

“Don’t stop,” he begged, the words half-lost. He couldn’t stop the slight thrust of his hips, the heat coiling in his abdomen reaching a breaking point. The blissful pressure threatened to overwhelm him.

“Shit, wait—baby—” His voice broke, hands trembling around you. “I’m gonna—”

“Let go,” you whispered. And then you were taking him even deeper, pushing him right over that dizzying brink.

It was too much, too intense—pleasure slammed through him, wrenching a ragged cry from his chest that he barely recognised as his own. His body went rigid for a moment, and then he felt it all wash over him in waves that left him trembling. Throughout it all, you held him, your hand entwined with his, guiding him through the spiralling bliss until he finally went boneless against the couch.

When the reeling from the blissful high began to dissipate, he glanced down at you, taking in the sight before he dared to move.

He leaned forward, his elbows braced against his knees so he could meet your gaze on equal footing. His heart was still hammering in his chest, and he had to remind himself to breathe steadily, to find some semblance of composure. Yet the moment his eyes absorbed your flushed cheeks and the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders, any hope of calm unravelled.

God, just look at you. By some miracle, you were his—truly, officially his.

“You’re something else, y’know that?” he murmured, voice a little hoarse. There was a soft reverence in his tone, as though he still couldn’t believe his own luck.

A flash of self-satisfaction curved your lips, and before you could respond, he closed the distance. His kiss was as gentle as he could manage, though there was no denying the heat behind it.

You melted into him, arms looping around his neck, your fingertips grazing the hair at his nape. The scent of you—slightly musky from exertion, threaded with the faint warmth of your body wash—made his head spin all over again.

When he guided you onto his lap, you went willingly. The move ended with you straddling his thigh, and the firm press of his denim against your underwear made you jerk in surprise. 

He felt the tremor that shivered through you and swallowed down a groan. Despite how tender he was still feeling from his release, an echo of desire began to thrum low in his stomach, and his mind latched on to a new idea—one that had him downright giddy with anticipation.

“Mmm,” you teased, smile dancing on your kiss-bruised lips, “you just figuring that out now?”

He scoffed softly, but the playful glint in his eyes couldn’t be missed. Pulling back a fraction, he rested his hands on your waist, tracing small circles into your hips through the fabric of his sweater—your sweater now, technically, but it bore his scent and that fact made him hum with satisfaction.

Your brows furrowed in curiosity as he edged you slightly backward, enough to slip his palms over your hips. Then—so subtly you almost questioned if it was by accident—he dragged you forward over his leg. The friction had your breath hitching, your eyes going wide with recognition when he repeated the motion.

“Oh,” you breathed, voice hitching, and he couldn’t help the slow grin tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he rasped, dragging out the syllable, “oh.”

You braced your hands on his shoulders. The lazy confidence unfurling inside him felt new but exhilarating—after all those times you’d teased him into a breathless mess, it was his turn. He watched your cheeks burn hotter, and the awareness sank in that you’d realised exactly what he was planning.

His girlfriend. Official. Right here, perched all pretty on his lap, pliant enough to shatter on his thigh. A possessive thrill coursed through him at the thought. He wanted to make you feel as incredible as you’d just made him.

And from the look in his eyes—the slow, self-assured fire that glowed beneath his lashes—you knew it too. You might’ve been the one teasing him earlier, but by the gleam in his expression, you could tell he wasn’t going to relent until you were undone.

“Steve,” you started, your voice low and edged with apprehension and want.

He merely grinned, letting his hold on your hips tighten, urging you to move again. 

“No, angel,” he drawled, mischief lacing his tone. “Don’t back down now.”

He continued guiding your hips, the gentle pressure of his palms keeping you tethered. When you tipped your head back, exposing the graceful line of your throat, he fought the urge to dip in and kiss every inch of skin he saw. Desire coiled low as he watched the way your body moved with each drag across his denim. 

“Feel good, baby?” he asked, voice catching with that newly emboldened edge. His gaze swept over your flushed cheeks, your parted lips.

You only managed a strangled murmur that it felt so good, and he smiled—completely enthralled, slightly smug. He was the one rocking you like this, making you whimper and cling to him, and the knowledge shot straight through him like a jolt of adrenaline.

“Gonna get off like this?” he pressed, flexing his thigh more pointedly beneath you. Your only response was a nod, desperate and unequivocal. “Good,” he murmured. “Use me all you want. I’m yours now, aren’t I?”

It was such a shift from the breathless, near-begging mess he’d been earlier. That single reassurance you’d given him—claiming him—seemed to have flipped a switch inside him. 

Steve Harrington never was the type to do anything by halves once he’d given his heart away, and this, right here, was proof he was ready to take care of you just as thoroughly as you’d done for him. He flexed his leg again, and you let out a shaky whine, head lolling back. 

“No, none of that,” he chided playfully, giving your thigh a light tap. When your gaze fluttered to his again, he softened ever so slightly. “Keep those eyes on me, alright? Wanna see you.”

Your stomach knotted with need at his command, and you dug your hands into his shoulders for balance. Each roll of your hips sent pulses of molten pleasure through your core, and his steady grip on your body only pushed you closer to the brink. The intensity of his gaze, locked on yours, made it all the more dizzying.

“One day,” he said, breath hitching at your frantic movements, “gonna have you ride me like this.”

“Fuck—Steve,” A quiet gasp escaped you, surprised at how confidently filthy he’d become. Instead of blushing and letting the moment go, he kept going, emboldened by the way your eyes widened. 

“Yeah, you like that?” He rasped, “ S’okay to want it, baby, I' know you do.”

You swallowed thickly, clinging to him as you sped up, each stroke of friction bringing you higher, closer. He watched your hands quake slightly where they gripped his sweater.

“Just know you’d take me so well,” he went on, voice rough with longing. His thumb slid across your belly, pressing gently just above the waistband of your underwear. “Gonna feel me right here—can’t wait to see it, gonna look so fucking beautiful, I just know it.”

Your control began to unravel. The pleasure built too high, too fast, and the broken syllables falling from your lips told him everything he needed. He held you steady as you tried to warn him, though it came out garbled, your body tensing in telltale desperation.

“Oh, I know—I know,” he whispered, coaxing you right to the edge. “C’mon, show me, angel. You can let go.”

And with that, you did. Each quiver and wave of your release pulsed against his thigh, the grip you had on his shoulders almost bruising. He welcomed every ounce of it, eyes locked on your face. He wore the raw, awestruck expression of a man witnessing something indescribably precious—like he wanted to imprint this moment forever.

When the tremors finally subsided, you slumped forward, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Steve’s arms came up around you in an instant, holding you securely, chest heaving with exertion. He skimmed the back of his knuckles along your spine in soothing strokes, dropping a few featherlight kisses against your hairline.

He sensed the flutter of self-consciousness in the way your cheeks glowed pink as you pulled back, and it only made him grin wider.

“Oh? You shy now?” he teased, voice low.

Your immediate no, came out suspiciously soft, which made him snort. He tugged you closer and felt his heart skip at how you pressed against him so naturally, even through the bashfulness.

“So,” you ventured after a beat, a tiny smirk tugging at your lips, “do you feel better now?”

“Which part?” His mouth quirked up as he asked in a mock-innocent tone. “Because the part where you were on your knees—”

“No, not that,” you groaned, heat creeping up your neck. “Jeez, is that all you keep me around for?”

His laugh was unabashed this time, eyes shining with mischief.

“Well, if I’d known you could do that, I would have asked you a lot sooner,” he bantered back, just to rile you up.

You huffed and moved to stand, but he was quicker, shoving his arm out to stop you in your tracks.

“Wait, wait, no—come back here,” and pulled you back onto his lap with a gentle but insistent tug. His fingers drifting absentmindedly as he traced small patterns into your skin. You realised with a jolt of warmth that he was already more openly affectionate, more physically clingy.

Maybe the relationship label was all he’d needed to show this side of himself.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to ask,” he murmured, tone now serious. “I was being stupid.”

You shook your head and looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

“You’re not stupid,” you said softly. “It was…kind of sweet.”

He snorted, a playful scoff, as if unconvinced.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” But the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying how relieved he was to hear you say it.

Your eyes drifted to the window then, and you frowned. The steady drumming of rain had quieted, replaced by a gentle, sporadic dripping against the glass. He felt you tense in his arms and immediately straightened, concern flitting across his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice laced with that newfound protectiveness. He was clearly prepared to fix whatever had put that crease in your brow.

“We should probably head back to the car." You sighed. "Looks like the storm’s over.”

He followed your gaze to the clearing sky, then shook his head.

“We don’t have to,” he said quietly, eyes flicking back to you. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Confusion flickered over your features.

“Steve, you have work tomorrow. It’s Sunday—”

He shrugged, sliding his hands up and down your sides.

“Yeah, but you don’t. And I can…what, pack my bag or something in the morning?” He rolled his eyes in good humour. “It’s not like I need much time to check I got my stickers.”

A small giggle escaped you, and your fingers toyed with the neckline of his sweater. He could tell you weren’t truly convinced, though he also sensed your reluctance came more from courtesy than disinterest. He smoothed a hand over your spine, trying not to beam too much with how badly he wanted you to stay.

“Please?” he added softly, his eyes bright and earnest. “I’m asking nicely.”

A warm flush spread across your cheeks; you chewed on your lower lip as though mulling it over. He recognised you were almost certainly going to agree, so he threw in one last incentive for good measure.

“I can order pizza for dinner.”

That sealed it.

“Sold!” you exclaimed, the tension in your body dissolving instantly.

With a sudden rush of affection, you flung your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. He laughed, the sound light and filled with relief, cradling you to him as if you were something precious.

He was really going to have a sleepover with his girlfriend.

His heart fluttered with excitement he didn’t even try to hide. Visions of you sprawled on his couch, rummaging through his secret stash of Family Video flicks, drifted through his mind. He pictured your socked feet propped up on his coffee table as you dozed against his arm. Maybe you’d share a blanket, occasionally sneaking kisses during the slow scenes.

His arms tightened around your waist. Leaning his head against yours, he allowed himself to revel in the moment. Because this was exactly the thing he told himself he would never achieve again.

But here you were—in his arms—proving his theory entirely incorrect.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi @just-lilita @negomi123 @catluver02 @tinythebunni @everythinghasafacee

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART ONE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

‘The Prince smiled, extending his hand towards her with grace and ease.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked lowly, his eyes meeting hers with a kind yet mischievous twinkle. There was something about the Prince that made her heart flutter, that made her place her hand into his and reply-‘

The sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps and a chorus of shouting caused you to stuff the book beneath your pillows, a small panic settling over you as you quickly jumped out of your rickety bed and threw the old sheets over the mattress to at least make it look as if you hadn’t been lying in it mere seconds ago.

The door to the attic swung open, violently ricochetting off the wall and with a loud ‘bang’. You flinched, a shaky breath escaping you as you turned your gaze towards the form of your stepmother, her piercing greyish-blue eyes staring intently at you as she entered. She held her head high, the permanent scowl on her features examining every little aspect of the small space with precision. Her eyes landed on the small wooden table beside your bed, narrowing on the melted candle with the wax spilling over the sides.

“You were reading again, weren’t you?” She growled, her lips pursing in annoyance. Fiddling with your hands in front of you, you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “It wasn’t all night, Lady Worthington, I swear-“

“Nonsense, I can see the candle clear as day girl!” She shouted, a look of disapproval forming on her features. You held her stare, a small sense of guilt settling in your stomach the longer your stepmother remained in the attic. With a long and annoyed huff, she brushed he black-greying hair from her shoulder, looking you up and down with a look of disgust. “Get yourself cleaned up, and once you’re done start with breakfast. My girls are hungry, we have a long day ahead of us” she ordered, gathering her deep purple skirts and storming out of the room.

Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, your shoulders slumped in relief. You looked down at yourself and sighed, Lady Worthington was right. The clothes you wore currently were nothing but rags, and your day clothes weren’t much better. They were either oversized or too small, but you made do with the worn black and white maids dresses you were given. After getting changed and tying your hair back with a small piece of ribbon, you quickly skipped downstairs and into the kitchen.

You could hear Lady Worthington and her daughters cackling manically in the dining room, discussing their plans for the day, and how excited they were to be invited to Lady Danbury’s ball. Lady Danbury’s ball was one of the highlights of the season, or…so you had heard anyway. It had been a long time since you had seen the dear woman, you believed the last time you held conversation with her was when you were but a child. Your father, just after the loss of your mother, had taken you to one of Lady Danbury’s balls after deciding that leaving you at home would have been unwise at this grief-stricken time.

You remembered the beautiful dresses, the beautiful debutants who smiled and waved at your curious gaze. The kind bachelors who greeted you with a dance. And a young boy, hiding behind his father’s legs, his eyes following you wherever you went. Lady Danbury had been most gracious, you remember. A close friend of your mothers, almost like an aunt to you. But when Lady Worthington came into the picture and had taken control of your father’s inheritance after his passing, you were practically forgotten and hidden away from the ton. A part of you missed it, though you weren’t envious of today’s debutants desperately seeking husbands. Lady Worthington was perhaps one of the most persistent mothers out there, aside from Lady Featherington you hear.

This would be the third season that your stepsisters, Elizabeth and Mary Worthington, would participate in. They very much enjoyed flaunting themselves before the ton, given the state of their rooms with delicate and luxurious dresses and jewellery thrown about. They did not hide their wealth, rather your father’s wealth, that their mother had inherited, and bought the fanciest dresses money could buy. It had almost worked one season, Colin Bridgerton had visited to call on Elizabeth. But upon seeing how lavishly she lived, and how horribly she had treated you upon her request for tea for the two of them, the third-eldest Bridgerton hadn’t called again.

She changed somewhat after that, you recalled. She didn’t find much enjoyment in gorgeous dresses or glittering diamonds. She didn’t speak much to you or her mother anymore either, but Mary was her confidant. Sometimes she would glance at you, a look of guilt on her face, but it briefly passed whenever her sister or mother made some snide comment about your presence.

Preparing breakfast was easily done. Keeping a portion for yourself on a separate plate, you carried the three other plates into the dining room with practiced ease. Mary squealed with delight, snatching one of the plates from your arm and almost knocking the others out of your grasp in the process. “Oh thank goodness, I’m starved!” she exclaimed, hastily digging in as if she hadn’t eaten in days. You handed a plate to Elizabeth, who seemed to nod slightly as you placed the plate before her. Lady Worthington however, merely sneered as you placed her plate on the table.

You excused yourself from the room and retreated into the kitchen, beginning to eat your portion of the remaining food whilst listening to their gossip quietly. They weren’t quiet by any means, though you supposed that it was in their nature to be loud and obnoxious.

“Mother, did you hear! I heard from Cressida that apparently Lord Bridgerton is looking for a wife this season!” Mary exclaimed, her words muffled likely by the food in her mouth. You heard Elizabeth sigh heavily “I won’t believe it until Lady Whisteldown writes about it-“

“Nonsense!” Lady Worthington cried, interrupting her daughter with a squeal, “If the rumour is true than we are going to take every advantage we can get. The two of you are going to do your damned best get his attention-“

“And what if we don’t, mother? What then?” Elizabeth spoke quietly, almost timidly. You heard Lady Worthington scoff “Oh, you will. We are going out as soon as possible to find you both new dresses for the ball tonight”.

“Oh mother, how exciting!” Mary cried, you could hear the chair scrape harshly against the wooden floorboards as she abruptly stood up from her seat, “We are going to be the most beautiful women at the Ball!”

“Y/N! Help my daughters get dressed! We will be heading out shortly, and make sure that the horses are prepared!” Lady Worthington shouted, the sound of her shrill cry causing a sense of panic to surge through you.

Coughing as you chocked on your food, you quickly wiped your mouth and fixed your skirts. “Yes, right away!” You called back, sighing heavily as you rushed back upstairs. Upon entering Mary’s room, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Clothes lay on almost every inch of the floor, dresses, undergarments, jewellery. This was going to be a tough morning.

Tag List:

@ladybirdbeetle7 @sweetsourpus @in-deans-arms @blackthorngirl @kee-0-kee

@sometimesminsan @prawntoastsworld @scoopsahoyspidey @darkness-falls-xo

@reallysparklychaos @hottie-bishop-belova @riptidewaters @jay-being-weird

@khhhhjj @golden-girasol @linnygirl09 @xoxonoire @stanmixtapes

@freyagallileaevans @gracielou0518 @judig92 @rafaaoli @queenslandlover-93

@esquivelbianca @fanfictioncafe @hjgdhghoe @sillynilly27

[livvymd]

Nervous Laughter & New Faces | George x Shy!Reader

You’d been mentally preparing for this all week. Meeting George’s friends wasn’t just a casual thing—it was the thing. The big deal. These were the boys he laughed with, filmed with, and spent hours editing videos with. They were his second family.

So naturally, you were panicking.

You stood outside the pub, your hands fidgeting with the sleeves of your cardigan. George noticed. He reached over, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer so only you could hear. “You’re gonna be fine. They’re gonna love you.”

You nodded, but your stomach still flipped. “What if they think I’m boring?”

George gave you a look. “Then I’ll get new friends.”

You laughed nervously, and he smiled, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean it. You’re brilliant. Come on.”

Inside, the pub buzzed with low chatter and clinking glasses. You followed close behind him as he navigated through tables, finally stopping at one tucked into the corner. Your heart jumped.

Chris, ArthurTV, and Arthur Hill were already there.

“Boys,” George greeted, grinning. “This is Y/N.”

Three heads turned toward you.

Chris was the first to speak, flashing a charming grin. “Ah, so you’re the mystery girl. George hasn’t shut up about you.”

Your cheeks went warm instantly. “O-oh, really?”

ArthurTV—who you recognized from a few of George’s videos—gave you a soft smile. “In a good way, promise. He’s been smitten since day one.”

Arthur Hill gave you a quick wave and a bright “Nice to meet you!”

You murmured a soft “Nice to meet you too,” barely making eye contact as you sat beside George. Your leg bounced under the table, fingers twisting the hem of your jumper again.

George noticed. He rested his hand on your knee under the table and leaned in. “Want me to order for you?”

You nodded quickly. “Please.”

The conversation picked up again—Chris teasing Arthur Hill about a football mishap, ArthurTV talking about a new video idea—and slowly, the tension started to melt. George would glance at you every few minutes, checking in with a squeeze of your hand or a gentle nudge with his knee.

Then Chris turned to you.

“So, Y/N. What do you actually do? Besides stealing George’s attention all the time?”

You let out a shy laugh. “Um… I work in publishing, actually.”

ArthurTV perked up. “No way. Like, books?”

You nodded. “Yeah, editing mostly.”

Chris leaned in, eyes widening. “Okay, that’s actually cool.”

“Cooler than what George does,” Arthur Hill joked, earning a chorus of fake-offended gasps.

You giggled, covering your mouth instinctively.

George grinned, proud. “Told you she’s class.”

Throughout the evening, the jokes came easier. The boys were welcoming in their chaotic way, and their teasing never felt mean—more like a bizarre form of acceptance. George kept you grounded the whole time, always checking that you were okay, never letting you feel out of place.

By the end of the night, when you excused yourself to go to the loo, ArthurTV leaned toward George and said, “Mate, she’s adorable.”

Chris nodded. “And smart. She passed the vibe check.”

George smiled to himself. “Yeah… I know.”

When you came back, George stood up and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“You did so good,” he whispered.

You leaned into him with a shy little smile, heart full and warm.

Maybe meeting the boys hadn’t been so scary after all.

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

Let Down Your Guard

November prompt: guard

532 words

Rating: G

No warnings apply

@steddiemicrofic

“So, brave traveler.” Eddie sends Steve a shit-eating grin. “What do you do?”

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie, then glances down at the table. He looks back at Eddie to say, “I flirt with the guard.”

Eddie blinks. “You- alright. Roll for initiative, I guess.”

Steve peers down at his dice, then grins up at Eddie. “Twenty.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie mutters to himself, then louder, “Before you say a word, the guard notices you. In a deep, gravely voice, he says, ‘I’ve seen many come around in search of the treasure. I’ve never seen anyone who outshone the treasure all on their own.’”

Steve blushes, but perseveres. “Then maybe you’d like to come with me for a bit? Find out what it’s like to have your own treasure.”

Eddie checks his papers, rolls a dice. Sighs. “‘Perhaps I will,’ the guard says, and allows you to lead him away. Henderson!” Dustin jumps. “Your turn.”

“Uh.” Dustin blinks. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“Language,” Steve and Eddie chorus.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Oh, lay off it, I hear you say worse than hell. Perception check?”

Eddie nods. “Roll.”

So the game goes. It finishes with the party finding the treasure and defeating the orc protecting it. The Party cleans up their bit of the mess and bikes home, while Eddie stays behind, cleaning up his part of the game and helping Steve in the kitchen. “I’ve gotta say, I didn’t expect that move from you.” He smirks at Steve.

Steve smirks back. “What can I say? I’m a man of surprises.”

Eddie snorts. “A dork of surprises, maybe.”

“Hey!” Steve says, affronted, and splashes him with water. Eddie immediately splashes him back, then jumps out of the danger zone. Steve laughs and continues washing dishes.

A few minutes later, he quietly continues. “I’ve been… talking some things through. With Robin.”

“Oh?” Eddie takes a plate from Steve and starts drying. 

“Mhm. About…” he sighs, nibbles his lip.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“But I want to. I want to say it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. Turns to Eddie. “I think- no. I like guys and girls.”

Eddie smiles encouragingly. “That’s cool, man. Thanks for telling me.” They’re silent for a second before, “What made you think about all of this?”

Steve glances at Eddie. Murmurs, “You.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve shrugs, won’t look at Eddie. “Yeah. It started with Spring Break, I think, and it just… continued. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Didn’t want to, half the time. And I know that just because we both like guys doesn’t mean anything, and I know you don’t feel the same, and this doesn’t have to change anything-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Eddie covers Steve’s mouth with his hand, eyes wide. “Slow down on the catastrophizing there, Steve-o. Let’s take this one thing at a time. First,” Eddie chuckles, “dude, I’ve had a massive crush on you since high school. I do feel the same. And it doesn’t have to change anything, you’re right, we can take it slow if you want-”

“Hell no,” Steve says, grinning, and kisses him.

Eddie gladly kisses him back.

[aheathen-conceivably]

The tip of Violette’s foot was perfectly upturned as she hopped into the first square of the crudely drawn hopscotch board. And five, six, seven, eight… Her other foot reached the final square, pirouetting exactly in the center before she spun back toward the start and hopped lightly onto her other foot. Nine, eight, seven, six… She reached the middle of the board easily, her balance never faltering even as she bent down to pick up the stone in the fifth square.

She held it up triumphantly, jumping out of the final square with a bit too much flair for someone who already knew they had won. The girl keeping score across the way called out loudly. “Violette wins again!”

Violette set the stone back on the ground, mindful of the boys at the end of the yard who had been cheering her on. She gave them a small bow, watching Will’s cheeks grow pink like he was embarrassed she was drawing so much attention to herself. When she turned she saw her friend Daisy, arms crossed and eyes to the ground. Violette didn’t need anyone to keep track of the score. She never lost track of the count, or at least she very rarely did. She had picked up the stone from each square without losing her balance once. A perfect ten out of ten. Daisy, who came in second almost every time, still only had five out of ten. 

Sometimes Violette considered letting herself fall, just so that she wouldn’t look so defeated. But then, in the moment, with everyone’s eyes on her, her arms soared higher and her posture even straighter, so that she leapt off the final square forgetting she had ever felt bad at all. But now, seeing her again, a small pit of guilt rose in her stomach. She walked toward her, gesturing to the monkey bars, “Want to race across? See who can make it to the top?”

Daisy readily shook her head, glancing over to the table where the boys were seated before she ran to the monkey bars. Violette stood still for a moment, counting in her mind before she ran off to join her. Five, six, seven, eight….

By the time Zelda walked up to the schoolyard a choir of girlish giggles was raining down from the monkey bars. She stood unnoticed near the fence, watching the childish energy surge through the schoolyard like hummingbirds in Spring. It was heartening to see her daughter this way, so lively and comfortable amongst her peers when she herself had been so withdrawn as a child. It made her feel as though there was so much excitement ahead of her in life, and the path would present itself at her feet through her sheer will and magnetism.

But here, she was simply reminded of how much promise lay ahead for all of them, a new generation enjoying what was left of their childhoods - still yet to see what the world would hold for them or how the years would go by. It was so hopeful that it brought tears to her eyes.

“Mrs. Duplanchier!” The words had come from the schoolhouse porch, and Zelda had been so lost in her own thoughts that it took her a moment to realize they had been spoken by Violette’s teacher Mrs. Sullivan. “I’m glad to have caught you. Do you have a moment to speak before the bell rings?” 

Zelda fiddled her hands, nodding her head in nervous agreement. It took only a few seconds for the woman to walk down from the porch, but it was long enough to convince Zelda that her daughter was in trouble. She would have to reprimand her at least, or more likely, punish her. She began to panic, but before the fear could take hold Mrs. Sullivan stopped on the other side of the fence.

“I thought it might be beneficial for the children to try and get some sort of after school activity going. I know a number of the their fathers are either away on the road or out in California, as Violette’s is, and mother’s like yourself are overwhelmed in their absence. I was hoping an additional class may help ease the burden. A dance class, in particular, for the girls only, of course.”

Excited butterflies rose in Zelda's stomach, joining the chorus of hummingbirds in the schoolyard. “Dance? Do you - do you mean like ballet?”

The woman laughed quietly “One could call it that. Mostly ballet, mixed with what I’ve picked up from here and there over the years. I danced a bit before coming to teach here. Nothing professional by any stretch, but it will be nice to have reason to do it again.”

“Of course! She - she would be delighted. As would I.”

A bell sounded from above, prompting a dozen playing children to scurry from their posts to the ground below. The woman in front of her looked over her shoulder and smiled. "My apologies, Mrs. Duplanchier. I should help the children gather their belongings. And please, feel free to tell Violette. You were the last mother I needed to speak with so if she’s interested we can meet thrice a week starting next Monday.”

The bell overhead continued to ring, sounding in time to her heels as they walked away. Zelda watched her go, her own question gnawing at her mind as she bit her nails.

She gazed over her shoulder, looking at the courthouse reflecting the late afternoon sun. She tried to walk by it most days, admiring its stately columns and remembering the welcome it had given them when they arrived. It never seemed to change, despite all that had come and gone since then.

"Mrs. - Mrs. Sullivan?" The woman turned quickly, slowing her footsteps just long enough to allow Zelda to speak. "Has the book truck been by yet?"

"Why, yes. Did Violette mention it?"

Zelda kept her hands behind her back, hoping the other woman couldn't sense her nerves. "She did. But I - I was wondering if you had a chance to speak to the man who drives the truck? Goes by Mr. Barnes, I believe."

Mrs. Sullivan slowed to a stop and raised a curious eyebrow. "We didn't have much time to speak, what with the children's questions and excitement, but he mentioned that he was working out of the courthouse. Something about a government contract? But I couldn't tell you much more, my apologies."

As the sound of running children disappeared inside the schoolhouse, Zelda turned where she stood, taking a few timid steps across the sidewalk as she looked at the courthouse. Alexander Barnes, Librarian. Surely it wouldn’t be any harm for her to speak with him, just to see what this contract was or to understand more about the truck itself. Why was she putting so much hope onto this? Turning it into something it probably wouldn’t never be. It was foolish. Like any other daydream.

"Momma?" Zelda spun around, dropping down to Violette's level as soon as she realized she had been lost in her own thoughts again. "Hello, little flower. How was school?"

Violette rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, like she was impatient to ask what was really on her mind. "It was fine. I won at hopscotch again."

"Did you! Well that's very - "

"It was." Her response was short, sending cold, quiet daggers into Zelda's heart. "It's - it's two weeks until Poppa comes home, right?"

"Oh, my love. Not quite." Violette looked down as her mother spoke, frustration and disappointment darkening her young face; because almost without realizing, she had lost the count. "I told you not to count the days. It only makes them go by slower. Trust me, okay? Besides, I think I have something that may help..."

Zelda rose to her feet, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulder and turning her full attention away from the courthouse just across the street. As they made their way home Zelda explained what Mrs. Sullivan had proposed, Violette’s face brightening every step of the way.

Previous / Next

[mnnuni]

Not just sex

Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: Jay and reader live the evolution of their relationship Warnings: smut Words: 2491 Author's note: I actually don't know if i like the ending and I think there may be some typos, sorry

"I swear to you, the chief's face at that" (Y/N) was practically crying while she told the story "Otis was covered in flour from head to toe, we never understood how it happen"

"Because he's an idiot sweetheart" Hermann said while passing her table and handing her the beer she ordered; she pointed at him "very true, but still"

Jay loved seeing her laughing so much.

"wait wait wait" Adam was chuckling too, "if it was just flour, why did you hear a- how did you said it?"

"a BOOM" she moved her hands to simulate an explosion. She knew he was only asking her to make fun of her, but she laughed at that too.

They were all hanging out at Molly's, as per usual; everyone talking with everyone, about everything, bit (Y/N) could only think of how amazingly blue were Jay's eyes in front of her;

At some point during the evening, (Y/N) send Capp to the smiling blondie across the bar -Lord knew he needed to get laid and that woman was willing on doing it-

Just half an hour later Adam and Kim disappeared too, and they left (Y/N) and Jay alone. The tension was palpable.

They didn't last long like that, swirling their beers through their fingers, looking at each other... (Y/N) hoped noone could notice the true intentions under their eyes, Jay thought they were so obvious with their glances that everyone knew about them and were only waiting for them to confirm anything. Either way, when they got to that point of the night, neither could care less of anything other than each other.

(Y/N) got up to announce she was going to head home but Jay caught her arm, he brought her near him pretending to hug her goodbye to whisper "I'll take you home" and lightly bite her ear; he did it so naturally that noone noticed, but the goosebumps (Y/N) got from just that...

She tried to contain herself, to walk normally through the bar and act like she wasn't going to scream Jay's name in a few minutes but Jay took her hand the moment they stepped out of the bar.

It was so natural.

Too natural. (Y/N) left it and began to walk to the cars, Jay scoffed but was smiling at her.

When they got in Jay's car the air shifted in an awkwardness that didn't belong to them; (Y/N) had a feeling Jay wanted to kiss her and couldn't comprehend why he wasn't doing it. Jay really really wanted to kiss her, but maybe rushing things wasn't a good idea: he didn't want "just sex" with her, and she had to understand it.

Jay leaned over and turned the radio on, "oh my God I love this song" (Y/N) beamed and started to sing. She was so fucking beautiful like this: comfortable and happy in Jay's presence. He loved it. At the chorus of the second song, Jay finally put his hand on her thigh. He could practically feel the internal battle that (Y/N) was fighting between giving in or pretend his touch didn't affect her so much. Jay loved this too.

"I have to say, I really want to stay the night tonight"

It was a simple sentence, but from the way he put it (Y/N) knew it was more than that. He didn't say "I want sex and you're the only one who wants it with me" -which (Y/N) swore multiple times that wasn't true and that there was a very long line of women anywhere he was- no, he wanted to let her know that she made him hard with just a look and he couldn't even think to rest his hands from her but was more than happy to just sleep in the same bed if that's what she wanted.

Don't get her wrong, (Y/N) wanted to jump his bones off, but tease him like this was so fun... So she pretended he didn't say anything and kept signing until they got to her apartment.

She kept her act going smiling at him and kissing his cheek as a thank you for getting her home, she got out of the car and started walking to her flat.

It got him the time that (Y/N) arrived to her door to show up, while she was searching for the keys she felt his hands on her waist. "Took you long enough" she looked up at him and finally looked him in the eyes again. Jay didn't let her say anything else, slamming his lips to hers and devouring her on her porch. When she felt his tongue pushing at her lips she couldn't control herself anymore and opened her mouth to let him do whatever he liked. In their little bubble of hands and mouths they forgot where they were and only returned to reality when (Y/N)'s keys fell from her hands and made a noise. The pair got away from eachother, Jay got the keys and opened the door but it was (Y/N) that pushed him inside and blocked him at the door to kiss him again.

Jay pushed her away with his hands on her waist, (Y/N) was ready to have sex on her couch but he had other plans. He lifted her shirt and turned her around, flashing her back to his chest and while he kissed her neck gently and unbuttoned her jeans he guided her to her bedroom.

When (Y/N) turned to look at him, Jay was shirtless too and was pushing her to the bed to make her sit.

He was so handsome.

He left her in her underwear and was gently pushing her legs apart now, he got on his knees and started kissing and biting her thighs. (Y/N)'s breath stopped in her throat when Jay got to her panties, grabbed them with his teeth and proceeded to take them away with his mouth.

He had a wonderful mouth.

"So wet for me". He knew it was only for him, but liked the reminder. (Y/N) settled on her elbows to look at him better but when he finally licked a stripe she closed her eyes and put a hand in his hair. Jay kept licking her up and down until he heard a whimper and knew it was the moment to start sucking on her clit and massaging her lips with his fingers;

"Jay" she breathed out, he was looking at her through his lashes and she clenched at his look. He entered her with both fingers and (Y/N) moaned again; Jay was fucking smirking on her her pussy. When she tightened her grasp on his hair Jay became a hungry man and devoured her all, "please don't stop".

Oh he would never...

(Y/N) was a mess of moans and screams and Jay wanted so desperately to cume with her, but she was the priority now.

"I-I'm" she couldn't resist anymore, "I know baby" a suck "let it all go" a pump of his fingers "cum for me baby" a last lick. And then it all went away because (Y/N) was a panting wreck and Jay was eating her orgasm out until she calmed down.

When she slumped on her back on the mattress Jay slowed down and started to clean her, slowly, gently and kissing every part of her now red pussy.

After he was done he got up, took off his jeans and boxer and lay down with her. He didn't expect to do anything else, he just wanted to be near her and feel her. (Y/N) turned to him and smiled, she got closer and whispered a content "hi", Jay chuckled at her "hi baby".

Looking at him in all his naked glory, after an orgasm, made her want more, (Y/N) bit her lip and got even closer "I want you". Jay thought she was even hotter when she spoke her desire out loud, but he also knew that her pussy's lips were swollen "you sure?", she travelled her hand from his chest to his dick. (Y/N) squeezed his tip making him hiss, "positive".

Jay smiled and turned to her nightstand to pick a condom while (Y/N) kissed his back and caressed his shoulders. When he got back he already opened the package but she stopped him, "what- something wrong?" she shook her head "I want to do it". She already got the envelope in her hands and Jay's eyebrows never shot up so fast, "if-if you're okay with it", Jay seemed to come back to earth "I-I-I- of course!" she smiled "you're so fucking hot" he confessed kissing her again. While they kissed (Y/N) picked the condom and slowly unraveled it on Jay, he moaned in her mouth and swore he never experienced something hotter.

They lay back on the bed and Jay started to grind on her, "don't tease" she hissed and he smiled.

He loved to tease her.

Jay entered at a slow pace, he wanted to feel every inch of her stretch to his dick. (Y/N) wanted to scream from the first instant he started to move, but she put her hand on her mouth to muffle her noises. Jay didn't agree. He put her hands on top of her head and purred in her ears at the sign "I want to hear you while I fuck you". She would definitely moan now.

Jay on top was so good: he kissed her neck and mumbled dirty things in her ears. And he had so much control of his thrusts, he could almost hit her g spot.

But (Y/N) wanted to be in charge too. It was her on top now and she loved how one of Jay's hands was on her hip and the other on her breast, flicking and squeezing her nipple from time to time. When she was on top they both were a mess of moans and grunts because she was able to grind her clit too and Jay loved the sight of her tits so near his face when she jumped up and down. This time (Y/N) swore Jay didn't moan, he said "I love you". She stopped for a second.

Nahh it couldn't be.

"Jay I-" her movements were becoming sloppy, Jay put both his hands on her hips to steady her "I know baby, I know". She couldn't keep it anymore, so Jay pushed her back on the bed and started to thrusts into her so hard they were both screaming. When Jay came he didn't stop until (Y/N) closed her eyes and finally let go.

After some moments he gently pulled out of her and let her breathe. He threw away the condom and got his boxers again; (Y/N) was happily watching him go around in her room to find her "sleeping t-shirt" from the bed. He sat on the bed again and put it on her, kissing every part of her during the process.

"You okay?"

He always asked her after. She always said "more than okay" and then she stretched her arms to him to make him hug her and sleep with her. He didn't need the grabby hands, he would have done it anyway, but Jay loved seeing her so cozy around him.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay Halstead slept so well that night and had a wonderful breakfast with (Y/N) the following morning that he didn't realise what he did up until he heard Adam whisper "I love you" to Kim before she left for a few hours the precinct.

"Oh shit"

Yeah he screwed up big time.

"What?", Adam was already laughing at his face, Antonio was rather concerned instead "what'd you do Halstead?" "I told (Y/N) I love her". He didn't realise what he'd done now either, he was too in shock. Nobody knew about them and he just confessed his love to everyone.

"You did what?" , Antonio's concern shifted to confusion; that seemed to shake Jay to reality "Um-", then they started with the questions "(Y/N) as in (Y/N) (Y/L/N)? The firefighter?" "How long have you two been seeing eachother?" "I knew there was something when-"

"Halstead"

He never thanked God enough for the call from Voight, "Sarge?" "I need you at the 51, Boden already knows what I need, go talk to him", yeah and that's why he didn't thank him.

Adam burst out laughing at Jay's petrified face, "is there a problem, Halstead?" "No Sarge".

He got up and started going like he was doing the walk of shame.

Now Antonio's expression was one of pure amusement.

When he finally arrived at the firestatione, everyone was there. Perfect, he thought, he was gonna embarass himself in front of a platoon of firefighters whithout them even understanding why. He tried to act as cool as possible, asking Severide to see their chief and everything was going smoothly. That was untill he passed Boden's door and saw (Y/N) sat on the couch in the chief's office.

"Ah Detective, I know why you're here", Boden started the search for some documents and Jay could only look at (Y/N); she nodded and saluted him with a short "detective" and a smirk.

Jay wanted to be swallowed by the abyss of the Earth.

Boden handed him two folders and thanked him for the help his unit was giving him to... something- he didn't really listen to anything other than his thoughts.

"Can I talk to you?" he asled (Y/N) when he was sure Boden had finished. She was rather confused but agreed nonetheless; (Y/N) led him to the lockers to be sure of have some privacy. She sat on a bench and he sat next to her, (Y/N) couldn't understand why Jay wasn't looking her in the eyes...

She took his hand to shake him from the visible spiral he was getting himself into and made him look at her.

Three seconds had passed, only three seconds and Jay exploded just because he finally looked at her "I love you"

(Y/N) felt the world stopping, the floor under her feet collapsing and the sky opening.

HE WHAT?

"I'm sorry, I imagined saying it in other circumstances but just before coming down here I realized I actually told you yesterday- which is even more terrible, I am so sorry, telling such a thing while you're on top of me is so... but it slipped and now that i saw you I couldn't wait anymore because I-I feel like I ruined everything"

(Y/N) couldn't decide if she was going to cry or laugh at his face.

"You love me?"

Jay wanted to crawl on the floor and never see the light again, but then he saw her tearing eyes and little smile of amusement and breathed a sigh of relief; "yes, (Y/N). I love you so much"

Yeah now she was crying for real.

She jumped at his neck and kissed him with an emotion he though he never felt.

"I love you Jay Halsted".

[believemedarlin]

The Perfect Man

Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader (3.9k words) Also available on AO3

Summary:

“You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”

“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.

Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued

***

A drunken night out with the girls leads to some interesting revelations.

***

“Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.”

A round of groans sounded from the table, but Penelope Garcia was not to be dissuaded. 

“Come on, ladies. It’ll be fun!”

Her best puppy dog eyes firmly in place, Penelope implored her friends and coworkers with a practiced look. You were holding strong until she brought out the big guns and pouted at you.

A mere ten seconds later you caved. 

“Okay, fine,” You sighed. “But can we use kick instead of kill? I always hated that option. Why do you have to kill them when kicking would be just as effective in showing your lack of interest? No death required.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Penelope immediately agreed with a nod. “You know I’m a pacifist at heart.”

She turned to the other two women seated at the table, pout back in full force. JJ gave in first, patting Penelope’s hand with an indulgent smile and a nod. 

Seeing that she was outnumbered, Emily shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll need another drink if we’re doing this. I haven’t played this since college.”

“I’ll get us all another round.” Penelope jumped to her feet to join her and they made their way to the bar, weaving through the other patrons.

It was a rare Friday night off and the women of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had decided to go out for a much-needed night of ladies-only fun and frivolity. They had happily left the guys to sort out their evenings and escaped the second the clock struck five.

They were all a few drinks in at this point, which is most likely the reason Penelope had suggested the game. She always got a bit playful when she drank.

They returned a few minutes later, fresh drinks in hand. 

Once settled, Penelope leaned in, an eager smile on her face. “Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kick. Henry Cavill, Ben Barnes, Zachary Levi. And go!”

Emily took a sip of her drink and wasted no time in voicing her choices, followed by JJ and you. You took turns coming up with more and more outlandish options, and pleasantly spent the next hour drinking and laughing with your friends.

You had just finished giggling over Penelope’s reasoning behind her choosing to kick Willy Wonka and marry Jareth the Goblin King so she could enjoy a night with Conan the Barbarian when Emily leaned in with a smirk.

“I’ve got a good one. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.”

The table erupted in a chorus of ooohs and laughter. 

JJ bit her lip in thought. “Okay, since we know them personally and I’m a happily taken woman, I’m going to change mine to kiss, because it’s weird to say I want to fuck any of them. So, uh, I’ll go with kiss Morgan, marry Reid, and kick Hotch. But only barely, because I do not want him angry with me.”

“Easy,” Penelope chirped. “Fuck Morgan, marry Morgan, and kick Reid and Hotch.”

You, JJ, and Emily burst into laughter, with JJ swatting Penelope on the arm. “You can’t double up like that!”

“Can too! My game, my rules. Besides, it’s special circumstances with Morgan as an option.”

Emily snorted, then grinned. “Hmm. I think I’d go with fuck Morgan, marry Hotch, and kick Reid.”

All eyes then turned to you as you stared into your drink, taking entirely too long as you overthought the options.

Eventually, Emily cleared her throat and you looked up to see her watching you expectantly.

“What?” You grinned sheepishly with a shrug. “It’s harder than you’d think!”

The ladies teased you good-naturedly until you finally said, “Okay, okay! Um, I think…” 

You blew out a breath in a long sigh. “Fuck Reid, marry Hotch, kick Morgan. No wait… Maybe fuck Hotch, marry Reid?”

Emily and JJ cackled while Penelope put on a fake offended air. “Why you gotta kick my beloved cinnamon hot chocolate Adonis not once, but twice? He’s the perfect man!”

"I mean, a lot of women would think that, yeah, but not me.”

Penelope gasped and pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “Why, I never.”

You giggled with a shrug. “Sorry?” 

“You’re forgiven.”

“What I want to know,” JJ chimed in with a mischievous grin, “is why you can’t decide between Reid and Hotch on who to marry?”

You buried your face in your hands to hide your blush. “I don’t know! Both seem like solid choices. I think they’d both make good husbands.”

Emily smirked. “Sure it wasn’t because you couldn’t decide which you’d rather fuck?”

Penelope and JJ burst into laughter again while you groaned into your hands.

“You all are menaces. I don’t know why I spend time with you.”

“Because we’re wonderful people and you love us.”  Penelope teased.

“That’s debatable.” You mumbled.

“Oh, come on,” she leaned into your side and laid her head on your shoulder. “You know you adore us.” Penelope batted her eyes and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah, I do.”

She cheered and called for another round of drinks.

The game wound down and devolved into a rather extensive list of men and women that each of the ladies wouldn’t mind enjoying some personal one-on-one time with.

You had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the past few minutes, chin in hand and elbow on the table, your mind pondering on something Penelope had said earlier. Your voice took on a contemplative tone as you mused aloud, “You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”

“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.

Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued.

“Okay, just hear me out. Now, granted, everyone’s idea of the perfect man is different but for me… If we go by physical attributes first, you have to admit that each guy is objectively attractive on their own. I mean seriously, was it a prerequisite that everyone has to be outrageously good-looking to be a member of the team?”

The ladies heartily agreed with laughter and nods, but you gestured across the table to them. “I’m including you three in this too. Have you looked at yourselves? You’re all absolutely gorgeous.”

“Damn right, we are,” Emily exclaimed as she high-fived JJ.

You raised your glass to her and took a sip before expanding on your premise. “So by themselves, each man is handsome but combined…”

You tilt your head in thought. “For me, it would be Reid’s hair. I’ve always liked longer hair on a guy and have you seen those curls when he lets it grow out? And then add in Hotch and Rossi’s dark hair and … yeah. Next would be Morgan and Rossi’s facial hair. I don’t know about you ladies but I like a man with a bit of scruff, you know what I mean? Goatee or full beard or just a couple of days growth, hell even a good five o’clock shadow, as long as it’s maintained and not all scraggly, I like it. Oooh, remember when Hotch came back with a beard?

“Yeah,” you sighed, a bit more dreamily than you had intended, surely caused by the late hour and not the memory of a casually dressed, bearded Hotch. “Like that.”

All three ladies shared a knowing look, but you paid them no mind. 

“Though there is something to be said about a freshly shaved face. It’s so soft…” You sighed again.

“And then there’s height.” You knew you were rambling, but with the alcohol fueling you, there was little chance of stopping you now. “They’re all at least 6 foot so the height difference is perfect for both cuddles and forehead kisses.”

At this, Emily snorted. “Forehead kisses?”

“Yes,” you snipped primly. “They are the pinnacle of non-lip-to-lip kisses and they are my favorite thing. They just make you feel so adored. Now shush.”

You shooed her and rested your chin back in your hand. “Let’s see… Eyes. Honestly, I think they all have lovely eyes. I’m not picky on eye color really but I think Hotch’s stand out the most to me. I mean, have you seen his eyelashes? It should be criminal for a man to have such beautiful eyelashes.”

Another round of nods and hummed agreements sounded from the table.

“You know,” you continue with barely a pause, “I’ve never been a fan of really buff dudes, which sorry Pen, but that’s kinda why poor Morgan got kicked twice.” You shrugged unapologetically at her. 

“I’ve always preferred lean guys. Not scrawny but not bugling out his shirt, you know? Strong but not shoved in your face. But!” You sit straighter in your chair, index finger raised to emphasize your point. “That’s just looks. Personality-wise, I’m drawn to kindness first and our boys all have that in spades. And they each show it in different ways, but it’s always present.”

You met Penelope’s eyes. “And Morgan’s kindness absolutely overrides his excessive muscle mass. He’s honestly one of the kindest people I know, even if he’d deny it. He’s not humble about a lot of things, but he is about that.”

Your eyes dropped to the table as your finger ran along the wood grain. “I also like intelligence and while yes, first thoughts go to Reid, the others are all brilliant too. Like, Rossi is so wise! It seems like he always knows what’s going on with someone before anyone else, and always seems to know just what to say just when you need to hear it. And they each have strengths that I admire. I genuinely like each of them as a person and I’m proud to know them and am honored they consider me a friend. Honestly, I feel that way about all of you.”

“Aw!” Penelope sniffled. “That’s so sweet. We love you too, you know.”

You gave her hand a quick squeeze and took another sip of your drink. 

“What about lips?”

You blinked at JJ. “Lips? I’m not sure. I don’t know that I look at them much.”

Emily tilted her head. “You seriously don’t look at men’s lips?”

“Not really? I mean, I notice smiles. And honestly, how did I not start with that? It’s usually one of the first things I notice about someone. Smiles make everyone look twice as attractive. Oh, and a sense of humor! Gotta love a man who can make you laugh.”

“This one is definitely Morgan,” Emily chimed in and you nodded in agreement while Penelope raised her glass.

“Absolutely. He always makes me laugh, but so do the others. Rossi is snarky, which I appreciate as a fellow snarker. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s made me hold back a laugh during a round table. Reid can be really funny, too. Especially when we’re making Star Trek or Doctor Who references that no one else gets. Except you, Pen, but you’re usually in your lair. And Hotch—”

“No,” Emily cut in. “No way you think he’s funny. The man barely smiles.”

You tsked and leaned in, your tone turning a bit haughty. “First of all, I think it’s a good thing that he holds those back because have you seen how handsome he is when he smiles? His whole face transforms and he has dimples. Dimples . It’s ridiculous and no one would be able to focus on work if he was blinding us with his smile all the time. And secondly, yes. He’s hilarious, actually. He has a dry sense of humor that gets me every time. And he is so straight-faced about it. I laughed embarrassingly loud once at something he said and I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop giggling. And the man had the nerve to be smug about it later.”

You shook your head with exasperated fondness, not noticing the raised eyebrows and pointed looks the other ladies were sharing.

“Anyway,” You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Morgan is my biggest supporter, Reid nerds out with me, Rossi gives the best advice, and Hotch makes me feel safe. All things that would attract me to someone. So, with their powers combined…” You spread your hands in a sweeping motion. “The perfect man.”

“Huh,” Penelope hummed. “You know, I kinda see it.”

“See?” You grinned triumphantly. “We really do work with amazing guys.”

A cry of ‘hear, hear’ sounded around the table and the four of you leaned in to clink glasses.

Emily settled back in her chair with a smirk, her eyes focused on you. “Okay, you waxed poetic about the guys. Now, what about us?”

You grinned. “You, my darling lady loves, all hold a special place in my heart. There’s no way I could choose. You are each the perfect woman.”

Another cheer went up and everyone downed their drinks, laughing merrily.

The outing wound down about half an hour later. You each stumbled your way outside, Emily and Penelope deciding to share a taxi.

You stood with JJ as you waved the other two goodbye; you waiting for your own taxi and JJ waiting for Will to pick her up.

“You know,” she said conversationally, her eyes on the street. “You mentioned Hotch quite a few times describing your perfect man.”

You blinked. “What? I did not.”

She turned to you with a wide grin. “Oh yes, you did. No denying it now.”

You sputtered, not sure how to reply.

She chuckled and laid a hand on your arm, just as your taxi arrived. “Seems to me like he ticks quite a few of the boxes for your perfect man.” She leaned in to whisper, “So what are you going to do about it?”

JJ winked as she stepped back to open the door of the car that pulled in behind your taxi and slid in. “Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded numbly, mechanically climbing into the back seat of the taxi while Will and JJ patiently waited to make sure you were safely on your way.

You mumbled out your address and barely noticed the drive home, arriving much sooner than expected, as your mind was focused on JJ’s words.

You shook your head as you entered your apartment, determined to think no more of it. It was just a silly statement born out of one too many drinks.

There was no way you thought of Hotch that way.

No way at all.

***

The rest of the weekend was miraculously quiet and work-free. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much time to yourself, so you took full advantage of it.

As days off always tended to do, they flew by too quickly and Monday morning arrived before you were ready for it. You greeted everyone when you entered the department, nodding to Rossi and waving at Morgan and Penelope as you settled in at your desk.

No new case had come in, so today would be an in-office day catching up on paperwork and caseloads.

You were productive throughout the day, completing most of the pending work assigned to you, and you were feeling quite accomplished with the diminishing stack in your inbox.

Only a few minutes remained in the workday when you stood from your chair, stretching your stiff back, and made your way up the stairs to Hotch’s office to drop off an armful of completed reports.

You knocked on his door, only having to wait a second before he bid you enter.

He was focused on the open file in front of him and he didn’t look up until you spoke. “These are ready for you to review, Hotch.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours before dropping to the folders in your arms. He gestured to the corner of his desk nearest you and went back to scribbling notes on the report. “You can just leave them there, thank you.”

You set them down next to another stack and grimaced. There were multiple bundles of files littering his desk. While in-office days were great for clearing your desk of work, it unfortunately always added to Hotch’s workload.

“Looks like everyone had similar offerings for you today. Will you be able to leave at a reasonable hour tonight? I’d be happy to help with anything if you need it.”

Hotch finished the line he was writing and looked up at you through his long lashes, a small, shy kind of smile curving his lips. His cheeks were just a touch pinker than usual and you blinked because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.

He looked almost bashful, a word you would never have associated with Aaron Hotchner.

But damn, was it a good look on him. He really was a handsome man, wasn’t he? Kind, funny, successful, and a great father. He was practically the perfect man.

You froze and blinked again at the realization.

“Oh, uh,” his deep voice broke you from your thoughts. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it covered. I shouldn’t be here too much longer.”

“Right, of course.” You nodded and prayed he couldn’t see the blush you knew was rapidly spreading across your face. “Well, good night, sir.” 

You spun on your heel and opened the door, ready to flee as fast as your feet could carry you.

His low, murmured good night followed you out the door and you nearly shivered because holy hell, even his voice was attractive.

You quickly grabbed your things and nearly sprinted to the elevators, not wanting to stay one second longer around skilled profilers who could read you so easily, knowing they would spot your flushed cheeks instantly and want to know what caused them. Or worse, they’d already know, and that was not something you were ready to discuss with any of them at the moment.

You had fully intended on ignoring JJ’s words from Friday night, but after your reaction just now, you knew she was right.

Hotch was pretty damn close to fitting the idea of your perfect man.

Or maybe, the idea of your perfect man came from Hotch.

You sighed as you entered the thankfully empty elevator, finally admitting to yourself the truth that had been staring you in the face for longer than you’d ever care to admit.

You had it bad for Aaron Hotchner.

Oh, you were in so much trouble.

***

Aaron watched as you left his office, your face a delightful shade of pink.

His eyes followed as you rushed to your desk, snatched up your things, and darted out the door.

He hadn’t meant to overhear Prentiss and Garcia’s conversation that morning as they reminisced over their night out last Friday. He certainly hadn’t meant to linger when they mentioned you and your adorable—according to Garcia—rant about the perfect man. And he most certainly hadn’t meant to lean in rather eagerly when they whispered about just how many times his name had come up as an example during said rant.

He had been pleasantly surprised and somewhat stunned by the information. He’d never thought of himself as an ideal for the perfect man. 

Sure, he supposed he had a few attributes that some women might find appealing. He had a successful career and tried to keep in shape, though that was more for his job than vanity.

But he never imagined that anyone would look at him and think that he was a paradigm of their perfect man. Least of all you.

You were a brilliant profiler, exceptional in the field and able to hold your own in a fight when needed, but you were also caring with the victims and their families. You were witty and kind and easygoing. You were someone who smiled freely and laughed readily and did your best to cheer and encourage the team on tough cases.

Not someone who would think of stoic, hardass Aaron Hotchner as the perfect man.

Still, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from drifting to the window of his office throughout the day, seeking you out.

He thought back to when you joined the BAU and how quickly you became not only an essential part of the team but a much-welcomed member of their little family. Everyone adored you and Aaron himself had to admit that you had wormed your way into his heart.

He loved the time he got to spend with you when the team got together to unwind after a case and the little moments of levity you all shared in between working. He recalled the times he managed to make you laugh and the occasions where he found himself chuckling as well. You were easy to talk to and more often than not, the two of you fell into conversation whenever everyone else was either asleep or preferred to be left alone on the jet going to and from cases.

He genuinely enjoyed your company and found himself wishing he could enjoy it more often.

His eyes wandered to the bullpen again, zeroing in on you almost immediately. Prentiss and Morgan were standing by your desk when one of them said something that made you laugh.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth opened to release an enchanting sound of delight. Aaron couldn’t look away and had to admit that you really were quite lovely. Inside and out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat looking at you but knew it was longer than appropriate. He shook his head and forced himself to focus back on his work.

He managed to shove all thoughts of you from his mind for the remainder of the day until a soft knock sounded on his door late in the afternoon.

He didn’t bother to look up from the report he was notating after giving a gruff come in until he heard your voice.

Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes from darting up to meet yours before dropping them to the large stack of files in your arms.

He gestured for you to place them on the corner of his desk next to the ones Reid had deposited earlier and thought that would be his singular interaction with you for the day.

But then your caring side came out again and you sweetly offered to help him, a proposition that both filled him with fondness and nervousness.

After all his wayward thoughts about you throughout the day, he wasn’t sure if being in close proximity with you was a good idea or not. 

Aaron looked up at you again, the late afternoon sun enveloping you, enhancing your features, and his only thought was that he’d been wrong earlier. 

You weren’t just lovely. You were stunning.

In that moment, he was completely captivated by you and his thoughts ran rampant as he cataloged every minute detail of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your brilliance, and all the little things that made you you . Everything that endeared you to him.

But his thoughts came to a crashing halt when he realized that he was staring at you. He felt his face flush and he stammered as he gently declined your help.

You bid him a good night, but Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the spreading blush on your cheeks. It kept his attention until you were out of sight.

He blinked and dropped his eyes back to the forgotten report in front of him, a slow smile creeping across his face.

He may not have meant to overhear the conversation that caused him to think about you all day, but he was starting to be glad he had. It seemed it was all he needed to face a few truths he had been in denial about for a long while now.

He was completely and utterly smitten with you.

Now, he just had to decide what to do about it. 

Aaron sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

[jirishnesensei]

geto suguru x reader | college au [18+]

offscript ch.1 be my lead

༺ Pairing. college au - volleyball player! geto x cinematography major! reader (f)

༺ summary - In the chaotic world of college life, you should have expected your drama production to turn south as fast as it did. When your lead actor drops out just weeks before the play, you’re left scrambling to salvage the show that means everything to you. Enter Geto Suguru—talented, charming, and the last person you’d expect to help. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and you find yourself convincing him to step into the spotlight.

༺ warnings/tags - 18+, fluff, angst, smut, fem reader, romance, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers (I guess strangers to friends to lovers), acting, college au, alcohol/drugs, injury, unrequited love, jealousy, Geto is bad at feelings, swearing

༺ status - ongoing

༺ chapters - 1/x

༺ word count - 4.6k

"You belong with me. You've always belonged with me." Emi cried. Her hand is clutched to her heart, and her voice trembles, afraid that her confession may push him away.

Kazuki looks between both her eyes with such yearning. He lifts his hand slowly and sweet, cupping her tear stained cheek as though she were some figment of his imagination.

"I love -"

The actor froze. He swallows thickly, changing his weight between both his legs, then said more assertively, "I love." You clutch your pen when he starts hesitating. What is he doing?

The stage grew quiet, waiting for his line. You glance at the script in your hand anxiously, then back at him, where his eyes are flickering around the hall anxiously before settling on you. You mouth the line for him, confused because his said it a million times. He looks back at the actress in front of him and suddenly you notice how his eyes darkened. The hand that held her cheek became more rough while his mouth frowns into a deep, personal scowl. You could tell his eyes no longer bore weight to the scripts words.

"Fuck you."

The hall audibly gasps in a chorus, nevermind he had a mini microphone attached to his cheek.

The next second the lecturer is up in arms. Your friend Mai beside you looks at the script to see if there were any line changes she didn't know about, but of course there wasn't.

Cecilia, the actress, has her lips parted just barely in a trembling frown. What you assume to be real tears start streaming down her face as she watches Jean, your actor and her boyfriend, drop the script to the floor, jump off the stage and grab his bag, beelining it straight for the doors.

"What the hell is his problem?" Your friend Mai stands abruptly beside you amidst the chaos. She glares at Jean, then rounds the table and goes straight for Cecilia and you? Well, you wish you could say you had just an inkling of moral to check up on her, but the only realization managing to bypass your conscious is the fact that your only male lead is speeding towards the exit door.

"Wait!" You try to catch up to him but he starts walking faster when you call, so you run to his side and grip his arm desperately. "Jean, just wait. Talk to me, what the hell happened?" You look between both his eyes for some kind of answer but now that you were in front of him, the entrance light beaming down the rows of seats, you could just make out the tears that were brimming in his eyes and I don't know, there's just something about men crying that gets you feeling like you're about to cry yourself.

"She cheated." He suddenly says, as if it were physically hurting him to pull those words out of his throat.

your eyes widen, and it's the first time you stop thinking about your play. "she...she what?"

"She fucking cheated," He says again, laughing pitifully as he now aggressively wipes his palm against his cheek over and over to the point where it was turning pink. "And you wanna know with who?"

You fumble a couple filler words, expecting him to be rhetorical, but no, he wanted an actual answer. "C'mon, guess." he says, "There's only a few people worth fucking over a 4 year relationship for."

You flinch at his tone, "I don't know."

"It was Geto. Geto fucking... I mean what the hell am I supposed to do when she cheats on me with a guy like that?"

He turns his head the second his voice cracks so you don't notice, but the damage was done, you could hear him sniffling and it made your heart crack into two uneven pieces.

"Shit...I'm..." You straighten up, standing there awkwardly now as he tries to stop himself from crying in front of you. The name he mentions is not foreign to you. Probably not foreign to anybody, really. Geto Suguru. An amazing athlete, the campuses star setter. Of course you can't win against a guy like that. Which makes your comfort options pretty limited in the moment.

"...Jean I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter." He shakes your arm off that you didn't even realize was still holding onto him, then he turns, half ready to leave you with a problem bigger than you've possibly ever experienced. "I'm sorry, but I can't be in this show anymore."

As someone who does theatre work as her major, emotions were something you learned to pick up on pretty easily and Jeans... you actually felt worried standing before him with just how unpredictable he looked, so you take a step back and nod sympathetically. In hindsight, casting a couple as your two main leads was a pretty stupid decision on your part.

"I understand."

Then he leaves. Without another word. Slamming the doors against the wall and leaving it swinging in his wake. When he's out of sight, your mind starts to pick up on all the commotion that's happening behind you. Cecilia is a crying mess on top of the stage, and everybody is out of their positions trying to comfort her or get the tea on what really happened. 

"Hey, what did he tell you?" Your friend Mai finally jogs over, concern written all over her face. You link your hands behind your neck and sigh.

"We just lost our lead."

---

you cancel the rest of the session. Having no lead made it immensely difficult for you to continue so you pack your bag with your script and belongings uncaringly. Most people have already left except for Mai, but someone walks up to you and you could feel yourself teetering the edge of breaking down.

"I don't know when the next rehearsal will be."

"It's me." Your hands freeze mid stuffing your jacket inside to look up and find Cecilia standing before you. Her eyes are all red and puffy, faded lines of mascara running down her cheeks. You'd think she was the one that got cheated on. You straighten up and gesture to the chair beside you.

"Do you want to sit?" You offer but she shakes her head. 

"I just-" she takes a deep breath in, ringing her hands together nervously. "I just wanted to apologize to you. Formally. I really messed up and-" out of nowhere she starts bursting into tears again and it took you a few seconds to properly register it before you quickly walked around your table to offer her a consoling hand.

"shshsh, you really don't have to explain."

Mai was a ways to the side, noticing your little predicament, so she gave a sympathetic look then continued to close up the stage for you. You mouth a 'thank you' to her from over Cecelia's shoulder before settling back on her shaking figure.

"But aren't you angry with me?" Cece is now wailing into her palms. You try and soothe her by rubbing her back, but it didn't seem to offer much, so you stretch over the table to your tote bag and grab the mini tissue packet for her. She takes it and really goes at it, "I fucked up so bad (y/n), like royally fucked up, and now I ruined your show too. I know you worked so hard on it-"

"Its fine cece." You squeeze her shoulders and bend down a little to look into her eyes. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Do you think I don't have a replacement?"

she then sniffles, lifting her head up like some kicked down puppy. "I thought you said you didn't prepare for one?..."

you give her a reassuring smile with an added wink for extra confidence. "Ah, have a little more faith in me, yeah? This is the biggest show of my life, of course I prepared for one."

That seems to calm her down a little bit because she's not crying anymore, but still she wipes her eyes. Spreading her dried up mascara bits even more. "If I can do anything to help, anything at all, please just let me know." 

You narrow your eyes at her, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "You should just go home and rest. I'll call you when rehearsal starts up again."

She suddenly comes in for a tight hug and although you work with her, you don’t really know her personally, so you awkwardly return it with a few pats on the back but then you think she probably really needs it so you squeeze her plenty instead. When she thanks you and turns to leave, she stops mid-step debating if she should say something.

"um, did he... did he say anything to you when you stopped him?" She can't look into your eyes when she asks. You think it's probably out of guilt, who really knows, but there's this ugly feeling in your chest that makes you think that Jean was probably telling you the truth. You don't want to get into the middle of anything, though, so you shake your head.

"Just that you guys had some problems."

She nods with a forced smile then leaves the empty hall.

---

"Cheated?" Mai scoffs beside you as you and her walked along the colonnade outside campus, a disgusted expression on her face. "And I consoled her. What a witch. And even Geto, I didn't think he was that kinda guy. Shame on him for making a move on a taken woman!"

You weren't listening to much of what she said since you had your own problems to figure out. Like for one, who in the world was going to replace your lead.

"So what're you going to do?" Mai sighs looking over at you, then frowns when she sees how despondent you looked, poking at your ice cream in a cup that you bought from some fundraising group in the university. You think it's for the Volleyball team if you're not mistaken.

Despite having told Cece that you had a replacement for Jeans' role, you didn't actually have one. Something about nobody was good enough or whatever high horse reasoning you had at the time.

"do you think I could bribe Mr Sayako into giving me an extension?" You ask Mai and she shakes her head.

"Wouldn't work hun, this was already your extension, remember?"

"Okay sure, but what the hell? he saw what happened up there. How could I have planned for that?"

"I guess it's worth a shot, but what happens if he says no?"

You sigh again, taking a mouthful of your sugary treat and spoke through it. "Look for a washed-up new lead, I guess,"

"What? you're just going to give up?" 

"mm," You shake your head, taking the spoon out of your mouth so you could talk, "its not giving up. I'm accepting reality. There's a fundamental difference there, I read about it in an article once-"

"That's giving up." She sweatdrops, watching you juggle your envelope and ice cream in one hand while you fish in your back pocket for your phone.

"whatever." You say, taking it out and already looking for an Uber nearby so you can wallow in your bed with that entire bottle of wine you had planned on popping for your opening night, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. Mai then suddenly takes your shoulder, and it stops you from clicking accept.

"I have a crazy idea." She says. Looking ahead as if she can physically see the plan manifesting before her eyes. She's always had a habit of being pretty intriguing, so she peeked your interest enough to make you drop your arm, but you don't respond. "Why don't you ask Geto to be your lead?" 

You deadpan. Meh, sometimes she's just way off. "are you insane?" it seems the more seconds that go by the more she seems convinced that she actually thought of something brilliant. 

"Who isn't nowadays? Back to reality, I went to high school with him and he did a class play once and by the gods he was fucking phenomenal."

"a class play?" You repeat like the word was foreign to your tongue. 

"yeah!"

"Like informal and for marks?"

"Yeah? Why do I feel like you're being condescending."

you look at her funnily. "oh, is that the word?" you stuff your phone back into your pocket. "You can't possibly think because he was good in a class play he'd be good to act in front of an entire audience on a stage in make up and costume?"

"You're not listening to me!" She whines and shakes your shoulders. Her excessive persistence makes you groan, flailing your one unoccupied arm at her to push her away.

"he was irritatingly great! Like professional great! Every acting club begged for him to join, even I begged him once but he said no cause he was doing volleyball or whatever-" she stops talking when a sports committee student abruptly stops her and shoves a flyer into her hands while you continue to walk, "Sure, thanks," she absent-mindedly answers then catches up to you, "seriously, he was really good. I can guarantee you he would be much better than any random person you find now. With all the good actors taken he's your best shot."

You scoff, taking a spoon out of your ice cream again. "best shot..." you mutter. "ok fine, lets say he actually is as good as you say he is, what makes you think I can convince him?"

You give her a couple seconds so that the gears could turn in her head, but the disappointment never hits, and her expression changes like a lightbulb flashing yellow, "You can be very persuasive." Is her counterargument.

You raise a brow at her instead of answering, so she gives you one of her meanest, half-assed glares. "Why are you being so difficult right now?"

"Because I'm not in the mood to make a fool out of myself with someone I don't even know, not to mention incase you forgot, he is literally the reason my first lead quit on me!"

"and some people fuck their CEO to get a promotion!"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

She rolls her eyes impatiently.

"You have been trying to get picked up on your writing for years now. Are you seriously willing to just throw all that away just so you can say a couple of years down the line that you maintained your morals?" She looks at you genuinely concerned, and it makes you frown.

"I guess not..."

"Then you can't be thinking about everyone else's feelings (y/n). You do what you gotta do in this world. It's survival of the fittest. Someone else's drama shouldn't become your problem."

"But what if-"

"Zip it." She takes your ice cream and it makes you frown harder. "It's just one audition. I swear on my convertible you can pin the blame on me if shit hits the fan." 

You press your lips into a tight line and narrow your eyes at her. She does love that damn car...nothing you said would go through her thick skull, but admittedly, a part of you was already convinced. What more do you have to lose in a world full of vultures?

Mai glances down at the flyer in her hand and is about to throw it away when she gasps and starts to shove it in your face.

"You cannot tell me this isn't a sign!"

You send her an irritated look when she doesn't stop the shoving and forcibly pull the flyer out of her hand to read it. In clear-cut bold, it says:

Volleyball Team try-outs!

The gym will be closed for the next month in order to facilitate the try-outs and training of new team members.

Trials start on the 27th of May and ends on the 21st of June

Make the time and become a part of the Todai Volleyball team!

It was professionally designed with a team photo transparently printed behind the font, too. Geto so easily noticeable amongst the various other team members. It was a testiment to just how much the school adored their volleyball team, handing out these flyers to just about anybody that has a pair of hands, going off of the stack that was in that guys arms.

The date, however, was what interested you the most because it couldn't have been more perfect, giving Geto, if he had to agree, the perfect opportunity to help you out and not clash with his practices.

Mai gasps then, her line of sight just past your head. "Speak of the devil!" She grips your arm and forces your attention to the right. You feel your chest tighten when you see him in all his glory, Geto Suguru, and a few other guys you recognize as a part of the team around him. Geez, things seem to be aligning a little too perfectly here...

They just walked out of the econ building and you can already notice the attention they were bringing.

Mai is suddenly pushing against your back fervently. "Now's your chance, c'mon! Let's go!"

"What?!" You look back at her like she's gone mental. "Now? You want me to go now?" 

"When else?!"

"I didn't even prepare anything! Don't I only have one shot?!"

"Yes and this is it! You're the most persuasive when you don't overthink anything. Just ask him and don't be a pussy about it!"

She pushes you hard, and it's enough to get you to start walking his way anxiously, looking back at her enthusiastic smile as she gives you two thumbs up like a mum sending her child off to school.

You sigh pitifully, shaking your head. What in the world has your life come to? Just now you had the perfect cast, the perfect script, and now you're going to beg and grovel to someone you've never even spoken to before? you suppose, by some miracle if he's as good as Mai says he is then you wouldn't mind. But that was one big miracle and you don't think you've done enough good deeds to warrant that.

You adjust your navy blue headband to neaten out the baby strands that were sticking out in your hair. The rowdiness of the group with their deep, masculine laughter, trying to speak over one another becoming abundantly clear as you neared, although Geto seemed to be the only one that's not trying to scream over his teammates. You neatened your buttoned up white shirt, unrolled your black jersey sleeves, and lifted your pants up with the hoops of the waistband. 

"god... here we go," you mutter. "excuse me." you say loud enough to catch the attention of just the right person who turns his head right as a guy beside him gave a solid slap on his back and exclaimed a this guys worse, dude before following the group further down the pavement, leaving you alone with Geto.

For some reason, it feels like time stood still and it's that heart stopping moment in a movie where the lead has just met the most gorgeous man in her life, leaves floating mid-air, the wind twirling both your hairs. But then reality kicks in and some random guy comes hurtling past you on his skateboard, nearly pushing you right over had he not skidded along the rail beside you.

You give him your best smile, waving your hand but also mentally aware to not actually swoon over him because wow, up close you could just tell he was a man made with love. 

He’s tall, atleast six feet tall which is well above your head and there's a slight sag to his shoulders coupled with effortless bedroom eyes. Truly every womans fantasy. He has long, thick hair that you'd kill for, tied in a messy high bun that suggests he didn’t bother with it after his practice and he loosely grips a half-empty water bottle with the droplets still clinging to the sides. One hand tucked casually inside his long white and blue athletic pants and his sports jacket zipped three-quarter of the way. You hope you didn't pan up his physique. You just couldn't help but notice how effortless he looked and you started to get your hopes up that maybe Mai was onto something.

You notice he looks a bit pensive by your sudden approach, a light crease forming in his eyebrows as if trying to recognize you, but it quickly disappears the same moment his eyes flicker to your hands that still hold your small admissions envelope that you got signed to book out the hall for your shows opening night.

“I don’t think you know me,” you say, and he naturally switches into this approachable demeanor with a light smile, shaking his head that makes his bangs sway gently.

“No, I don’t think I do.” He turns away from his retreating friends to give you his full attention, and it catches you so off guard. You suppose, there’s a delicateness to him that you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself quickly, having some irrational fear of forgetting your name. He nods, acknowledging you. “Geto.” he says as if not everybody already knew who he was.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and exhale, suddenly feeling nervous.

“So, listen... I know we've just met and this is kind of random. I don’t want to waste your time, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m producing this show, and I’d really like for you to audition to be my lead—" Your words trail off as you notice his expression change.

"A show?" He repeats. There’s suddenly an intensity in his gaze that makes you want to apologize for even asking because it feels like you’ve wronged him somehow. You just nod. "Yeah...or like a play, whichever works..." 

“Oh.” You hear the disinterest in his tone faster than he can cover it up with a polite smile, “Thank you, but I’ll have to decline. I’m really busy with volleyball practice—”

"I know you're busy," you cut him off, taking a step closer but remember you can't come off as desperate despite how much you actually are. "my play's opening night is June 23rd, and I know your practices are on hold now for the next month with the trials starting up."

He stares at you for a few seconds, almost like a deer caught in headlights and then he chuckles.

"You really did your homework."

You give him a weak smile, shrugging. "If I'm going to ask you I think it's only safe measure to know my information, right? This wouldn't be just for me either. This would be really good exposure for you too. I have pretty top end agencies attending the play and you never know. They may just be interested in what they see."

Daringly you once him over, but you don't think about how inappropriate that may be until after you've already checked him out. Luckily he doesn't seem like the type to get overly offended, still, you snap your eyes back up to his slightly amused ones.

He hums, crossing his arms and getting more comfortable on his feet. It takes everything in you to not glance at how nice his arms probably look across his chest.

"But I'm pursuing volleyball, what need would I have for acting agencies?"

heh...no one said it would be easy...

"Well, they're not just looking for actors," You no longer feel this impending sense of rejection, rather the confidence in knowing what you're taking about coming out as easily as directions. "they could use you for the sports magazine, publicize your skills, your credentials. It could easily bring nationwide attention for you to be on that, which I'm sure now that it's your final year, professional teams are most likely head hunting."

You feel a sense of pride when Geto’s demeanor shifts subtly from uninterested to genuinely intrigued. You’ve cast the line, and now you just need to reel him in.

“Hm,” he exhales, shoulders dropping slightly. “How long is it again?”

"one month. Give or take a few days."

"and you want me to audition?"

"Yeah, any day this week is cool but preferably as soon as possible."

He raises a brow and by the tug of his lip you're assuming he has something snarky to say. "This sounds like the most important play of your life...and you're only now looking for a lead?"

You flush in response to his comment, glancing away sheepishly at the students exiting the campus doors. Sharp as a knife this one...

"That's a... It's a really long story, but you don't have to worry about that, I have a complete team that's ready to go at a moments notice. I just need my lead."

He taps his finger over his bicep, nibbling on the inside of his cheek as if he's thinking about it and you think you might have actually convinced him, but then he shakes his head again and this time he's halfway turning around with a hand raised.

"Sorry, but I'm just not interested. Good luck with your search though." then he leaves, catching up with his friends. Your jaw literally drops. He asked all those questions just to fucking say no?! 

In his defense he was surprisingly polite, but you couldn't care less about that as you feel your frustration start to grow, all the events of the day coming to a boiling point. Without thinking and with really nothing to lose, you yell:

"You owe me, you asshole!"

and he turns, so damn fast you're surprised he didn't get whiplash. His face is just screaming for you to repeat that and you did. Gladly. The idea that you're just using him as a punching bag well out of your rationality range.

"You think I don't know? sleeping around with girls that are already taken!?" Ah, you vaguely remember hearing Mai say something like that.

How strange though, you don't even know when it happened or how in the world he moved so fast but you're suddenly pushed back into campus with a very strong hand, dragged into a random empty lecture hall as if you weren't a fully grown adult yourself and then despite how much Geto tried to whisper, he echoed in the large room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He demands, now looming over you and usually you'd be intimidated by a man as dominating as him but in this current moment you could only glare and channel every nerve of frustration into the conversation.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" You press a finger into his hard chest and for a split second you see him look taken a back by just how angry you are. "Sleeping with someone that's already taken—do you have any idea how hard I worked, how long I slaved away at this show just to have it ruined because you couldn't keep it in your pants for someone that's available?!"

Geto’s eye twitches at the remark you've just made about him, and for a moment, you think he’s going to yell back at you. But instead, he takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair as he forces himself to stay calm.

“Look,” he says, “I don’t know what you think you know, but whatever happened between me and... whoever, it’s not my fault your show is falling apart.”

You let out a bitter laugh, looking away and shaking your head. “Cecilia. And of course, it’s not your fault. It’s never the other person's fault, right? You just waltz into people’s lives, do whatever the hell you want, and leave them and others to deal with the mess.”

Geto’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at you. “I didn’t ask that girl to be unfaithful, I didn't even know she was before she threw herself onto me and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be dragged into this drama. So why don’t you stop blaming me for your problems?”

“oh, my bad, you’re right. You didn’t ask for this so that just means all of the problems you had a hand in just fall away." You take a step closer, teetering the edge of calm and blowing a fuse, " I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but your actions have consequences you know. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of the reason why things went south. Why I don't have my lead anymore. You could at least try to be an adult about it by taking some responsibility instead of just playing innocent.” Your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket and you see it's Mai texting you, but you quickly turn it off.

You don't see his expression soften slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considers your words. “you actually believe being in your play is going to make up for it?”

Your ears perk when you hear the change in cadence in his voice, momentarily stuck for breath by it and you look back at him, noticing how he seems to be considering you, “It’s a start,” you plead, “I know it’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve worked so hard on this, and I’m not ready to give it all up when I'm so close to the end."

You watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he turns his head to look away from you and instead at the empty seats in the lecture hall. Long lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks every time he blinks. You hate the fact that you think about how unfairly attractive he is in the moment and how undeniably perfect he really would be as your lead. With that kind of tenacity? You'd be golden. After a long pause, he finally looks back at you, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” he says quietly and your eyes widen. “I’ll audition. But that’s all I’m promising. If I don’t like it, I’m out.”

You can't control how shocked you look when he acquiesces. Honestly, you didn't expect anything out of this after calling him out the way you did and just started running your mouth to let off some steam, but maybe he really did feel bad. “s-seriously? Oh my god, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warns, the seriousness in his tone cutting through your relief. “Like I said, this doesn’t mean I’m committed. I’ll give it a shot, but if I’m not into it, that’s it.”

“I understand,” you quickly nod. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Geto takes a step back, leaning on the edge of the lecturers table with one palm holding his wrist. “So when should I come in to audition?”

"Uh—... " Your mind runs blank, you hadn't expected to come this far. You scramble for your phone to check the schedule you’d painstakingly put together, but not a single slot was available. "How's tomorrow afternoon?" You look at him.

Geto raises an eyebrow. “Afternoon works. What time are we talking?”

You tap on your phone screen with your painted nail, trying to appear confident despite the nerves. “How about 4pm?”

“Sounds good," he tilts his head and his eyes get smaller, almost like a predator stalking his prey. "but only if you agree to one condition.”

"condition?”

"yes," a witty smile then plays on his lips and somehow he looks even cuter. “I want an iced coffee,"  His shoulders raise as he shrugs. "It's the least you could do after nearly tarnishing my name out there."

You blink, momentarily taken aback by such an innocent request. “uh, yeah sure. I can do that. Is that all?"

He gives you a pointed look before he pushes off the desk and walks over to you. You feel yourself straighten up by the approach. "You make it sound like that's an easy condition, but I'm a very hard man to satisfy." He stops in front of you, and you have to crane your neck just to keep eye-contact. "But for now, yes." his eyes flicker between yours and the faint smell of his masculine scent hits you. "That's all."

You get a bit overwhelmed by his unwavering eyes so you look away into your tote bag. You swear he becomes just a little bit smug by it. "um, here’s the script." You pull out your personal script since it was the only one you had on hand. When Geto looks at the worn-out, slightly crumpled script covered in handwritten notes, annotations, and sticky tabs, his gaze softens, and he takes it tentatively from you.

“I know it looks like a mess, but it’s got all the notes and directions you’ll need. Just ignore the scribbles if they get in your way—most of it is just me trying to make sense of everything.” You adjust your bag strap sheepishly while Geto cards through the pages with his thumb. 

"You're really passionate about this." He glances at you and you're not even paying attention to him anymore. Your eyes are trained on the script in his hands like it was your holy bible and it might as well have been.

"Hm, I've been working on it since the start of the semester. I'm hoping to get picked up with this bad boy." You look back at him, and you're suddenly giving off a much softer, easy-going vibe. He thought how strange it was that you saw no issue in handing over probably your most prized possession to a complete stranger. In your defense he's always been told that he's a pretty trustworthy person. He sighs and then tucks the script to his side. "I’ll see you at the audition, then.”

You smile back at him. "hm, see you then. And thanks again. Really."

he hums and walks past you to the door, brushing his arm against yours where you could feel the cold fabric touch your skin, the tension in your chest finally starts to ease. Just as he reaches the exit, he pauses and glances back at you.

“And for the record,” he adds, his voice carrying easily across the empty room, “you’ve got guts. Not many people would call me out like that.”

Your heart stutters and with that, he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You stand there for a moment, still processing everything that just happened. Your heart is still racing, but it’s no longer from anger or frustration. It’s from a strange, tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, things might work out after all. When you leave the class you're surprised to see Mai just a meter away, gnawing at her nails with the most horrified expression on her face. When she sees you she doesn't waste time to grab your arm and drag you out of the campus building. "I told you to convince him to audition, not fucking call him out, you idiot!"

You laugh at her, holding her hand that's on your forearm. "Do I have some good news for you."

✧You're all caught up!

[purplephantomwolf]

Love in Motion

Chapter Six

Synopsis: You are a normal college student until you get a wrong number text.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Previous chapter: Chapter Five

Masterlist

May 7, 2022

      You slam your hand down on your phone as your alarm wakes you up. “I don’t want to go to school,” you mumble, half asleep. You sit up and look around, realizing that you’re not in your room. It takes you another second to remember that you’re in Miami and now officially work for Red Bull. “Holy shit,” you jump out of bed, rushing around the room to get ready. You’re so excited to get to work. You head down to the breakfast area, grabbing a bagel to eat. You look around the room, trying to find a place to sit among the AlphaTauri and Red Bull employees. 

     “Y/n, over here,” Jane calls, waving a hand in the air so you can spot her. You make your way to her, weaving between the tables. 

     “Good morning,” you greet the table, sitting down between Amber and Jane. You get a chorus of good mornings from the three photographers. 

     “Did you go over your contract last night?” Jane turns to you. You nod your head taking a bite of your breakfast. “Are there any questions you have?” She asks. 

     “Yes, this moving stipend that’s mentioned, will that come before or after I move?” You ask. 

     “Before. It’ll just be a total sum we pay you, and then you use that to help you move,” Jane explains. You let out a sigh of relief, nodding. The stipend is enough for you to pay to move your things across the world and to get you to your first paycheck for rent. 

     “Perfect, thank you,” you smile at her. You finish up breakfast before heading into the hotel lobby with the group. 

     “Since your start date isn’t for another month and a half, you can just watch the race from the garage with us, Y/n. We’ll be leaving in about an hour for the track,” Jane tells you as you wait for the elevator. 

     “Sounds good, thank you,” you say, climbing into the elevator. Taking the elevator up, you head inside your room. Finishing up getting ready, you sit on your bed to wait. 

     While you wait, you text Luke. 

You: Hey, how’s your morning going?

Luke: Good! Getting ready for an event today. 

You: Oh nice! Good luck!

Luke: Thank you! Since it’s been a month of us talking, would you possibly want to meet up after the race? I’d love to finally meet you face to face.

You: I’d love to do that. We can meet up in the paddock after the race?

Luke: How about we meet behind the McLaren motorhomes? That way we have some privacy?

You: Okay! Sounds good to me!

Luke: I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. 

You: Me too. Good luck with your event today!

Luke: Thank you!

     There’s a knock at your door and you glance at the clock. It’s about time that you leave. You open the door to Jane standing there. “Time to go?” You ask her, grabbing your purse and camera. 

     “Yes! Excited for qualifying today?” Jane asks, as you step out of your room. 

     “Definitely, hoping Max does good today,” you say, strolling towards the elevator.

     “We all are,” Jane says, trailing after you. 

     You ride the elevator down to the lobby and take a cab to the track. You stroll around the paddock, taking pictures. 

************************************************************************

May 8, 2022

     You gasp and your hands fly to your mouth as Lando and Pierre come into contact with each other. Lando’s tire rolls across the track and you internally pout for Lando. Lando wasn’t in the points, but not finishing the race is never fun. You just know he’s disappointed with himself. 

     After five laps under the safety car, racing starts again. You cheer as Max holds the lead. You continue cheering as he holds the lead for the rest of the race. 

     The garage lets out a loud cheer as he crosses the finish line. The mechanics are hugging and high-fiving each other. You get some good shots of the celebrations, excited to be included in these celebrations soon. 

     Jane drags you along with her to the parc ferme, as Max is parking his car. Max gets out of his car and hugs his mechanics. You capture a picture of Max laughing, being lifted by his mechanics. It’s your favourite photo you’ve taken this weekend. 

     Max heads to the podium ceremony, and you wait for him under the podiums. You take pictures of him as he heads out onto the podium. He shakes the champagne and blasts everyone else that’s on the podium. You laugh as the champagne rains down. 

     After the podium ceremony, you head to the office with the other photographers. You spend some time going through your photos and uploading them to the social media folder. 

     By the time you’re done, the others have left. You check your phone to see a text from Luke. 

Luke: Want to meet in 15 minutes?

     This message was sent 10 minutes ago. 

You: Yes. I’ll see you in 5 minutes.

     You quickly rush to the bathroom to check your outfit and hair. Everything looks good, so you head for the McLaren motorhomes. 

     You walk slowly, hoping you take five minutes to get there, but you arrive a minute early. You anxiously wait, nervous about being in a place you’re probably supposed to not be. 

     “Excuse me, what are you doing here?” You turn around and see Zac Brown. 

     “Oh, I’m, uh, meeting someone from McLaren named Luke here,” you squeak out. 

     He looks you up and down. “There’s no one at McLaren named Luke that I know of, and I know everyone.” You blush and mutter apologies. 

     “She’s here for me, I’m assuming!” You turn around and spot Lando Norris rushing towards you. 

     Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “No, I’m here for -” 

     “Luke. I’m Luke,” Lando interrupts you. 

     You’re even more confused now. You see Zac slip away. “What do you mean you’re Luke?” You turn to him. 

     “I wanted to get to know you for you. And I wanted you to get to know me for me, not Lando Norris. So I lied about who I was before I even thought about it. I’m sorry, I know it was wrong of me, and I shouldn’t have done it. I was in too deep before I could back out of the lie.” Lando rushes out. 

     You’re shocked when you hear the truth. “I’m angry at you for lying, I’m hurt.” 

     “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before now. But I screwed it up,” Lando says, looking apologetic.

     You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “Okay. I’m mad at you, and you’re going to have to make it up to me.” You smile softly. 

     “How about a date to make it up to you?” Lando suggests, smiling at you. 

     You just know Lando can see the shock on your face. “A date? You want to go on a date with me?” You stutter out.

     Lando nods, “I do.”

     “I think that’s a good way to make it up to me,” you laugh slightly. 

     “Sounds good. Text me your hotel and I’ll pick you up at 6:30,” Lando tells you. You nod and grab your phone, quickly texting him the location of your hotel. 

     “I’ll see you at 6:30 then,” you say. You walk away, stewing on the fact that you’re about to go on a date with Lando Norris.

Next Chapter: Chapter Seven

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@sol3chu

@faithshouseofchaos

@freyathehuntress

@hadids-world

@doofenshmirtzevil-inc

@delululeclerc

@anotherapollokid

@neferaskingdom

@a-beaverhausen

[jessadamsdraws]

Chapter one: Changes 

This au is the Wild Kratts Guardianship au by @littlecrittereli

The idea is that their is a bigger age gap between Martin and Chris (About 9 or so years apart) and Martin as legal Guardianship after Chris at a young age after they parent passed away (Think Lilo and Nani) I hope you like the first Chapter

Chris remembers that day well, he couldn’t forget if he tried. He remembers the teacher writing on the board talking about fractions. He remembers how bored he was because he knew this all and could do this in his sleep if he wanted. He remembers the teacher’s phone suddenly ringing causing everyone around him to jumping in surprise. But the part he remembers the most is the expression on his teachers face when she turned to Chris in terror like someone had died…

And it turned out someone did die.

The rest is just moments of him and his older brother coming back from Uni early (he was supposed to be back that summer break to hang out) them crying and holding each other. The fighting and shouting matches between Martin and their other relatives over him. The sudden change of moving to a super small one bedroom apartment with his brother. The meals going from warm and comforting to salty and small. 

But the worst change was Martin and himself. He could remember when his brother would read to him the animal picture books and would show him how a pather would leap into the air to catch its prey. It was so much fun being the wild cat’s hunting down its prey and how he would tackle his bro in their little make believe game. 

Now Martin would come home exhausted only to head over to the only expensive thing they owned, the laptop and work on his online studies. Chris now walked to and from school all on his own, coming to an empty apartment instead of the big house that felt like home then here, sitting on the floor and starting his homework on the tiny coffee table next to the second hand couch they owned. When he finished doing the little chorus he had and eating his dinner (if Martin remembered to make it). 

Then there was Lauren. At first Chris didn’t know who she was but he did know she was always coming to the apartment and she asked a lot of the same questions over and over again. She was sickly sweet around him but very short with Martin. Maybe they were dating? He had seen shows where the girlfriends were always mad at their boyfriends for some reason he couldn’t understand. But when he overheard some of his classmates talking about a CSP and what that meant with a quick bit of research, he finally knew who Lauren really was.

And that now he really didn’t like Lauren.

This life became the new normal for Chris. When he reached the ripe old age of 12 was when the fights happened. Chris couldn’t understand why he was so angry. I mean he could but more specifically he didn’t know why he was mad at Martin. It was like the littlest corny joke that came out of the older blonde's mouth was like it was directed at him like it was his fault or something.

By the time he became 14 was when his life changed again when Martin got an email from someone with an opportunity that would change both of their lives forever.

===============================================

Aviva looked at the message over and over. Yes? Yes. Yes!! She did it! She got the grant for their research. She couldn’t believe it she couldn’t wait to tell Martin… oh, wait Martin. She felt her excitement turn cold in an instant.

Martin wouldn’t be able to go because of his younger brother. No, she couldn’t do this without him. It was their research, it was their project. If it wasn’t for him she wouldn’t have gotten the idea for doing this in the first place. 

It was her first day at uni. She was confident that she would excel in the classes. That wasn’t her problem, it was the fact that she didn’t think she would make any friends. After what happened in space camp she didn’t she ever would again. Zach had shattered her faith in people after the utter betrayal of stealing her technology for himself. Now he owned his own company selling the bots that she originally made. Though their ai was a little off before she could fit their code to learn how to interpret turn of phrase instead of taking them literally which made her happy a little. but , still she was at rock bottom again and needed a new angle and new hook to start inventing something that could help … someone, something? 

She hated this so much. She knew better than to put her eggs in one basket but she did anyway and look where it got her. In a classroom of over nine hundred students learning things she learned years ago. 

“Psst? Hey,”

She heard a voice coming from behind her. Turning to see a guy in a blue sweatshirt looking at her.

“Yes, can I help you?” She asked deadpan.

“I know this is gonna sound really cliche but I forgot my pen and was wondering…” Before he even finished his sentence she had produced a pen out of almost thin air handing it to him. 

“Oh my gosh you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.” She exasperated turning back around.

“I’m Martin” and a hand stretched out from the left of her face caused her to wip back around.

“huh? Aviva.” She said unsure of how to interact in this situation. She now gave the guy a better look at him. He was all smiles and started talking about something she wasn’t really paying attention. It was a bad habit she was trying to break. What she did catch was he wanted to be a Zoologist to travel around the world with his little brother when he grows a bit (if he wanted to cause he was only 8 right now). He talked about all the creatures that he liked (Mostly aquatic variety) It reminded her of a golden retriever which made her smile a bit, but then the next thing he said was what started this whole new road she would take not just by herself as she’d thought but with her new friends, no her new family.

“Imagine if you could have the abilities of these awesome creatures.”

Yeah…

What if?

[bbina]

the restaurant eunseok chose for this week’s friday nights escapade (as eunseok likes to call it) was a bit odd to say the least

especially when you two are decked out in fancy clothing rather than your usual drip which basically consisted of eunseok’s stolen hoodies

you two were in the middle of a fancy restaurant eating the free complimentary bread the restaurant offers

“seok.. can we really afford to eat here?” you hushed as you leaned closer to the table to avoid any neighboring tables to eavesdrop on your conversation. it’s been like 30 minutes and you still haven’t ordered anything with the exception of ordering another round of free bread and water

you thought eunseok was out of his mind when he pulled up to this five star michelin restaurant knowing damn well you both have $50 to your names combined

“yeah watch this” he prompts, suddenly getting up from his seat and kneeling to the ground.

eunseok gets up on one knee and pulls out a velvet box out of his pockets. inside was a silver ring

‘he can’t be serious right now’ you mentally face palm as you put two and two together

this fool was about to “propose” to you in the middle of the restaurant to get free food

“y/n, i have loved you for many years and i think it’s time to put our relationship to the next level.. will you… marry me?” eunseok says slowly but surely. loud enough for the people in the vicinity to hear

claps and cheers errupt around the two of you. the waiters and waitresses halting their operations as they all watch you in awe

eunseok looks like he was seconds away from bursting out laughing but managed to control himself. following his insane act, you jump into his arms yelling, “yes!”

he wraps his arms around your body as he sways you around for show.

“she said yes!” eunseok exclaims in joy, holding his fist up in the air for everyone to see.

the crowd all chorus a “congratulations!” to the both of you as you showed off the ring in front of everyone with eunseok beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist smiling so proudly of this little engagement moment you two have shared

when you got back to your seats, the manager of said restaurant came by and sent his personal regards about how they’re so happy that you guys chose their restaurant to get engaged in. so much that he gave you guys free dessert and a glass of champagne on the house

“you’re an idiot, song eunseok” you laughed as you both feast on your free meal

eunseok smiles smugly, cheeks full of cake. he holds up a finger indicating to wait as he swallows his food

“it’s called being a genius. look we even have a free drink. champagne at that” he smirks, taking a sip of champagne.

“more like a cheapskate” you mumbled under your breath but loud enough for him to hear causing him to yell “hey!”

he then clears his throat. you look at him puzzled. maybe there was another plan in his head that you did not know about. eunseok raises his wine glass up front

“to more fake proposals in different restaurants with you” he cheers, motioning you to follow suit. with a sigh and an eye roll, you clink your glasses together

[ficfield]

Snowblind

Request: Anywhooo can you do a spanking kink with Chris? If you haven’t already👀👀 I prefer vendetta please RE8!Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader  Word count: 1507 Smut

Setting: An abandoned cabin, blizzard outside, tension inside.

The wind howled like a beat outside the old cabin, rattling the windows with each vicious gust. Ice clung to the frames, frost crawling like veins across the glass. You rubbed your hands together in front of the weak flame Chris had managed to spark in the old stone fireplace, watching the shadows flicker across his face as he worked the comms.

“Alpha team, status,” he barked, jaw tight, his breath misting in the frigid air. A chorus of crackles answered him through the static, confirming everyone had found shelter. Relief washed over his face, but only for a second. Then his expression iced over again.

And you were still sitting there, cold, not from the weather, but from him. His broad shoulders were tense, his usual glances at you absent. Chris Redfield was giving you the cold shoulder, and it was killing you.

You shifted closer to the fire, trying to shake off the chill that wasn’t from the storm. “You’re seriously not gonna talk to me?” you asked, breaking the silence that had been gnawing at you since you two stumbled across the cabin. 

He didn’t answer. Just removed his earpiece and tossed it onto the makeshift table with a quiet thunk. his gloves followed, landing heavily beside it. He braced his hands on the table and stared at the grain of the wood like it had personally offended him.

“I’m fine, you know,” you said, voice sharper now. “In case you missed that while you were busy shutting. Me out.” 

His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn. “You call that fine?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous. “You jumped in front of a damn bio weapon for me. no back up, no plan.” 

“I saved your ass,” you shot back, standing up now. “Would you rather I left you out there?”

Chris turned slowly, and the heat in his gaze was enough to make you forget the cold. “I’d rather you didn’t make me watch you nearly die.”

There it was. That raw edge in his voice. You took a step closer, heart pounding, breath coming fast. “I can take care of myself.” 

“You don’t have to,” he growled. 

The air between you crackled, hotter than the dying fire. Before you could say another word, Chris closed this distance in two strides. His hand caught your wrist, firm but carful, and suddenly you found yourself pulled towards him, chest to chest. 

“You don’t get to scare me like that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not you.” 

Your heart was in your throat. “What are you gonna do about it, Captain?”

His eyes darkened. Without warning he sat down heavily on the edge of the couch and yanked you over his lap, your balance lost to his sheer strength. The sudden shift left your hands braced against the cushions, breath hitching as he fingers ghosted over the waistband of your pants.

“Chris-“ you started, but his palm smoothed over the curve of your ass, steady, grounding. 

“You think you’re untouchable?” he asked, voice deep and rough. “I’m gonna remind you that you’re not.” 

Your pants slid down slowly, the cold air shocking your skin, but the heat of his palm soon replaced it. He didn’t strike immediately. He lingered, fingers tracing patterns over you, building anticipation that made your cheeks burn hotter than any slap could. 

When his hand finally came down, it wasn’t cruel. It was controlled. A sharp sting that left your breath catching, but underneath it, your already soaked cunt was clenching around nothing. Another swat followed, and another, each one making it impossible to think of anything else but him. His hand, his touch, his claim on you.  

“You’re reckless,” he murmured, another slap punctuating his words followed by a whimper of pleasure falling from your lips. “You drive me insane.”

You arched under him, hands gripping the fabric of the couch. “Chris-“ you begin to whine. “You scared the hell outta me out there” he growled, and there was something almost tender beneath the bite of his palm. “And you’re not gonna do it again, are we clear?” you nodded your head frantically.

He paused, hand resting warm over the pink heat he’d raised. His thumb traced lazy circles, soothing the sting he’d put there. and then, softly, almost too softly for someone like Chris Redfield, he added, “I can’t lose you.”

The heat in your skin was nothing compared to the fire in your chest. 

You turned your head, catching his eye over your shoulder. “Then stop pushing me away.” 

He sighed, heavy and full of things he wasn’t good at saying. But his hand smoothed up your back from your perfectly rounded rear. He pulled you upright, turning you to straddle his lap this time. His arms wrapped around you like amour, holding your close.

The storm still raged outside. But in here, in his arms, you were warm.

You didn’t realise how badly you needed to be close to him until you were there, knees bracketing his hips, your arms wrapped looped around his neck. Chris’s breath was warm against your cheek, his calloused fingers firm on your waist, grounding you, no. claiming you. 

“Look at me,” he said, voice low, rasping like he’d been holding something back for too long. 

You did. His eyes were dark, stormy, but not from the cold. From you. And when you leaned in, closing that last sliver of space, his lips met yours like a match striking dry tinder.

Heat. Blazing, consuming heat.

His hands slid up your back, one curling behind your neck, holding you close as his mouth moved over yours with a desperation you’d never felt from him before. It was like he couldn’t kiss you hard enough, couldn’t get enough of you even if he tried. His hands pawing at your clothing, pulling frantically in any direction until they were off your body, leaving you clad in your bra and soaked black thong. 

You gasped against his lips as he pulls your thong string, it snaps back against your skin, followed by a harsh smack of his palm. He shifts beneath you, bringing you flush against him. His erect member pressing into you through his clothing. Your hips move instinctively, a slow roll that made him groan low in his throat, a sound so raw it sent shivers down your spine. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against your lips. “You have no idea.” He pulls back slightly to remove his t-shirt and to undo his pants, shimmying them down just enough to free his throbbing cock. 

You bite your lip as you look down at his cock springing free, your eyes lighting up with excitement before looking back up into his eyes. “I think I do,” you breathed, the fingers on your left-hand threading through his hair, tugging gently until he growled and kissed you again, teeth grazing your bottom lip. Your right hand sliding down his muscular hairy chest, down his abs and wrapping around him at the base, causing him to shudder at the touch. 

His hands move lower, gripping your hips and guiding you against him, your movements syncing up like they’d always belonged together. His hand moves down between you and pulls that pesky thong to the slide, lining himself up with your entrance, you slowly sink down onto him, your hand perched on his shoulders for balance, you sink all the way down to the base letting out a whimper as you stilled, adjusting to his girth. He begins to slowly guide your hips again. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t frantic. It was slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing every shift of your body, every sound you made. The cabin faded away; all you could hear were his rough, ragged breaths, your soft gasps, the faint creak of old wood beneath you both.

And still, outside, the blizzard howled. 

Inside, you found a different kind of storm. One you weren’t running from. 

Chris’s forehead rested against yours as you moved together, your bodies finding a rhythm that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with the connection that had been burning quietly between you for too long.

“Come back to me,” he whispered as he gently thrusted up into you, making your eyes roll.

“I will,” you promised, breathless but sure “Always.” 

His hands tightened on you as he began to get closer and closer to his climax, his eyes fluttering shut and his face contorting into pure pleasure. A few more thrusts and he spills inside of you, breathing heavily and clutching onto your hips for dear life. 

You hold him close to your chest, as you ride out the storm together. And when the blizzard finally broke, you knew it wouldn’t matter where you ended up. As long as it was with him. 

[estrellami-1]

Lavender Letters

Part 9

“Dingus!” Robin exclaims, bursting into the kitchen. “Thank God, you’re dressed, I need help.”

“Why’d you come in if you thought I wouldn’t be dressed?”

She waves him off. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you naked. Steve.” She grabs his shoulders, eyes wide. “I’m pretty sure both Vickie and Chrissy are flirting with me and I don’t know what to do.”

“Flirt back?” Steve suggests.

“But I’m terrible at flirting! You’ve seen me flirt! Save me!” She exclaims, shaking him.

“Vickie seems nice, but do you know her at all?” Eddie asks. “Why do you like her?”

Robin pauses to look at him. “That’s a good point. I don’t really know either of them, though. Do you?”

“I’ve met Vickie before. Sweet, but kind of… going through the motions, y’know? She doesn’t really seem to actually like much. Or have much of an opinion on anything.”

“And Chrissy?”

“I know her a bit better,” Eddie admits. “We met at the middle school talent show. I was with my band, and she was doing a cheer routine. She gave me a piece of gum and told me to picture everyone naked if I got nervous.” He grins at them. “We never really hung out, per se, but we got to know each other better. She’s really sweet, super passionate about cheer. From what I’ve heard she’s a decent singer, too.”

“Better than Tammy Thompson?”

“Tammy Thompson sounds like a muppet,” Eddie tells Steve, who bursts out laughing. Robin does too. “Actually, I’m pretty sure muppets are better singers than she is.” He shakes his head. “Yes, Chrissy is a better singer than Tammy Thompson.”

“And she likes singing?” Robin questions.

Eddie laughs. “Go ask her about it! I don’t really know her that well.” He picks up his and Steve’s waters and ushers them both out of the kitchen, dropping Steve’s water in his hand and pulling him by the hand the rest of the way to the living room.

He drops Steve’s hand and jumps onto the coffee table, winking at Steve as he does. “Attention, please!” He cries, grinning at everyone when they turn to look at him. “I’d like to give a very special thanks to the man who put this on for us.” He holds out a hand for Steve. “I’d also like to request we make this a tradition and keep it going. We’re not going anywhere, and we deserve the space to show it! So I propose we give it a name, and it’s only fitting the name comes from the one who began it.” He smiles at Steve. “The floor is yours.”

“Oh,” Steve says, blushing. “I- I don’t know, I’m not good at naming things.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe we’ll name it after you, then?” Steve shakes his head. “No, not your name, exactly. I’m thinking…” he cocks his head to the side. “What color is your suit?”

Steve looks down at himself. “Lavender?”

Eddie grins, throws his arms out wide. “Lavender prom! Where anyone can dance with anyone!”

“Lavender prom!” Nancy agrees, holding her drink up.

“Lavender prom!” Chrissy joins her.

“Lavender prom!” Robin parrots, blushing when Chrissy beams at her.

“Lavender prom!” Jonathan and Vickie chorus.

“Lavender prom,” Steve agrees with a smile, stepping up onto the table with Eddie. Everyone cheers, and Eddie points to Robin with a grin.

“Music!”

She turns it on, and Eddie twirls Steve out, laughing. “This is all thanks to you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs when he reels Steve back in.

Steve hums, anchors himself with a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “For humoring my letters. For responding. For not caring who I am.”

“Back up,” Eddie says kindly. “I do care who you are. I don’t care who you pretended to be.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Okay, that, then.” He falls silent for a second, searching Eddie’s face. “And for keeping this going?” He waves the hand holding his bottle around, and Eddie grins.

“I did suggest this continue, didn’t I? And it makes sense. I talked with Principal Higgins a few weeks ago.” He works his lip. “I’m not graduating.”

“Next year,” Steve says. “And you’ve got us, now. If Nancy can’t get you out of there, no one can.”

Eddie snickers. “I’ll give her a run for her money, that’s for sure.”

“She’ll win,” Steve tells him. “And you’ll graduate. And… we’ll figure it out from there.”

“Hell yeah we will,” Eddie murmurs. “‘86, baby. It’s my year.”