#she had a little british accent too she was so CUTE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lnfours · 8 months

Text

* ✰. — the meet cute | l.n

summary: you never thought your best friends wedding would be where you’d find the love of your life or the first part to ‘the mini valentine’s day playlist’

warnings: a meet cute!! best man!lando x moh!reader, a wedding between p and max f, pining, fluff, language, drinking, if you listen closely you can hear me sobbing in the distance

masterlist | next part | listen to the soundtrack

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the wedding venue was packed, people seated and excitedly chatting about the soon to be mr and mrs fewtrell.

you were pietra’s best friend, automatically promoting you to maid of honor when max had finally popped the big question. you were happy for her, excited to be apart of her big day with her, cheering her on just like you always had.

you peeked out into the crowd, puffing air out of your cheeks nervously. sure, you didn’t really have much to be nervous about, it’s not like you had to worry about messing up a speech or something grand like that. all you had to worry about was not tripping over the hem of your dress, of your own feet.

a presence pulled you from your thoughts, turning your head to look at the man who had joined next to you. you smiled softly at his tight lipped smile, thankful to see a familiar face.

“hey,” he said, british accent ringing through your ears, “we’re staring soon, you okay?”

you nodded, shaking your head and pushing the nerves down, “yeah, no, i’m good.”

you and lando hadn’t known each other before this week. of course you knew enough about max to know that him and lando were best friends, practically conjoined at the hip, but after all this time your paths never crossed. there was always something standing in the way of pietra and max introducing you to each other, despite knowing endless stories about the other.

however, the way you two had grown so close this past week you would’ve thought you’d been friends for years. it was an instant connection, an instant gravitation towards the other upon introduction. you couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was almost like he was as addictive as your favorite song. the kind you could listen to on repeat over and over again and never get sick of it.

“you sure?” he asked, eyes searching yours. you nodded back at him, smiling softly again. he didn’t bother pushing it further, but instead offered you his arm, “lets watch our best friends get married.”

you laughed softly, joining his arm with yours as he led you through the hallway and back to where the lineup was forming. you stood at the back with lando, arms linked still as the wedding music started. you felt those butterflies start to come back, gently squeezing onto his bicep.

he looked down at you and leaned his head towards your ear, “you’ve got this.”

you looked up into those stupidly gorgeous green eyes, brown curls perfectly styled. he looked good in a tux and he looked good in the hoodies he had been sporting at rehearsals too. you were pretty sure he could pull off just about anything, which was kind of unfair.

the doors opened and you and lando were face to face with the crowd. you smiled at the familiar faces, looking towards the cameras and phones before turning your head back to him. to your surprise, he was already looking at you. taking in everything about you, studying the side of your face like he was going to be quizzed on it later on in the night.

he had walked you over to the other bridesmaids before the music changed and the doors opened to reveal pietra in her dress. everyone stood, smiling and wiping away a few tears as she joined hands with max who had wiped his eyes on the shoulder of his suit.

lando met your eyes as the preacher spoke, the both of you smiling before you tilted your head down. the energy in the room made it impossible not to smile, not to be happy. plus, with the added feelings that sparked at every little touch and glance you and him stole, it was a wonder your cheeks weren’t hurting yet.

it was finally time for the reception, taking care of more ceremonial events before everyone intermingled. you had made your way to the bar, ordering a drink. you heard your name, looking over to see p and your group of friends waving you over. drink in hand, you wandered over to the girls who were begging to know just about everything.

“please tell me you and lando have a thing going on,” madison, the taller brunette, sighed, “if not, you need to.”

“no seriously,” chloe, the shorter, tanner, blonde said, “you two were making heart eyes at each other the whole time!”

pietra laughed, looking over at you, “i knew i should’ve rigged the bouquet toss for your favor.”

you rolled your eyes, “for one, we weren’t making heart eyes at each other. is he cute? one hundred percent, but i don’t know-“

“oh c’mon,” madison laughed, “you’ve gotta admit you want it just as much as he does.”

“how do you even know he wants it?”

“because he’s been staring at you all night,” pietra smiled, looking over at lando as he talked with max and his family, laughing before he felt eyes on him and his eyes met yours once again. he smiled, turning to say something to max before he took his friend took his glass. you whipped back around to the girls, just to find that they had disappeared, leaving you to have your moment with him.

he smiled, hands in his pockets as you turned back around to see him.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“no,” you waved him off, “the girls were just right here, and they disappeared.”

he looked around with you, “think they went over to the dance floor.”

you nodded, “makes sense,”

“ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom would like to invite you to join them on the dance floor for a slow song.”

you watched as couples joined hands, smiling and laughing as you spotted max and pietra swaying back and forth. her head on his chest as they danced, a smile on his face as his head rested on hers. completely in love.

lando looked over at you, clearing his throat softly, “did you wanna dance?”

you looked back at him, “you wanna dance?”

“well, they did invite us out onto the dance floor.”

“i don’t know,” you mumbled, “i’m not a very good dancer-“

he rolled his eyes with a chuckle and grabbed your glass from your hand. you sighed in defeat, watching him put it on the table as he grabbed onto your hand.

“you’re dancing, c’mon.”

“i have two left feet.”

“i think you’re just overthinking it.”

he had you there. you didn’t want to not dance with him, in fact there was nothing else you’d rather do. but the thought of his hands on you, it sent fire through your body and it made it impossible to think straight.

he took your waist into his hands, your arms wrapping around his neck. you looked down at your feet before your gaze was adverted as he lifted your head back up with a finger under your chin.

“don’t look at your feet, just sway,” he smiled softly, “if you look at your feet, you’ll fuck it up.”

you nodded, looking into his eyes again. this time you were close enough to see the specks of blue in his green eyes, how his eyelashes kissed his cheeks every time he blinked, how his beauty marks and freckles cutely decorated his face.

he was pretty, so so pretty. there was no denying it.

you licked your lips as he did the same with you, studying your face again as he tried his hardest to memorize it, “so…” your voice trailed off.

“so,” he echoed back, “‘re you having a good time?”

you nodded, “the best.”

“me too,” he said, reaching out gently to push a piece of hair from your face, “i’ve been meaning to tell you since i saw you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning.”

you blushed softly, feeling your cheeks turn hot, “so do you. handsome, i mean.”

he laughed softly, “i’m good with being classified as stunning.”

you rolled your eyes and laughed softly, “shut up,”

he smiled. normally he wasn’t this nervous when it came to asking girls on dates. normally he was able to keep cool, keep calm and achieve victory. but you messed with his head, sent him through a loop he had never been through. he wanted to do everything with you, he wanted it all.

his mouth spoke before his brain could filter it, “did you wanna go on a date with me?”

you looked up at him with wide eyes, immediate regret washing over his face as your silence made his cheeks turn hot.

“oh, i’m sorry-“

“no, it’s okay-“

“- i don’t know where that came from-“

“lando,”

“i’m sorry if i crossed any-“

“lando!” you laughed, causing him to stop his rambled apology. he looked at you, the smile you wore on your face calming his nerves.

“i’d love to go on a date with you.”

he smiled, chuckling to himself as he pulled you closer. your head rested against his chest as he held you close, “thank god.”

you laughed, smiling against his dress shirt, thinking about how this could be the beginning of the two of you, how it would all start right here in this moment.

1K notes · View notes

mrchiipchrome · 5 months

Text

You Always Go To The Parties

W.C. - 5.7 k

okay so this is the project i've been working on for a little, hope y'all like it:) (also listen to American Wedding by Frank Ocean while y'all read this.)

To clarify, this is a lionesses x r series too, but this is literally just the chapter of introduction so that we can get to know the characters.

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

“Do I really have to go? I can’t even drink legally here.” You groan, there was nothing stopping you from collecting your things and getting the hell out of that apartment in Boston, well except the manners instilled in you from an early age. There was nothing you’d like more than to crawl up in bed and sleep for the next few weeks.

No way Emma would let you do that.

The sophomore defender had been one of the only people that had come back to college early, having been asked to show you around the campus and the facilities. She had quickly taken you under her wing, which meant that she wouldn’t let you sulk in bed the rest of August.

Brown cardboard boxes filled to the brim with different things, ranging from clothes to knick knacks, were stacked to the ceiling in the otherwise empty apartment. You didn’t mind, clearly, but it bothered Em.

You tuck your hands behind your head, staring up at the ceiling from your mattress that was placed directly on the floor. Your button up had the first few buttons undone, the top of your chest displayed for Em to see, you had even put your fancy trousers on for the stupid party you didn’t even want to attend.

“Yes, you really have to. How else do you expect to make friends, your cute British accent will only get you that far, you actually need to put in some effort okay?” Rolling your eyes at her words, you were quickly made to get up off the makeshift bed, getting pushed towards the door.

“But-”

“No buts, you are going because I need someone to drive me home when I’m black out drunk tonight, you don’t want me to drink and drive right?” You can’t help but contemplate over her words, feeling the girl’s hand come down on your shoulder harshly.

Clearly she didn’t like that.

“I mean you could just, I don't know…not drink?” She looks at you like she’s disgusted you’d even think about saying something like that, like she has to drink.

“Wow, it really is obvious your parents are rich.” You lock the door up as you look at her through the corner of your eye, a slightly judgemental look in your eyes.

Your parents were rich, but they didn’t spoil you so you weren’t one of those snobby rich kids, you were just like anyone else. Only you had access to more money than most.

“Shut up.” Emma puts her hands up in the air, like she’s surrendering to you, but you see the way she’s smiling slyly at you. Note to self; don’t get defensive when Em brings up your rich parents.

“You know, I could use a new Gucci bag if you want to contact daddy dear.” She looks up at you pleadingly as you make your way to her car, there was no way you’d use your car, it was far too expensive to be left outside a frat house. You really had to get a more beat up one.

Maybe you’d sell it, and donate the money you got for it to charity.

“Aw, we’re taking my car?” Em whines, clearly she wanted to take your cool car.

“Aw, I’m not leaving my really expensive car outside of a frat house for hours.” You roll your eyes at her almost like she’s stupid, throwing her the keys so that she could drive, you didn’t even know where it was you were going.

“You know, you are really sassy for being a rich kid.” Em pulls out of the garage, the apartment complex you were living in was just off campus, so near that you walked there every day for pre-pre-season training (absolutely destroying Em every single time without fail).

“Yeah well, I grew up in the public education system in London, so that’s where I get it from.” You look on as the girl in the driver’s seat taps her fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn green.

“Really, I would’ve thought that they had you in private school from the second you popped out.” The green light stands out against the quickly darkening sky, starless and rather bleak, but that’s what you get for living in a big city.

“Nope, they wanted me to have a normal childhood, so here I am.” You motion to yourself, feeling the bumps and dips of the road beneath you, damn potholes.

“I mean fair enough right.” A certain quietness envelops the space between the two of you, it wasn’t uncomfortable, just present without any real purpose.

Your eyes slip shut, with Em turning the radio on, playing soft instrumental music like you weren’t in the middle of Boston where most people prefer hip hop and bubblegum pop. That was probably the biggest culture shock you'd been given so far, the music.

At home it was different, in a neutral way. It was neither better nor was it worse, but it was simply different.

You sink into your seat, the cool air blasting across your skin in that refreshing way, the summer’s heat canceled out by the air coming from the car. Slowly, sleep starts to take over your body in that calming sort of way that you’d wished for earlier.

It had only felt like moments since you’d fallen asleep as Em shakes your shoulders to get you to wake up, the pulsing music coming from the frat house a walking distance away already making your ears hurt. You look around at the surrounding nature, it wasn’t familiar to you, not the trees you’d found yourself memorizing nor the architecture present in Boston.

Even the people looked different, shirts with the printing of a dog on the front instead of the three books representing Harvard. Stupid of you to assume that Em would be rational for once.

“Where are we Em?” You ask, voice riddled with a sleepy kind of innocence that suggested that not everything had registered yet.

“We are in Connecticut, home of the huskies and what might be the best parties you’ll ever experience.” Your eyes shoot open wide, a more than flabbergasted look on your face at her naïve words.

“You kidnapped me and then drove me all the way to Connecticut for a party we could just as well have found in Boston?!” You ask her incredulously, like you couldn’t really believe her. And you couldn’t.

“Yeah, technically I did but you’ll also get to experience the party of your lifetime, so I think that it’s fine.” She tries to justify her actions by trying to reason with you, and whilst it doesn’t work in the way she wishes, Emma’s just happy you’re not totally freaking out.

“Come on grumpy, let’s go. Who knows, you might even have some fun.” Em pulls you along towards the house spewing flashing lights in a hundred different colors.

You let your eyes adjust to the blinking lights as you enter through the open front door, seeing the entire bottom floor of the mansion-like house covered with hundreds of students, packed together tightly like a sweaty sardine can.

The house reeks of bad body wash, moldy pits and strong cheap alcohol, and in a sense of the word Em really did tell the truth, you’d never seen anything like it before. It was almost like those frat boys couldn’t afford to buy deodorant.

If your arm wasn’t as firmly attached to your body as it was, you were sure that Emma would’ve torn it off by now, the resistance of the sweaty bodies pushing against your own as she leads you to the kitchen proving to be a difficult task for her weak arms.

Reaching the entrance of the large kitchen, the first thing you notice is that it’s not as tightly packed as the living room, only a few stragglers here and there with the stereotypical red solo cups can be found in every single person’s hand. Future alcoholists.

“Okay, base rules since you’ve never been to a college party before, don’t take a drink from anyone you don’t know, don’t accept anyone’s request to go upstairs or somewhere private, you’ll most likely get robbed, don’t be too snarky, people don’t appreciate that and… I think that’s all. Have a nice night!” And with that she’s off to the living room, plucking a cup from a random man’s hand and taking a sip before leading him to the dance floor.

Yeah, base rules or whatever.

Standing alone in the kitchen, you suddenly feel so awkward. The only real parties you’d been to were the one’s your friends threw when your parents were away on their stupidly long business trips, just the chaotic friend group drinking together.

So this, college parties, was something that was totally out of your comfort zone and you’d never hated anyone as much as you hated Em right at that moment.

Spotting a boy out of the corner of your eye, you approach him with confident, yet still relatively hesitant steps, a question at the tip of your tongue. He looks up at you when you’re close enough to smell the odor of old spice deodorant and way too much sweat, his hat turned backwards on his head to hide the greasy hair still somehow poking its way through.

You almost feel bad for the poor thing, well that is until his mouth opens and you’re staring into the hell that is a frat boy’s gob.

“‘Sup dude, what can I do for you?” His eyes run all along your body, from your ankles up to your face where he notices the annoyed expression.

“I was wondering if you had anything non alcoholic.” You smile staley, eyebrows furrowing together when his eyes light up like a kid on christmas. His laugh feels slightly insulting, especially when his hand comes up to point at you, but there’s really not a lot you could do.

“Dude totally, say the thing though.” You look at him confused, like you didn’t know what he meant. Spoiler alert; you did. “Y’know bo'ohw'o'wo'er.”

He laughs again when you roll your eyes, and even if all you desire is to punch his stupid face in, you still say the phrase. Was it worth it for a coke? Eh, debatable.

He opens the fridge and throws you the can and laughs once more at your dirty look.

Sipping the drink slowly as you make your way around the house, the UConn students around you stare unashamedly at you, like they knew your face from somewhere, but you weren’t familiar per se.

Your face scrunches up at the metallic taste of the American coke, much preferring the Mexican one they had in the canteen. You couldn’t complain too much though, you were the one who actually let yourself get dragged to the party.

It’s sudden, the way her eyes catch yours. Deep pools of endearing brown that capture your entire soul in a single second. The girl was mesmerizing as she stood leaning against the wall across from you, her long brown hair falling so effortlessly down her back.

Her gaze is just focussed on you for a second or two, her attention soon being stolen by the man standing in front of her, a sleazy smirk on his face as his eyes ran all along her body. It was clear that she was uncomfortable purely by the way her lips were turned downwards and the way her hands fiddled with the hem of her crop top.

There seems to be a lull in their one sided conversation as she looks to you almost pleadingly, getting the hint almost immediately, you walk over with confident steps, dropping the now empty can on the floor on the way.

The man is almost as tall as you, his burly shoulders disproportionate to the rest of his awkward body, his meaty hands gripping the red cup tightly like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. His hooded eyes do a once over when he spots you nearing them, almost turning a green pale at the sight of you.

You don’t understand why, there was no way you knew him and being recognised as Harvard’s newest addition would be unlikely. Especially in Connecticut.

“Everything alright here?” The girl seems startled by your accent, but she quickly schools her features so as to not show her surprise. Her hands wrap around your waist, and when you look down at her she looks back up at you with pleading eyes, asking you to just go along with it for the time being.

Your arm wraps around her shoulders and she leans into your body almost subconsciously, like you’ve known each other for much longer than you have.

“Yeah, everything’s going good.” He says, not backing down despite having been nervous at your mere presence only seconds before.

“Really? Because from where I stood it looked like you were flirting with my girlfriend.” You don’t even get the satisfaction of watching his gummy smile fade from his thin lips as he takes in your words, because he walks away from you before you can see it.

It makes you chuckle, especially since he walks up to another girl almost immediately, getting turned down in the same second.

“You okay?” You question the girl in your arms, her hand still resting on your waist as you take her in. You can feel her hair against your arm, her nails digging into your skin ever so slightly and the rest of her body pressed so tightly against your own.

“Yeah, he just wouldn’t leave me alone, thank you for the help.” She smiles at you sweetly, her brown eyes shining under the flashing lights. You smile back at her softly, noticing the way her grip loosens, you quickly let up on your grip of her shoulders.

Her unsure steps catch your attention as she takes your hand in her soft one, just like Em had done earlier in the evening.

“Where are you taking me?” You laugh through the sentence as she tries to pull you through the crowd of people, stumbling over her feet clumsily every so often.

“Do you like burgers?” She questions hastily, nearly having pulled you all the way to the front door already, she was a lot stronger than Em that’s for sure.

"Doesn't everyone?” You smile goofily when she looks back at you, her eyes narrowed playfully when you send her a wink. It’s only when you’re already out the door that you realize that Em is still in there, with people you don't know. Strangers.

You stop walking, the girl’s hand still in yours as she too stops, looking back at you confused.

“I’m sorry but my friend, Em, is still in there and I don’t want to leave her alone with strangers.” Her eyes light up again and you look at her weirdly, not understanding why she looked so happy that you had to leave.

“Em Whitmore?” She giggles at the shocked look on your face, clearly you didn’t know much about Em, the girl thinks to herself. You look at her suspiciously, how did she know Em?

“Yeah…how’d you know?” You ask her, still suspicious of her pretty intoxicated form. Her laugh carries all throughout the empty night, no one out and about except you and the mystery girl who’s soft hand is still in yours.

“I know her brother, she comes to a lot of parties here, because she knows she’ll be safe.” The brunette starts pulling you along again and you let yourself follow her, no longer worried about your Harvard counterpart. Her brother wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

By the time you reach the 50’s themed diner, you’ve already walked for ten minutes, side by side with the dark haired girl. You’re lucky that it wasn’t too far away, the half stumbling girl beside you probably wouldn’t have been able to walk that far without falling over.

The bell at the top of the door chimes when she pushes it open, the bored looking cashier perking up when he sees your companion. It was empty in the diner and you couldn’t imagine that keeping it open for this long wasn’t only for the drunk college students looking for a quick snack.

She drags you over to a booth in the corner, decorated in red and white stripes, a glass with straws standing in the middle of the table with a napkin holder beside it.

“Welcome to Donna’s Diner, what can I get for you?” The boy from the counter comes up to the booth after you’ve both settled, handing the two of you plastic menus. The dark haired girl smiles up at him, that fantastic glint in her eye once more.

“Come on now Alex, no need to be all professional.” You look up at him from where you’re sitting, his blonde hair curling around his ears, green eyes staring into yours kindly, thin fingers clasping the small notebook in his hands.

“Alex, this is my new friend, she knows Callum’s little sister, mystery friend, this is Alex and he’s in one of my classes.” You smile at him softly, sticking your hand out for him to shake, and he does take it in a confident grip, sending you a smile of his own.

“I’m Y/n.” Now the mystery girl looks up at you, finally a name attached to your face.

“Nika, I already know what you want, but how about you?” He looks to you when he speaks, obviously you wouldn’t know what to order, it being your first time there and all.

“I’ll just have whatever she’s having with a chocolate milkshake.” Alex disappears behind the counter again, your eyes following his retreating form. Looking away from the kitchen door, your eyes quickly meet the ones of the girl you now know as Nika.

One of her hands was tucked under her chin, keeping her head up in order to look at you. Relaxing into the cushions behind you, the small smile slowly taking over your face suddenly becomes full blown.

“What is it?” She giggles under her breath at your inquisitive look, and despite not knowing much more than her name, you already felt like she knew your soul inside and out.

“Nothing…it’s just that this is the last place I would’ve thought that you would bring me to.” The furrow in her brow is frankly quite adorable, her head turning to the side just in time to catch Alex walking out the kitchen with your food.

You see the way her eyes light up again, the platter of pure greasy goodness at the center of her attention right at that moment. All you could think about at that second was how thankful you were that the season hadn’t started yet, because everything there broke every single diet you could think of.

Looking to the brunette, the laugh bubbling up from the pit of your stomach is almost one of wonder, because the beautiful girl had already managed to get through half the burger that was in front of her. It seemed like her intoxicated brain only was focussed on one thing, satiating her hunger.

It isn’t long until you follow her lead, picking up the burger and just trying to get the most you could of it in your mouth. You can’t help the groan that escapes you when the exquisite flavours hit your taste buds all at once, having to lean back into the cushions of the booth to be able to take it all in, closing your eyes fully to enhance the experience even further.

It’s only when she laughs that you finally open your eyes again, only to see her looking right at you like you were made of glass, like she could read you like a book and then play you like a fiddle.

“I understand, I had the exact same reaction when I tried it.” She continues to giggle at you when you start to eat like a poor man starved. It was a funny sight to be fair, the way your fancy act completely disappears when in contact with amazing food.

“How’d you even find this place?” You question her when you’ve swallowed and wiped your mouth off with a napkin, you still had manners after all. She smiles at you, gesturing at your surroundings, at the tables and the booths, the chairs and the ketchup bottles, at everything.

“I was drunk after a party once in freshman year and I just stumbled across it.” You nod in response, completely understanding the randomness of how she’d found the place. When you’re drunk, all you want is some greasy food.

“So it’s a well guarded secret between the students then? I assume there’s usually more people here at this time of night.” You take a sip of the milkshake when the last word has fallen from your lips, heat spreading across your face at the intense look you’re getting from the brunette in front of you.

It’s probably just because she’s drunk, you think quietly to yourself, almost trying to convince your mind that the stupidly attractive smile on her face was just one of momentary value, that it was only because it was late and you were tired that it affected you in the way it did.

“Yeah, something like that.” She responds, a comfortable silence enveloping you two as you continue to eat.

The only thing that could be heard was the murmur of the fan across the room, the patting of the fingers of the boy, Alex, at the counter and the sound of shallow breathing. Well that was until her accented voice breaks it with a question.

“So, how’d you manage to befriend the girl with the scariest brother ever?” Nika asks you, her fingers playing with the napkin she’d taken only moments before. Her teeth capture her bottom lip softly as she looks at you tentatively, she’s positively driving you nuts with her pure unfiltered beauty.

“Well, for starters we both play football for Harvard, but she was the first one there to greet me, to help me pack up the necessities and all that. She never did mention a brother though.” You relish in the way she looks at you, all flustered and sweet despite you not having done anything in particular. It was adorable. Pause.

She nods absentmindedly, opening her mouth to speak before closing it and then opening it again, resembling a fish out of water more than anything.

“Were you going to say something love?” You ask the now blushing girl, and she hides her face in her hands at the embarrassment, clearly having zoned out for a little while there.

Reaching over, you pat her shoulder comfortingly before you ask her your next question.

“How about you? How do you know Em’s brother?” Nika reaches over the table to steal a few of your fries, laughing at the betrayed look on your face.

Maybe it was the drinks or maybe you were just funnier than you’d originally thought, either way the angelic sound of her laughing had graced your ears many times that evening. Not that you minded, you didn’t even mind a little bit.

“He plays basketball, I play basketball, and sometimes we train together.” You can’t help the feeling taking over you, the burning feeling that makes you question everything you’d ever known about yourself. Just the thought of your friend’s brother getting to enjoy her company makes the feeling inside you that much worse.

It seems like she sees the way your expression changes just that little bit before it goes back to normal.

“So, you’re like…close?” You ask the basketball player timidly, rolling your eyes only seconds later when the brunette decides to take a sip of your milkshake.

“No, not especially close. I mean, we talk when we have to at the shared training sessions, but not outside of it. But realistically though, who in the world of college sports doesn’t know Callum Whitmore?” Looking at her cluelessly, you sarcastically shrug as if to say you, because you truly hadn’t known a single thing about the man before she had told you.

By the third time Nika reaches for your fries, you decide to just push them towards her and let her have them, you weren’t even hungry after the monster burger you’d just consumed. It wasn’t at all just because she was too pretty not to get whatever she wanted. Pause.

“You want to switch?” She gestures to your drinks, she’d gotten a strawberry milkshake that she didn’t seem to fancy all that much right at that moment. Sighing goodnaturedly, you give her a nod and allow her to take whatever was left of your shake, smiling softly as you sip absentmindedly at the pink shake she’d given you.

Soon enough, the only thing that could be heard over the natural noise of the diner was the slight slurping every so often.

“I just got to go wash up, then I’ll walk you home, okay?” The brunette nods as she looks at you leaving, pulling out her phone to seemingly start to text someone not long after.

You walk up to Alex, who’s still standing at the counter and he smiles in your direction when you near, only seeing you out of the corner of his eye. Pulling out your wallet, you hold out your card to him.

“Could you do a to go order? God knows she’ll need that in the morning.” You nod your head in Nika’s direction, Alex smiling widely at you.

“You know, I’ve never seen her with you before…” His voice trails off, as if to tell you to fill in the blanks.

“Yeah, we only met tonight.” You smile at him staley, not understanding why the timeline of events was so important.

“You must be special then if she brought you here, it’s not often she brings anyone other than her friends here after a night out. Nico, drop me two burgers on the grill, one choc milkshake and a strawberry one.” As you walked towards the bathroom of the establishment, putting your card back in your wallet, you started to think about his words, wasn’t this place well known? What made it so special to Nika that the server had to point out how she never brought strangers there?

Wiping your hands off on your trousers, you go up to your table to collect Nika before swinging by the counter to pick up your to-go order, the brown paper bag looking out of place next to the two of you. It seems like she’s sobered up at least a little as she looks at you questioningly, her eyes soon falling to the bag in your hands and then back up at your face.

The bell chimes again when the two of you exit the diner, the cooling air of the late night a contrast to the warm atmosphere of the diner.

“What’s that for?” The furrow in her brow is so endearing that you almost feel the skip in your heartbeat, her eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. Her arm threads through yours, one of your hands in the pocket of your trousers, creating the perfect space for her arm to go through.

You sneak a glance at her, flyaways being highlighted by the streetlights you were passing. Her head meets your shoulder as you start to walk back to the party, her apartment couldn’t be too far from it considering she hadn’t mentioned anything when you offered to walk her home.

“It’s for you, I just know that hungover Nika is going to crave Donna’s diner’s milkshakes to calm her raging headache.” You tease her softly, but there was definite truth there either way.

If there was one thing you knew about being hungover, then it was that good food usually helped at least a little (well, after the spells of throwing up everything from the previous night.) You give her a cheeky smile as you near the party once more, the booming music being heard from miles away.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” She speaks sincerely, you just smile at her in response, did you have to do it? No, but she’d kept you company all night so you did it anyway.

“Hey, can I just stop by my friend’s car before I walk you home? I just have to get something.” You were so thankful that you’d stolen the keys from Em before you went into the party only hours before. Leading her to the beat up truck, unlocking it and opening the door, you place the bag on the ground before you look through the glove compartment.

Finding the cartridge of painkillers and the pen that you were searching for with a small ‘aha’. The post-it notes Em always kept in her car finally came to use when you stole one, writing a quick message on it before sticking it to the plastic of the painkillers and dropping it down the brown paper bag.

You lock the car up, despite it being a piece of shit that no one would ever steal, Em always insisted on you locking it.

Walking up to her side once more, you open your mouth to speak.

“So, lead the way home love.” You gesture for her to take the lead, it was her apartment after all. Taking your free hand in hers, the girl starts to lead you towards her apartment building, walking calmly side by side with your hands swinging between your bodies.

After passing countless trees, and even more cars, you suddenly find yourselves at the bottom of the slanted hill leading up to where she lives, and when you actually start to walk up the long walkway, it’s slowly almost like you’re both resisting the natural order of events.

But you had to leave her, both Em and Harvard were waiting for you and no matter how much you tried to resist, you knew that’s ultimately where you had to go, it was your life even if the girl you’d just met seemed far more interesting than anything.

When you reach the top, just meters away from the door, you hand her the bag, smiling timidly when she reached out to hug you, her inviting perfume enveloping you in a blanket of warmth. When she pulls away, she thanks you one last time for your kindness.

“Really, it’s no problem.” You reassure her, smiling softly when she turns back towards you one last time before the distance between you becomes larger and larger, her fingers soon punching in the code to open the door.

“Wait!” You call out for her right as she’s about to enter the building, her head turning back to you questioningly. “Don’t forget to put it in the fridge when you get in.” She smiles and nods before disappearing behind the door.

You start your walk back to the party a few minutes after the door has closed, something just keeping you rooted to the ground. It wasn't until you heard your name get called by that familiar voice that you turned around, seeing Nika through her open window, waving at you as you walked away.

It almost felt like you were in some cheesy romance movie as you waved back, turning to walk away after she closed her window.

Truth be told, the evening had felt like something straight out of a romcom and some part deep down loved it. It loved the cheesy moments of pure unbridled love, the ability to express yourself freely, to dance in the rain, be your true authentic self in front of someone else was something you didn’t even know you longed for before you met Nika.

You shove your hands into the pockets of your trousers, every step you take moving you closer and closer to the frat house, closer to Em and closer to getting back to Boston.

Seeing Em sitting out on the steps of the house has you confused, why was she out there?

“Em? What are you doing out here?” You ask the clearly incredibly intoxicated Emma, your loud voice not even startling her, her slow movements showing just how drunk she is. The squeal she lets out when she sees you has you covering your ears, the intrusive sound killing your tired head.

She tries to stand up, but it just looks like Bambi on ice, stumbling and falling at every second. You come up and sling her arm around your shoulder, bringing her over to her car and sitting her down in the passenger seat.

“I’m not cleaning up if you throw up in here, just so you know.” She nods drunkenly, clearly not understanding a word you were saying.

“The reason why I was sitting outside is a long story.” She leans her head against the window, and knowing Em, she was probably imagining herself in a music video right at that moment.

“You can tell me tomorrow.” The car starts with a rumble and you pull out of the parking space on the side of the road, quickly pulling out and starting to drive on the main road.

It’s quiet for a while and you almost believe that Emma’s asleep, well almost since her feet move back and forth against the floor every so often.

“Where were you huh? What were you doing?” Her words are incredibly slurred and you can barely make out what it is she’s trying to say.

“None of your business mate.” She snickers at you, reading way too much into your response than she should have.

“You got some.” The way your face turns red doesn’t help your case even in the slightest, especially when she herself points out your reddening cheeks.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Em.” Your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, still embarrassed by her insinuation.

“Mhm, you totally got some pussy.” You sigh as she laughs again, she was clearly getting a lot more joy from the situation than you were.

“Go to sleep Em.”

“Mhm.”

Maybe she had been right after all, maybe you had fun and maybe, just maybe the decision to go to the party was a good one. Not that you’d ever let her know that.

#woso x reader #woso #lionesses #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #uconn wbb #wbb x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

440 notes · View notes

inf3ct3dd · 1 year

Text

ellie headcanons ..!

warnings : literally none, perfectly sfw 😍😍

content: loser!ellie x reader, more ellie-focused than relationship focused (sorryyyy 😞😞)

authors note: i’ve literally never done headcanons omg 😓 this is js my random ramblings 🔥🔥🔥

pt. 2 ! taglist!!!! masterlist!!

- send you an excessive amount of reels. every 5 seconds. cute cats, random facts about space, stuff she thinks is funny, it all goes to you.

- definitely had a “rock collection” when she was little, but she was so ???? excessive with it??? like every time she saw a rock she picked it up. she walked so weird bc her pockets were just FULL OF ROCKS.

- also, was literally the grimiest kid ever. playing in ROLLING IN the mud, going snail hunting when it rained!!! she was the kid that would go in the bushes and mess w rolly pollies all the time for NO REASON.

- is weirdly good at fishing?? joel took her all the time, and shes a self proclaimed “fishing master”

- WAYYY clumsy. always running into a wall, tripping on air, or missing steps on the stairs (smh its cuz of that damn phone 😒😒)

- im so into the whole “adam sandler” fits cuz its so true. esp during the summer, its some stupid t shirt that says “master baiter” and a pair of old basketball shorts.

- speaking of t shirts, she’s def the type to own an absurd amount of dumb t shirts.

- gets all her clothes from like, walmart and goodwill. she does not CARE!!!

- cuts her own hair too 🤞🏽🤞🏽 shes soooo self sufficient 😍😍😍

- bites. she is such a biter.

- speaking of, i feel like she js has to have something in her mouth constantly. gum, random pieces of plastic, bottle caps, pens, anything 😞

- speaking of mouths (wow sierra so many connections!!!) she def had braces , but she hates wearing her retainer so her teeth are like ever-so-slightly fucked up

- is AMAZING at committing to the bit. she will drag it for DAYSSS if you don’t tell her to stop. once did a (awful) british accent for 4 days until you threw something at her and told her to shut the fuck up

- definitely not shy, just kind of…odd. she’ll talk to anyone that talks to her, she just doesn’t really approach people.

- weird obsession with pickles. has a pickle stuffed animal with a mustache and glasses that she bought from goodwill

- hangs up so much stuff on her walls!!!! tickets, old notes, cards, pictures of people, drawings, old tickets, literally anything she thinks looks cool

- obsessed with rollercoasters!!! she took you to the fair for your first date

- also like- very good at fair games. she’s so cocky about it too, you’ll go home with like 20 stuffed animals she won for you and she’ll carry ALL OF THEM with the stupidest smile on her face

- wears all of joels old contractor-workwear clothes during the colder months

- trys so hard to be “mysterious” but she’s never actually doing anything so she just does stuff like not telling you what movie she’s watching or what she’s eating

- also just texts you 24-7!!! like every time she’s doing something she’s like “i made a quesadilla” “i went to the store” “i took a shower” she just looooves keeping you updated

- tries to raise one eyebrow but ends up just squinting one eye. so funny 😞😞

- really good at solving rubix cubes???

- definitely had a fuck ass bob at one point

- GLASSES. that is all. glasses.

- listens to so much dad rock, midwest emo, indie, she LOVES male manipulator music!! but like she isn’t like thatttt shes so niceeee 😞😞

- mostly calls you babe/baby, she’ll call you really dumb pet names as a joke like “pookie” 😭😭

#loser!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #modern au #lesbian

1K notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

A perfect gentleman

Summary: Your trip to Great Britain changed your life forever.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warning: bitchy friends, mentions of anxiety, meet cute, sex with a stranger, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, public sex, shower sex

You bobbed your head to the song blaring from the loudspeakers. It was the only thing you could do. That, and watching the others dance with men they just met. Grinding into them – their intentions clear.

Maybe you are not the most social person, but being in a place with so many people spiked your anxiety.

You shuddered and ripped your gaze from your friends to order another drink. Something light. You never were much into alcohol.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” a man plopped down next to you and dipped his head. “How can I help you relax?” He purred and moved his hand to your thigh.

“You could start by stopping to touch her,” another man suddenly stood behind your back. He pushed the other guy off you and glared at the stranger touching you. “Is that the way to welcome tourists now?”

“Man, she looked lonely,” the man grunted but made space for the second guy. “Didn’t know you called dips on her already, Raymond.”

“Get lost,” Raymond snapped at the man. You flinched and tried to make yourself as small as possible while the men fought. “We don’t harass ladies at my favorite place.”

“Alright, alright,” the man huffed. “She’s not worth the effort. You can have her.”

“Hey, are you okay,” Raymond softly asked. He must’ve been from around, because of his sexy accent. You always had a thing for men with an accent. “I hope he didn’t hurt you. Some guys shouldn’t drink too much.”

“Uh-thank you,” you murmured and finally looked at the man. Raymond looked like you imagine a British gentleman, but with a dash of roughness and something hidden behind his neat appearance.

He was wearing a navy-blue corduroy waistcoat, a slim tie with the same color, and a light blue and white striped button-down over dark wash slim-fit stretch jeans. His hair was neatly gelled back, and his beard was long but well-trimmed. Orange-rimmed clear lens glasses framed his handsome face.

“That was very nice of you.”

“A gentleman must protect a lady in need,” he grinned and sat next to you. “Let me buy you a drink for the inconvenience, and for not stepping in sooner.”

“You came the moment the man put his hand on my thigh,” you shyly glanced at Raymond. He offered his name to you and held out his hand. You placed your hand in his, feeling another shudder run through your body. This man was unlike any guy you ever met.

He screamed danger but acted like a gentleman. You could smell weed on his clothes when he leaned closer to ask you for your name.

“Y/N,” you replied and allowed him to hold your hand for a little longer than needed. He ran his thumb over your skin, causing a tiny whimper to escape your lips. “Thank you again.”

“What brings you here, love?” Raymond leaned impossibly closer, letting you feel his warmth. “I assume you are a tourist.”

You chuckled. “What gave me away?”

“Your accent, and I know every pretty girl in town.”He laid it on thick when he purred your name and told you that you look beautiful in your dress. He already had you when he saved you from the grabby guy, but you wanted to bask in his compliments for a little longer.

“Every single one,” you chuckled. “You’re a very busy man in that case.”

He adjusted his glasses and smirked. “I don’t know every woman like that.” Raymond gave you a wink. “But I’d like to get to know you better.”

“My friends are still somewhere at this place,” you leaned closer to drink his appearance and scent in. You were enchanted by this man. “Probably rubbing themselves against the guys they just met.”

His eyes sparkled at your words. You were about to do the same with him. Why – you had no clue. He was handsome and charming. But there was something else drawing you in like the moth to the flame.

“Do you want to leave this place?” A question was not in his words when he got up, still holding your hand. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t make it far. Before you knew it, you left the bar with Raymond. You ended up pressed into the wall in the dark alley behind the bar.

He was all over you, lips devouring your mouth the moment you were out of sight. His hand slipped between your thighs, finding your panties soaked. He teased you for your floral cotton panties, moving the fabric aside to shove a finger inside your soaked cunt.

Raymond lifted you off of your feet, and you ended up in his arms, your pussy stuffed to the brim with his thick cock.

“Fuck, this is a tight little cunt,” he puffed into your neck. Hot breath fanning over your skin. “You’ve been a good girl, huh? How many guys did you fuck behind a bar so far?”

“No one,” you held tight onto Raymond as he slowly rocked into you. “Only you.”

“You’re so good for me, love,” he whispered in your ear as he mercilessly battered your cunt. He was not a gentle lover any longer. Raymond fucked up into you, all the while holding your body safe in his arms. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

“Aw, baby love,” he crashed his lips onto yours to silence your moans. “You met the right man to ruin you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to move your hips.

“Ruin me. Do it. I’m done being the good girl.”

“Why did you leave without us?” One of your friends asked. Janice walked inside your shared hotel room, smirking as you were reading another book. “Y/N we are on vacation. Stop reading and go out there. There is a whole new world to explore.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’ll get some dick too if you stop hiding,” your other friend snapped at you. She didn’t get lucky last night and tried to let her anger out on you. Chanel always gets lucky. Just not last night.

“Oh, I think you will have enough fun for all of us,” you hid that you were the one getting a perfect dick last night. Well, they wouldn’t have believed you. You never take a risk. This includes fucking a stranger behind a bar. “Don’t forget to wrap it before you let any dick get near you.”

“It’s their job,” Janice huffed. “I only need my lipstick and nothing else.”

You bit your tongue. Last night you were the one making sure that you didn’t take a bigger risk. Raymond was all too eager to fill you, but you insisted on protection. Even though you were a horny mess wanting nothing more than to feel him bare inside of you.

“Have fun reading,” Janice snapped at you. “We are going to meet up with some girls we met last night and tonight, we’re going back to the bar. Tonight, I’ll get lucky and fuck a British guy!”

“Don’t wait for us to come back today. You’re no fun to be around since you and Ransom broke up,” Chanel added. A low blow to your fragile heart.

With your friends gone, you had the time to enjoy the city. You explored the usual spots tourists would seek out and ended up in a nice little café to have a break.

It was close to your hotel, and you could enjoy the sun as long as you wanted to.

At least no one tried to hit on you here or called you boring for enjoying your tea and biscuits.

“This must be fate,” a familiar voice said. Raymond stopped short in his tracks when he recognized you. “What brings you here?”

“I was—” You licked your lips at the sight of Raymond. Today he was wearing a soft camel tan shawl cardigan and a skinny burgundy tie over his dark wash jeans. He looked as perfect as ever when he claimed the empty chair on your table, “having a break from exploring town.”

“Sightseeing,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I see.” Raymond eyed you up and down in your simple shirt, cardigan, and a pair of worn-out jeans. “I could give you the Smith tour to show you all the secret spots no tourist ever saw.”

“Smith tour?” You wrinkled your forehead.

“That’s my surname, sweetness,” he smirked and nodded at the waitress to order tea and biscuits himself. “Do you want to go on that tour with me?”

“Sure,” you said a little too fast. He was still a stranger, but you let him fuck you twice last night. What else could he want? You were sure he wouldn’t hurt you and having the chance to fuck him again had you already dripping. “I’d love to see more than the usual spots.”

You didn’t see much of town. All Raymond showed you was his large, luxurious estate where he lives by himself. And you didn’t see much of it either.

Raymond had you pinned to his mattress; his cock buried balls deep inside of your dripping cunt moments after he guided you inside his home.

“Shit, look at you,” he purred before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “I could get used to having you like this. Underneath me, filled with my cock.” He kissed you again, softer this time. “Bare.”

He rocked his hips at a slow pace, dragging his thick cock along your walls. Raymond smirked as you dug your fingertips into his back.

“Raymond,” you whimpered his name. “Please.”

“Fuck, say my name again,” he buried his face in your neck to nip at your soft spot. “Now,” Raymond growled your name and gave you a particularly hard thrust. “Sweetness.”

“Raymond.”

“Again,” he snapped his hips into yours. “NOW!”

“RAYMOND!” You screamed his name on the top of your lungs. “RAYMOND!” You chanted it like a prayer. “Please.”

“Fucking take it,” Raymond whispered in your ear. “You’re meant to lie underneath me, my cock in your sweet pussy.” He slowly fucked into you, taking his time to enjoy having you again. “All I was thinking about was your cunt. I could smell you on me all day.”

Your arousal coated his cock with every thrust. It soaked the sheets underneath you, ruining the fine fabric you admired before you ended up on his bed.

“You’re mine now,” he threatened, his voice a deep growl as he kept on fucking you into the mattress. “Say it.”

He stopped moving and stared at you underneath him. “Say it!”

“’m yours, Ray…”

He kissed you again, sweet but dirty. His tongue delved into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you ate earlier.

“Yes. Fuck.” You started to clench around him and tremble underneath Raymond. “Please.”

“Ohhh…fuck,” he thrusted into you, ignoring that you cried out his name. Raymond simply fucked you through your high, rhythm never faltering as you threw your head left and right. It sounded cliché, or like bad porn. But right at that moment it was all you could do because he just felt too good inside of your body. “That’s it.”

“Come inside of me, please,” you pleaded. “NOW!”

Fuck…He thought and exploded inside of your quivering cunt. Raymond didn’t stop. He trusted in and out of you, making an even bigger mess of his sheets.

“That was,” you sighed when he slipped out of you to lie next to you. Raymond panted, and you patted his chest when he gasped for air.

“I know, sweetness.”

“Thank you for making my vacation much more interesting,” you laughed as he crawled back on top of you to kiss you softly and gently.

“Thank you for making my shitty week better.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Smith.”

His shower was amazing. Just like the rest of his home. It was huge, and the rain showerhead was something else.

Not that you got the chance to enjoy it much. The warm water barely had the time to run down your body before Raymond was all over you again.

He stood behind you to nip at your earlobe with his teeth. His skilled hands cupped your tits, and you fell back against his chest.

“Still not enough?” He chuckled at your words. “You're insatiable.

“You’re just too cute to ignore.” He watched you turn around to cup his face to kiss him. “What are you up to, sweetness?”

“I’d love to fuck you again,” you purred his name and ran your hands over his chest. “What are you up to?”

Raymond smirked, and you knew you were in for a rougher treatment. He twirled you around, barking orders at you. “Hands against the wall.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re playing with fire,” he was on you again, to manipulate your body. He gripped your hip with one hand and guided his weeping cock into your dripping pussy. “But I’ll not stop you from being a perfect little cockslut for me.”

You hissed but welcomed his length like an old friend. “You feel too good inside of me, is all.”

“Yeah,” he kissed your neck. “How good? Good enough to spend the rest of your vacation with me.”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation. To hell with your friends, sightseeing, and biscuits. All you wanted to do is spend time impaled on Raymond’s cock.

“I knew it,” he breathed into your neck. “You’re perfect.”

Raymond nipped at your neck while slinging his arms around your waist.

“My little lost tourist.” He slowly but steadily pumped into you. “Lucky me getting inside this sweet body.”

“Oh, yes,” The warm water gently rained down on you and Raymond, and your wet bodies slid easily against one another. “Fuck, please.”

“Same, sweetness,” he growled as you started to push back onto his length. Raymond was close to losing all control. He pressed you against the wall, pumping into you with all the strength he had left in him.

You slammed the palms of your hand against the shower wall feeling your high ripple through your body. You were panting heavily, and your knees buckled when he emptied himself inside of you.

“No, you don’t understand,” Raymond grunted into the phone. He watched you turn around in your sleep to snuggle into his pillow. “I want you to tell me where to pick her things up. Y/N wants to spend the rest of her vacation with me, not you.”

He groaned as your friends bombarded him with questions. His patience was wearing thin, and he was close to sending one of his problem solvers to get your belongings.

“Listen, all you need to know is that she’s safe with me. No…I won’t send you a picture of her.” Cursing loudly, he looked at you.

“Give me the phone,” you yawned, and rubbed your tired eyes. “They won’t believe you, Ray.”

“Fine,” he handed you your phone, waiting for you to confirm that he’s not some psycho kidnapper holding you hostage. Even though, his cock twitched when he imagined keeping you at his home forever.

“Janice, relax,” you tried to calm your friend. “I met Raymond two days ago at the bar. Yeah, where you left me all alone. We met again at a café, and I spent the last two days with him at his home. I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer so, I believed you don’t give a shit about me and if I’m still alive.”

Janice muttered into the phone, but you didn’t care. You told her to pack your things and hand them to whoever Raymond will send to them.

One week later you sat on his couch, snuggled into one of the blankets he offered to you. “You’ve got a nice home,” you said and smiled. It pained you that in not a week you had to leave this wonderful place and the man owning it. “Maybe I can come back here one day.”

“Or,” he sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, “I just keep you here forever.” Raymond nuzzled his face in your neck. “I heard you quit your job, left your boyfriend, and are looking for adventure.”

“What? I-“ you spluttered. “How did you find out?”

“Your friends are rather talkative,” he shrugged and moved his hand between your legs. “I got a big home, and a good job waiting for you. I know this is sudden, but I’d love to keep you around. What do you say?”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith x female reader #raymond smith x you #A perfect gentleman #raymond smith x y/n #raymond smith smut #smut

460 notes · View notes

cookiescribble · 1 year

Note

spencer x british!reader

as a brit i would love to see a fic of a reader with a british accent and spencer adores it and mimics her sometimes

Taking It In (Spencer Reid x British Fem!Reader)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This is a bit of a team effort because I’m a bit more knowledgeable about British culture (in no means an expert, I just had a hyperfixation on the Beatles and Doctor Who in middle school/ high school lmao) but Mod Angel is usually the one who writes for fem!readers. Also, we’re both American so we hope this is what you wanted! Sorry for the little wait - Mod Ghost

We also just binged season 2 of Heartstopper and tried our best to pick up on some of the language because we thought this was a really cute idea and wanted to write it as best we could! - Mod Angel

~~~

“Coffee? I thought that people from the UK drank tea?” Spencer piped up from behind as his girlfriend was pouring coffee into one of the paper cups she’d found around the canteen.

“It heavily depends on who you’re talking to, Spencer. I feel you should know just as well as I do that everyone’s different. You didn’t profile me as soon as we started dating?” Y/N joked, to which he looked puzzled.

“Wha–no, I usually try to keep my job separate from…personal relations.” He replied sheepishly, starting to mix up his own mug of coffee.

“That changed when we started dating, didn’t it, love?” She teased him, patting his shoulder.

It made him blush and stutter like mad, his hands waving around as he tried to scramble to find something to say. It was rare to see him speechless, but she couldn’t help but to smirk as she watched him struggle. It only lasted a few more seconds before she cut him off, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

“It’s alright, I was just being cheeky, that’s all. C’mon, let’s go back to workin’ on the case, okay?” She chuckled, leading him away from the counter with the hand that wasn’t holding her coffee resting at the small of his back as they walked.

“I knew that!” He squealed in his own defense, which made her giggle loudly.

A few weeks later, the BAU were out to dinner, taking a small break while in the middle of a case. Though, it wasn’t much of a break, considering they were still talking about the profile.

Spencer pointed to a plate in the middle of the table. “Can I have a chip?”

A confused silence fell over the table as they all looked in his direction. Spencer stared back at them, an eyebrow raised in his own confusion.

“What?” Spencer asked finally, breaking the silence.

“What did you just say?” JJ responded with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I asked if you could pass me a chip” he answered, pointing to the plate again.

“Where do you see chips?” Hotch chimed in, concerned for his mental stability.

Still confused, Spencer pointed to the plate again.

“The fries?” Penelope clarified, gesturing to the same plate finally.

“Oh.” He nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, can you pass me a fry?”

“You’re really spending too much time with that girlfriend of yours, aren’t you?” Morgan teased, grinning and playfully nudging his shoulder.

He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a faux-English accent as he finally got the ‘chip’ he wanted as the rest of the table laughed.

“Speaking of Y/N, where is she tonight?? I miss that girl.” Garcia complained from the other side of the table,

“Oh, she went out with one of her mates–” Spencer started before Prentiss cut him off from where she was sat next to him,

“Mates??” She asked incredulously, seconds away from giggling as he groaned and leaned back in his chair.

“FRIENDS! Her friends.” he grumbled, finishing his food and making a mental note to not only tell but blame his girlfriend, Y/N, for everything he’d been through tonight. Not before giving her a kiss, though. The fact that she wasn’t here just made him realize how much he missed her, and it made him wonder if there was a correlation between missing her and talking like her.

The girls dropped him off at home a few hours later, where the first thing he said when he saw Y/N was ‘this is your fault’.

“Do you…want to elaborate on that or…?”

“Later.” Was all he said before he was hugging her and burying his head in her shoulder.

She tugged him close, feeling him start breathing deeply against her shoulder as if he was falling asleep and tapped him to wake him up a bit so she could start leading him to their room. “Come along, darling, let’s get you into bed. You seem tired.”

“I know that they’re fries but you say chips…it’s cute…” he mumbled as he walked, only adding to the confusion but she chalked it up to him being tired from a long day and let it go for now as she tucked him in with a smile at how cute he was.

#spencer reid #fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosty #mod angel #mod ghost #spencer reid fluff #british #british speaking Y/N #request #thank you for submitting !!

2K notes · View notes

miley1442111 · 2 months

Note

hiii!! i was wondering if you would maybe wanna write a Chef Luca x reader that takes place at the Ever funeral (they met there) and they get to tell everyone that they are engaged? that would be very cute i think

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

time after time- chef luca

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

a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I loved this idea and maybe got a little carried away... :)

summary: a look in at your life with luca

pairings: chef luca x fem! reader

warnings: kissing, cursing, smut (18+) (piv, oral (f reciving), fighting, anxiety, brief mention of vomit, reader gets hurt, blood, talk of injuries and stitches (i think that's it??)

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

As you walked into the Ever funeral, you couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia hit you like a wave. This was where you’d learnt to cook, where you met some of your best life-long friends, and of course, Luca. As you looked at the halls you’d known so well, you couldn’t help but think about your time there, and how it had impacted you, in every way.

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

Your first day…

You walked in ten minutes early. You were supposed to be twenty minutes early, if you hadn’t had to stop and vomit before you left your new apartment. Chicago was growing on you, though you were surprised at how cold it truly got there, since you’d been living in Spain for the past couple of years. You walked through the halls, everything new, as you greeted fellow students/ chefs. Everyone knew who you were, you were supposed to be a rising star in the food world, winning the ‘Rising Chef Award’ that year for your work in Azurmendi restaurant, a michelin star restaurant in Spain. You were supposed to be the best, so when people found out you weren’t, they would have a fucking field day.

Carmen Berzatto was quiet, but he was the person you clicked with the most. Clearly the mentally disturbed got along well, that's what you two said anyways.

Luca was a fucking prick. He was the cockiest of cocky pieces of shit, he was acting like he owned the place, and better yet, he was fucking stunningly gorgeous. You turned to your new friend, Gilian as she swooned over the British accent, tattoos, and built arms.

The day went by smoothly, hitting it off with other chefs in the group, but never really getting close enough to Luca to really see anything other than his cocky smirks and party-boy aura. You loved Ever already, and you were excelling. You got put with Gillian as your partner, and Carm was put with Luca, and though they both tried to switch, no one would take the other, so they were forced to deal with it.

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

Your first week…

Luca and Carmen were a match made in hell. They politely threw digs at each other right under Chef Andrea’s nose, and when they were caught, she was too fond of the both of them to actually punish them. You’d learnt that Carm had a great way of getting people to do the things he wanted them to, aka, screaming at the top of his lungs, and Luca was slower than Carm, which meant they were both equally as insufferable as each other. Like you said, match made in hell.

You stayed late one night, trying to perfect a recipe you were supposed to send back to Azurmendi. It was beating your ass, every single time it just felt wrong. Like something was missing.

You watched in horror as Luca walked into the kitchen, his apron on and a bowl of pastry dough in his hands.

God, this was going to be a long night.

“What are you making?” He asked, kneading the dough.

“Just something for Azurmendi,” you mumbled, not exactly wanting this conversation to progress. Some of the girls had been complaining about his ‘asshole behaviour’ but what they really meant was that he was handsome and didn’t want to go out with them.

“Can I see?’ he asked, and you nodded slowly, moving out of the way of the dish to let him try it.

It was a deconstructed caramelised banana pudding with raspberry compote that was still missing something. He walked around the counter, his eyes on you the whole time as you absorbed yourself in the plate. It looked beautiful, but did it taste good? You’d tried a hundred and one things with it, strawberry compote, vanilla sauces, mango, everything. This was your last resort.

He looked at the plater, moving it around to get different angles. It was a stunning presentation, he couldn’t lie. “What does it taste like?”

You shrugged. He chuckled.

“What?” he chuckled. “Are you messing with me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t like bananas, or raspberries,” you shrugged. “You taste it and tell me.”

He was in shock when you handed him a spoon. “You’re sure?” and you nodded.

He dug in, tasting the banana pudding, with the caramel, and the raspberry compote and… it was delicious. Probably the best thing he’d ever eaten, and from the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. See, you wouldn’t know this until years later but since the first day, he’d been looking at you. He’d wanted nothing more than to even be friends with you, he didn’t even know he;d one day become your boyfriend, then your fiancé, and soon, your husband. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

You smiled softly. “You sure?”

“Best thing I’ve ever eaten, hands down,” he nodded, taking another spoon.

You chuckled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, trust me, I’m not,” he said, shovelling another spoon into his mouth. “You mind if I finish this?” He asked, mouth full of the dessert. Usually stuff like that would make you gag, but Luca made it funny. You found yourself laughing. “Luca,” he smiled, holding out his hand for you to take once he’d finished his meal.

“Y/n,” you smiled.

“You’re really impressive, I’ve seen your stuff. I’d love to pick your brain about Azumendi, if you wouldn’t mind me geeking out about you for a few hours?” He smiled. He was pretty charismatic, and pretty well… pretty.

“Sure,” you nodded. “When are you free?”

“Saturday night? I know this great restaurant nearby,” He smiled.

“I’m free Saturday night,” you nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Sounds like a date to me!” Chef Andrea called from behind you two as she walked in. You two jumped apart, despite being pretty far apart to begin with.

“I-um-you didn’t- it doesn't have to be-” you stumbled over your words as Luca watched with a crooked smile on his face.

“It's a date,” he cut you off. “Unless you don’t want it to be.”

You nodded. “Then I think it’s a date,” you smiled.

Luca was sure to thank Andrea the next day.

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

Saturday night…

You got out of your chef white’s the second you got home and straight into getting ready for the date that was forty-five minutes away. You did your makeup, got dressed, then waited by the door for Luca.

The doorbell rang and there he was, pink shirt, black slacks and that same Luca smile. He looked you up and down and smiled. “God you’re fucking gorgeous.”

You felt yourself heat up at his comment. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He smiled wider and off you went to Lorenzo’s, an Italian spot near Ever.

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

The night went off perfectly, he was sweet, funny, and he actually listened to you as you geeked out about food and restaurants and everything in between. Luca was great.

When he dropped you back off at your apartment, you were laughing so hard you almost fell over, he caught you by the waist, pulling you into his as he chuckled.

You didn’t realise how close he was until you noticed his breath on your cheek. Soon, the laughing was softened to sweet smiles, and he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly, much softer than you'd imagined. His lips were sweet, still tasting of the berry dessert you’d shared after your delicious meal. You pull back, a shocked smile on your face.

“I really like you,” he admitted, blushing. “And I really want to take you out again.”

You smiled. “I’d really like that.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. He let go of you, watching as you unlocked your apartment door.

“Bye,” he smiled. You couldn’t resist, you pressed your lips to his again as his hands circled your waist and yours went to mess up his hair.

“Bye,” you called after you pulled away, turning to go inside. He looked so good like that, lips red, hair slightly tousled, shocked look on his face. It was nice. He was nice.

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

One month in…

Luca watched you as you walked into the kitchen, talking with Chef Andrea as she asked about the dish you had made in Azurmendi. He thought you were gorgeous, his eyes were always drawn to you in every room. The past month had been full of dinner dates, getting lunch, and sometimes meeting up for breakfasts before work. He was falling in love with you, and he knew it. Everything about you made him want to know more, to spend more time with you, to be with you. Granted, he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, but all that would change today. He’d decided that on your usual lunch break, he’d ask you to officially be his girlfriend. That was the right thing to do, right?

“You good man?” Carmen asked, chewing much too loud in Luca’s opinion.

“Fine,” he answered, finally out of his trance.

Carmen stared at him for a moment. “You good?”

“Good Chef,” he nodded.

“Cause it looks to me that you’re staring at Chef Y/n,” he observed. “And that means your head isn’t in the kitchen. Is your head not in the kitchen, Chef?”

“My head is as firmly in the kitchen as yours is up your ass Carm,” Luca retorted before leaving to grab his ingredients for the day. Carmen Berzatto was a dick, Luca had no idea what you saw in him as a friend.

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

You were cutting, the same as always. Then you felt the familiar nudge that CArm had been giving you in recent weeks, just a friendly tap on the back as he passed behind you. Then there was a knife in your hand. “Fuck!” More specifically, there was a huge gash in your hand.

Everyone’s eyes shot up, all attention on you. No one moved as you grabbed your hand, blood gushing as your eyes welled up. You crouched down, holding your hand in pain.

“Y/n-” Carm tried but Luca was quick to swoop in, kneeling beside you.

“Are you alright? Come on, let’s go,” he held you as he led you out of the kitchen. He held you close, practically carrying you as he put you into his car, rushing you to A&E.

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

Some stitches, a lot of bandages, and a blood bag later (you’d lost a lot), you were discharged and exhausted. Chicago A&E wait times are no fucking joke. Luca drove you back to your apartment.

“Anything I can do for you?” He asked, still worried about you.

“Do you want to come up and we can get takeout? I need to thank you for taking care of me today,” you chuckled. He shook his head, a smile on his face.

“No need for thanking, I’m just glad that you’re ok,” he smiled. “But I will take you up on dinner, since we missed our lunch date today.”

You walked up, hand in hand (not your hurt one), and led him into your apartment. He’d never truly been inside, only getting glimpses, but he knew he’d love it. It was perfect, it was so you. Knick-knacks from you various hobbies and pictures from your life, even one of you as a kid.

“Cute kid,” he smiled, picking up the photo. You laughed. “She’s cuter now.”

You rolled your eyes at his bad joke. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Lorenzo’s?” He offered.

“Wow,” you chuckled. “Call back to when we first started dating.”

He nodded. So you were dating, right? “Exactly.”

“Huh, look at that,” you smiled, trying to keep up the facade of not being very nervous about this. “It’s been exactly a month since.”

“Our one month anniversary,” he smiled and your heart melted. He also thought you were actually dating, even if he hadn’t specifically called you his girlfriend, and you hadn’t explicitly said he was your boyfriend.

He was silent for a moment, so were you. Just looking at each other.

“That means I can call you my girlfriend, right?” He asked, a bashful smile on his lips.

You smiled back. “Yes.”

“Good,” he groaned, pulling your waist into his. “I’ve been wanting to call you that all month.”

You chuckled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled. “So you’re my girlfriend.”

“So you’re my boyfriend,” you chuckled and he pressed his lips to yours.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked, pulling away.

“I don’t think I deserve that title after crying today. I’m an ugly crier,” you chuckled.

“You are not an ugly crier, plus it was Carmen’s fucking fault anyway,” he defended.

You shrugged. “Things happen in the kitchen.”

“And that wouldn’t have happened if Carm was such a piece of shit,” he cursed, smiling at you.

“Let’s just order dinner, yeah?”

He pressed his lips to yours again. “Yeah.”

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

Two months in…

You and Luca had both had a shit day, nothing had gone right in the kitchen, you’d burnt yourself, and Carmen was really getting on Luca’s nerves, to the point of a screaming match during lunch.

He pushed you up against the counter as he pressed searing kisses to your lips and neck. You were boiling, despite the freezing kitchen.

“Luc,” you groaned. You and Luca hadn’t gone further than heavy making out, and something told you that Luca wasn’t slowing down this time. It was late, you were the only two still there, who could it hurt?

He pulled your t-shirt over your head pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “So gorgeous.”

“Luca, someone could come in,” You hissed as he pressed kisses down your torso. “Luca!”

He looked up from between your legs, eyes dark and hair messy, and a part of you just didn’t care. You wanted him. “Please baby.”

You nodded, a smile on your face. He pulled off your jeans and underwear in one fluid movement as you lay back.

“So pretty baby,” he pressed kisses to the insides of your thighs as you started overthinking the entire situation. Someone could just come in, anyone, even Andrea, you had no fucking idea. Also, did Luca actually want to do this? Most guys didn’t like eating pussy, and you didn’t even know the last time you’d shaved.

He finally pressed his tongue against your clit and your brain short- circuited. “Luca!” You moaned, putting a hand in his hair. “Fuck Luca, there!”

Luca added a finger, then two, until you were writhing on the table, fucking you past your first orgasm and into another one, as he moaned along like he was being pleasured by this. He didn’t stop sucking and fucking your pussy with his tongue for a long time, despite how hard he was in his boxers, despite how much he wanted to fuck you. You tasted incredible, something he could only dream of recreating, oh, that was a good idea… Anyway, he fucked you through two orgasms, then stood back up.

You whined at the loss of contact as he unzipped his trousers, taking out his cock. God, he was big. Big, and fucking thick. “Luca I-”

“Are you on birth control?” He asked, spreading some of your slick over his cock and stroking himself.

You nodded. He smiled.

“Good girl.”

And with that, he pushed into you in one painful thrust. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his to yours in a searing kiss. He let you adjust, then slowly started moving.

“Faster,” you begged. “Faster Luca.”

He was all too happy to oblige.

And that’s how your first time fucking Luca was in the kitchen of Ever.

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

The big fight…

It had been a shit fucking week. Chicago was cold and damp, and your bike had gotten a flat on your way home from work. Shitty. On Monday, your trainee burnt you, then blamed you. On Tuesday, you didn’t even see Luca, he was too busy at Ever. On Wednesday, you smashed your phone screen. On Thursday, Luca’s mother called to say she was visiting next week, with absolutely no warning, so that meant you had to sort out your new apartment all night.

Shitty.

Luca barged in, angry from the week. All week he had been fucking up. Small mistake no one should be making, let alone him. Worst part? He hadn’t seen you all week. But there you were, sitting on the couch with a book, snuggled into a throw blanket.

“Hey,” he called out. No reply. “Baby?” No reply. “Babe!”

No reply. “Fine, fucking be like that.”

Luca marched into the bathroom, his anger bubbling.

You hadn’t even seen him enter, too engrossed in your novel and the music in your earphones to look up. After about an hour of reading, you left your cosy spot on the couch, retiring to the bedroom. And there he was, your Luca, lying in bed.

“Hey,” you smiled, climbing into bed beside him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he scoffed, pulling away from you. “You never fucking listen anyways.”

You were taken aback. Why the fuck was he being so pissy? “What?”

“It’d be great if you could even give me, your fucking boyfriend, a singular moment of your time, but I see that that’s too much to ask, so I’ll just go fuck myself.”

“Luca, what is wrong with you?” You huffed, confused at his words.

“Maybe I’ve had a shitty week alright? And maybe I wanted to spend time with you but you were too busy with your book to even fucking see me!”

You sighed. “Luc, I had headphones in, I couldn’t fucking hear you.”

“Oh yeah? And how many times have I asked you to turn down the volume or take one out so you can hear the world around you?” He asked condescendingly.

“Baby, you’re not meant to be home until 11 most nights, not 7:30. I thought I had time!”

“I sent you a text about it and all!”

“I wasn’t on my phone!” you defended.

He sighed. “I’m not doing this right now,” and he walked out of your bedroom, and out of the apartment.

And you were alone. What had just happened?

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

Luca took a walk to clear his head, but he just felt worse. He was being a dick and he knew it, but he was just so stressed. Work was hard, and you were the only one who made him feel good enough. And recently, since you’d transferred to another restaurant he’d been wondering if he was good enough in the kitchen, and for you.

You were amazing, countless chef awards, you’re a beautiful, stunning woman, but you were also kind, patient, and funny.

Was he enough for you?

And that night, it had all just exploded.

He walked back into the apartment to find you on the couch, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, nose running. He felt awful.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered, kneeling in front of you. “I’m such an arsehole.”

“Yeah you are,” you sniffled. “But so am I. I’m sorry about the headphones.”

He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was just stressed this week, and I’m just taking it out on you. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

You both froze. In your year and a half of dating, neither of you had been brave enough to admit that you loved each other, obviously, you both knew and felt the love, but neither of you had been brave enough to do it.

“Oh,” you said, and Luca looked up, a shocked look on his face. “I love you too,” you blurted out.

He smiled. “Good, I'm glad.”

You chuckled. “Me too.”

You both burst out laughing.

“That was so diplomatic!” you giggled.

“Who says ‘oh’ after someone says they love them?” Luca laughed, pulling you into his arms as you laughed.

Your fight had been long forgotten in a matter of seconds.

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

“Thinking about things?” Luca squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. He smirked at you.

“Maybe?” You smiled, holding him closer. “You?”

“Of course I am,” he whispered. “You looked so gorgeous on the counter-”

“Shut the fuck up!” You groaned.

Andrea suddenly appeared in front of you two, a bright smile on her face. “My two chefs!”

“Andrea!” You smiled, pulling her in for a hug. Andrea had always been one of your biggest supporters (well, her and Luca), always calling when she heard something new about your restaurant, and even coming to visit when she was in London.

“How are you two?” She asked. You smiled at Luca, who smiled back.

“We’re engaged,” you beamed, showing off the beautiful ring Luca had given to you, just a week ago.

“Oh my god!” she squealed. “What wonderful news!”

“What’s the wonderful news?” Carmen butted in, a smile on his face.

“We’re engaged,” Luca answered.

“Shit, congratulations!” He smiled, pulling you both in for a hug.

“Well, that is going to be one amazing wedding,” Andrea added. “Who’s your caterer?” She joked.

You both laughed. It felt good. It felt good to be this loved.

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

the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

#chef luca x reader #chef luca #the bear #will poulter #luca x reader #luca the bear #luca the bear x reader #the bear s3 #the bear fx #the bear season 3 #will poulter x reader #will poulter fic recs

296 notes · View notes

saltofmercury · 2 years

Note

* waving* heelllloooo, just want to say thank you for the “ break in” series! I love König and Civilian!readers, there’s not enough non military reader stories out there so i am always hunger for more.can I put in a request? I don’t know why this idea pops into my head and not sure if Soap has a younger sister, imagine his sister had a crush on König from meeting him during military family day ( im sure theres no such event lol) or some off duty team outing. Something like..

Sister: who’s that really big guy there johnny?

Soap, knowing his sis too well : oh no you don’t.. dont go there darling

Sis: but he is so cute like a huge costco teddy bear..very huggable

All the while König overheard the who convo, flattered +embarrassed + in disbelief

Thank you! If it’s too much just ignore me its ok 😂

Pairing: König x f!reader ft. Johnny + Ghost

Summary: You tag along to Johnny's party.

A/N: Thank you @sofasoap

"The Favorite MacTavish"

“You’re still on the fastest route.”

The navigation on loop. You focused on what you could tone out Johnny with.

Looking out the window, a blur of cars turned into a blur of bricks, that in turn ended up to just dirt and then open land. Dust. You’ve been sitting as a passenger princess the entire ride there. Johnny but insisting on lecturing you about what was expected of you.

It felt more like briefing you if you were being honest.

“I’m dead serious ya hear?” Johnny had turned and pointed a finger to you.

“You got to tone it down with Ghost.” “You were off ya trolley last time, I told ya to leave the poor man alone.”

You smiled. “It wasn’t anything too bad.”

Your mind flashed back to the last get together Johnny and his friends had. You had met the legendary “Ghost” that Johnny had worked with. A man with a skull face covering, taller and larger than any other of his teammates. A deep set British accent. (You and Johnny still argue if it’s Southern or Manchester.)

Ghost kind of bothered you that he was at a party. The man had radiated big fuck off vibes from you. It made no sense for him to be here.

All you saw was… someone crying for attention.. Or even a little competition.

You approached Ghost with a deal, if he were to out drink you, you would shut Johnny up the entire night, and if you were to outdrink him, he would join the group for 20 minutes.

The little game turned dangerous and it wasn’t until you had almost bested him in the tenth beer of the night that he almost tapped out. Almost beat by a MacTavish. It didn’t help that you were flirting with him a bit when he started to become sloppy, which you think became in your best interest.

One of the other teammates had lost it.

“Ghost is going to lose!”

Ghost looked loopy. Not even his skull painted covering could hide that. He ended up going to the cooler, bringing out 3 beers, chugging them one by one, and then remained in his stoic composure. It was truly a sight.

All of Johnny’s teammates never let that one go.

“Can’t believe Johnny’s little sister thought she could out drink Ghost.”

“I can’t believe she had him stuttering. Never heard the LT at a loss for words.”

“I think I like his sister more than Johnny.”

Johnny never lived it down, and never heard the end of it from Ghost.

“I actually don't know why I bothered bringing ya.” He continued.

You missed your older brother. It was hard seeing him a few times a year. With any opportunity to see him, including riding along to party with his teammates, you took. It helped that he had a soft spot for you.

“I won't make any promises, but I’ll leave Ghost alone.”

It wasn’t until an hour later that you had arrived. You remembered what Johnny had said. “No teasin’ Ghost.” “No trying to out drink anyone.” “Behave!”

You both walk up into a small beige house. There’s a plain white metal gate in front of it, but no live plants, just dirt. Endless dirt, dust, and rocks surrounding it, and a few other SUVs, Jeeps, and sedans.

You walk inside, right behind Johnny, mumbling in your head—

“No drinking, no ghosting.”

How annoying.

Once inside, you’re greeting everyone behind Johnny.

Gaz looks at you. “Well if it isn’t Ghost’s favorite little sister!”

You smile. “No ghosting tonight.”

Immediately looking toward Johnny, who was nodding in approval.

Much later when you're inside that you see him, along with a brand new set of faces that you aren’t familiar with.

There’s a lady with a small ponytail, some guy on a tablet and sunglasses on, and a guy who's got a black face mask on. This particular individual is more distant, pushed further away from everyone else. Looks big, bigger than Ghost.

He’s not alone, he’s got some other guy next to him talking about some game he was playing on his phone.

“Steamin’ Jesus” you think to yourself. How did this massive guy end up here?

You grab a hold of Johnny,

“Johnny, who’s that over there?”

Johnny had barely taken a sip of his 3rd beer before his eyes went wide.

“Aw Jesus Christ, no you don’t. Don’t you dare go there.” he says, grabbing a hold of your wrist.

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m just asking who the guy is!”

“Haud yer weesht! It's the same ol’ script with every single one of my teammates I swear to god.”

“Is he new?”

“He’s not with us.” He stops for dramatic effect.

Whispers- “That group over there is a different team.”

Oh.

The big guy is holding an electrolyte drink as opposed to any alcohol. He takes up the entire chair and he’s polite, nodding his head to his teammate, but quickly glancing back and forth towards you and Johnny.

“And I swear to god, you better not think of stepping over there, I’ll get Ghost to restrain you.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You said no Ghostin…”

Johnny pulled you a little closer to him, then quietly (his case of quiet) says

“Do you know what those guys do?”

“Military?”

“Christ on a bike… those there are contracted killers.”

You snort.

“Yeah fuckin' right Johnny and what do you call yourself? Saints?”

“I swear you’re so daft. Don’t go near them, stay with what you know.”

“I just want to introduce myself to them, it would be rude no?”

The guy in the mask looked harmless. He wasn’t drinking, he was among friends, he was simply waiting for someone to approach him.

The entire night you keep thinking of ways to get over it. You’ve got plenty of liquid courage in you now though.

“Just because he’s bigger than the rest of you, you’re intimidated.” The liquid courage was bubbling up inside you.

“Fucking hell, would you drop it?” Johnny says

“I just want to talk to him, Johnny!”

You made your way over to him.

Johnny’s eyes looked like they could burst out of their sockets.

“Hi, how are you? You know what, you don’t seem bad at all, you just seem big, but that's ok.”

The man looked at you wide eyed, beneath his mask formed some crinkle surrounding his eyes.

“I just wanted to let you know that you don't intimidate me, but quite frankly you encourage me to give you a hug.”

He smiled now, you could see it.

“You’re like a huge teddy bear even, have you been to the states? They got a whole warehouse full of teddy bears the size of you.”

A small laugh from him and his fingers running through his hair.

“In fact, I kind of wish I had you as my own size for a teddy bear… what do you say?”

Before he could respond, you were yanked up, thrown over someone’s shoulders.

“That’ll do mini MacTavish..” A British accent. Ghost was hauling you away.

You felt dizzy, and kept your eyesight on the big man.

“I MEAN it! You are not intimidating you're just in need of a hug.”

#könig x y/n #konig x you #konig x reader #könig mw2 #ask #request prompt #könig cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon riley #cod könig #cod fanfic

1K notes · View notes

vscabarca · 6 months

Text

photographer - pablo gavi

summary: gavi has a crush on the club‘s photographer, but he‘s afraid you don‘t speak spanish.

genre: fluff

———

Sitting on the couch with the phone in your hands, you scrolled through old pictures, smiling at all the beautiful moments you’ve experienced over the years. Giggling, you turned your head towards your boyfriend, gavi.

He was watching a random football game when he turned his head and shifted his attention to you.

„what‘s so funny hermosa?“ he asked, stroking your legs which were draped over his lap.

„i just found the picture i took of you when we first met.“ you snickered, making gavi turn his head in embarrassment.

„amor, this is so embarrassing.“ He groaned.

„no it was cute! It just makes me laugh that you told me you were too shy to speak english.“ you replied, shuffling closer to him and put you head on his chest.

———

„¿quién es?“ gavi asked fermin, trying to sound unbothered by your presence.

„who?“ fermin asked, not really understanding what his friend was saying.

„who is the new photographer? i’ve never seen her before.“ he tilted his head towards you, who recently started working as a club photographer. you were twenty, moving from England to Spain, pursuing your dream in sports photography. Pure coincidence led you to this job, now taking pictures of sweaty footballers every day. Couldn’t be better right?!

„ay Pablito likes the new photographer huh?“ fermin nudged him, earning a smack from his friend.

„OW!“

gavi wouldn’t tell anyone for the first few weeks but he found you very cute. During his trainings he glanced over to you sometimes, seeing you do your job and take pictures for the official FC Barcelona account.

After one particular fun practice, he walked back with Ansu to the locker room. On his way back, you stood on the sidelines, encouraging the players to pose for a post-practice picture.

It was the first time he heard your voice, a british accent coming through.

„smile!“ you asked kindly when ansu and gavi walked past. Both flashed you a smile, making your lips turn upwards too.

After the „click“ sound, you glanced back up, holding eye contact with gavi for a few seconds. As the two players disappeared into the tunnel, you couldn’t help but blush at the thought of the nineteen year old.

@fcbarcelona: training done🫡 ✅

———

„just ask her out after practice hermano!“ pedri urged gavi but he just shook his head resolutely.

pedri found out about his little crush not much later. gavi wasn’t the best at keeping things to himself, he just couldn’t keep secrets.

„hermano, I can’t speak english!“ he spoke frustrated after hearing you talk with a british accent.

pedri just laughed out loud, his head flying back as he clutched onto his chest.

„bro, be serious I bet she can speak spanish. At least a bit. You can speak english too!“ pedri argued, encouraging his younger friend to make a move.

„Have you ever heard me speak english? I sound stupid with my accent!“ gavi just waved him off, getting into a shower to clear his mind.

It has been a week later and gavi still didn’t talk to you. His heartache grew stronger over time, seeing you everyday engrossed in your work made him weak. Little did he know, you had your focus more on gavi than on any other player, snapping some good pictures of him during practice.

The next day, gavi came home late, deciding to ask you out the day after. Stressed as he was, he downloaded Duolingo to do about three exercises before he grew even more stressed and deleted the app again.

———

tying his boots, he received a crash course from ansu. he could speak english quite well in contrast to gavi.

mid-sentence he shot up, glaring at his friend.

„how do you know I have a crush on the photographer?“ he asked bewildered as he saw ansus smirk on his lips.

„almost the whole team knows, don’t tell pedri your secrets pablito.“

he was fuming but walked off earning funny faces from his teammates.

you were doing your job like always, trying to get some good shots when gavi walked in front of the lens, doing a silly pose.

you glanced up from the camera, blushing as you saw gavi smiling at you.

„did you get a good shot?“ he asked rather shy, his thick spanish accent coming through.

„yeah. not really hard when you’re the model.“ you chuckled, seeing Gavis lips curl up into a smile at your words.

„could be the other way around too, you know?“

your heart fluttered after hearing the footballers words, a blush creeping up your face.

„i‘m gavi by the way.“

you just laughed, seeing the puzzled expression on the boy’s face.

„i know who you are, silly. I‘m Y/n.“ you said, feeling much more comfortable now after seeing how nice gavi actually was.

he relaxed too, feeling a good connection between the two of you.

„so, i‘ve seen you around for some time now and thought you were really cute. is there a chance to get to know you better?“ gavi asked, before seeing his teammates walk onto the pitch alongside xavi.

„yes of course. i could give you my number.“ you offered and placed the camera down next to you.

„Sería perfecto.“ Gavi answered, forgetting you didn‘t speak Spanish.

„my english isn’t the best, i mix it up sometimes.“ He said and scratched the back of his head.

„don’t worry, your english is perfect. I‘m the one who should learn spanish!“

He smiled softly at you when you scribbled your number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

„gavi! come here!“ xavi shouted, interrupting the cute moment between you two.

gavi glanced over his shoulder, seeing the whole team staring at you.

„go, or else xavi will kill me for talking to his beloved youngster.“ you chuckled as Gavi laughed at your joke, pulling you in a short hug.

„see you around. i‘ll text you.“ he spoke, already running to the group before he earned a slap on his head from pedri. fermin basically jumped onto his back as he told them what the two of them were talking about.

———

„if you didn’t speak English that day, i probably wouldn’t sit on your lap right now, don’t you think?“ you asked and put your hands around his neck, pulling gavi closer to you.

He just smirked cockily, pulling you into a sweet kiss and mumbled a quiet „mhmm“.

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #gavi x reader #gavi one shot #barca #football x reader #football one shot #fc barcelona #fermin lopez x reader #pedri x reader

364 notes · View notes

spacesapphi · 1 month

Text

HES Trio Headcanons (the third)

That's right guys, another one (my brain is rotted). These three live in my head rent free

some the Shane ones are sad again, sorry

Elliott

-had a pet hermit crab as a kid, he's always been a friend of the crabs!

- prefers fancy, decorative candles to scented ones. The prettier the better!

- trying his best to make his room look like Howls from Howls Moving Castle. That clutter of beautiful trinkets is exactly what he wants for a setup

- loves wearing his hair in braids, but is terrible at doing braids on himself. He usually asks Leah

- Willy is like a father to him. His bio father was not a kind man, and Willy is everything he wished his father could be and more

- Willy taught him how to fish too, and he's actually pretty good at it!

- very into a "method acting" style of writing, as in he'll live like a character he's trying to write for a while until he feels like he can realistically interpret them in his writing

- faked a British accent for about a month in middle school because he thought it sounded very sophisticated and artsy

Harvey

- won't tell anyone, but he enjoys little Saturday morning cartoons now and then. It reminds him of the moments of joy he felt when he was little and he cherishes that

- tried to shave off his mustache once and seeing how he looked without it scared him so bad he vowed not to do it again. It looks so bad 😭💔

- wears that Ebenezer scrooge lookin nightgown and cap unironically, swears that it helps him sleep better

- lactose intolerant and has a gluten allergy. He doesn't like cheese and baked goods because of it, they make him really sick

- that being said, if u made/bought him gluten free stuff he would act like he owes his life to you

- once he was at the library at the same time Penny was tutoring the kids. It was during free reading time and Vincent told him he looked like a character in the book he was reading. It was Geronimo Stilton. Harvey has still not recovered from that

- really wanted siblings as a little kid but never had them, so he created an imaginary friend for himself and pretended to go on aviation missions with them

- has a lil gap between his front teeth, he gets a bit shy about it, but it's cute when he smiles and you can see it

Shane

- I changed my height headcanon, bro is 5'3 now

- his ENTIRE family is very short, his mom and Marnie are 5'0. Jas' parents were tall though so once she's older she's absolutely towering over Marnie and Shane

- had very long hair before taking in Jas. For many reasons, especially maintenance, he's kept it short since adopting her

- Him stealing food from Joja is a habit built from necessity, from the time before he moved back in with Marnie. He got to the point financially that he was often stealing food for him and Jas, because he was often forced to choose between groceries and paying rent.

- he's not a vegetarian, but he refuses to eat chicken specifically. Everytime he tries, he just can't bring himself to do it. He loves chickens too much

- even then, he still ate very little. Stealing was risky and he wanted to make sure Jas was given what she needed first. He always had her eat first, and would eat whatever she didn't, like crusts or veggies she didn't like. The night he moved back in with Marnie was the first time he had an actual meal in about a year

- After he starts recovery, he tries to be better friends with Penny given that she's Jas' teacher. She isn't very interested in being close with him, but he still tries to be friendly

- has an arsenal of dad jokes at the ready at any given moment, you are not prepared for how corny this man gets

- forever salty that LEWIS of all people is beating him on the junimo kart leaderboards

- He and Sam have a workplace besties kinda relationship. They still stay pretty good friends after Joja closes, Shane goes to all of his bands shows to show support

- the only festivals he really cares about are the egg festival, luau and Stardew valley fair. The rest he'll go to because it makes Jas and Marnie happy, but those three he has a passion for

#stardew valley #sdv #hes trio #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #sdv elliott #stardew valley harvey #sdv harvey #elliot stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley elliott #Stardew Valley headcanons

95 notes · View notes

2knightt · 1 year

Note

can u do a johnny cade fic where he gives readers maximum princess treatment ?? like helping take off ur shoes and giving u a piggy back ride when ur feet hurt, and getting genuinely frustrated when u won’t let him open doors for u. HEHEH AHH🤭 pleaseeee and thank you sm sm !!

↳she just went to heaven and back!₊˚✧

➬ johnny cade x fem!reader

a/n;SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT OMFG. AND TOTALLY I LOVE THE THOUGHT OF PRINCESS TREATMENT OMFG!!!

he’s so whipped for you, let’s get that out of the way.

he does anything and everything for you.

REFUSES TO LET YOU EVEN MOVE A FINGER.

he helps you get out of cars, like he’s rushing to your door.

“wait a second, babe!”

“okay?”

then he comes tearing around the corner to open your door, holding his hand out for you to take it.

“ma’am.”

he said, bowing down with a fake british accent as you accepted his hand with a chuckle.

“why, thank you sir!”

no but like, you’re so right. he totally takes your shoes off before his.

like, he doesn’t even think of taking his shoes off unless yours are off.

you just sat down on a chair to take off your shoes, as normal.

until johnny kneels down infront of you, and takes them off himself.

“what are you doing?”

you asked him, laughing a little.

“takin’ off your shoes so you can go lay down faster.”

he answered, taking the other shoe off.

PIGGYBACK RIDES WITH JOHNNY CADE OMFG!!!

you had been walking all night with johnny, in not the best shoes.

they hurt your feet after walking for 20 minutes, you don’t even know why you picked them.

so, like anyone would do, you started to complain.

“ugh!! my feet are killing me!”

“why?”

“these shoes i picked! they suck, man.”

you looked at johnny and he was looking down at the ground.

until he asked you a question.

“well, want a piggyback ride? i know your house ain’t too far.”

you whipped your head to face him so fast, you could’ve sworn you got whiplash!

johnny just looked at you, confused.

why are you so shocked? he loves you, don’t he?

“really?”

“yeah, really.”

he answered with a sigh, as you jumped on his back.

he definitely ran for awhile just to see you smile or hear your laugh.

even if you don’t like your smile or your laugh, johnny thinks it’s the most beautiful thing ever.

you two were walkin’ into the dingo a week later.

for a cute date, he said.

and who are you to decline a date from the cutest boy in tusla?

you were walking ahead of him since he picked up his cigarette box he dropped.

and since you were ahead you opened the door yourseld, and that made johnny cade stop in his tracks!

he raced into the dingo and ran right in front of you.

“what?”

“what do you mean, ‘what?’ you opened the door.”

“so? i had to get in.”

“yeah but, i always open doors for you!”

he said, looking like a toddler that didn’t get his way.

you sighed at his behaviour and chuckled.

“would you like for me to go back outside just to let you open the door for me?”

johnny thought for a minute before opening his mouth,

“yes.”

“…seriously?”

“yes, SERIOUSLY.”

you sighed at your boyfriend and turned around to walk outside, but you couldn’t help but smile.

you walked outside and waited as your boyfriend ran outside and then ran towards the door, again.

johnny then opened the door for you, smiling so bright.

you, yourself, couldn’t help but grin at your boyfriend.

johnny cade can and will treat you like royalty if you ask him too.

well—not ask, more like, you being blessed by the gods.

but overall, johnny thinks you’re absolutely perfect in every way and should be TREATED that way!

may 28th, 2023. 12:00PM

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny x reader

410 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 1 year

Note

can we get a cute little something between yn and simone maybe current. maybe they do a little girls day and harry isn’t jealous but finds it hard to handle because yn has a special relationship with her since she spent so much time with simone. but harry would be the sweetest and be supportive and when they get back ask all about it.

you can totally change that i just rambled with what I thought apparently lol

summary: three times young mom!reader and simone went on their mommy-daughter dates

word count: 3k

mostly y/n and not harry which y'all might not like, but i thought it was cute

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

The first time Y/n took Simone out on a Mommy-daughter date, she was seven months pregnant. She was alone in Holmes Chapel, a town she was relatively new to, with nothing to do. Harry was across the globe on tour because his management wouldn’t let him come home until the last possible moment, his mother was at work, and she was in her boyfriend’s childhood home, balancing a bowl of chocolate covered almonds on her baby bump and flipping through British reality television, which was decidedly not as good as the American programs.

“What should we do today, little melon?” she asked, rubbing her belly. Laughing to herself, she added, “Not so little anymore.”

Not that there was anything to do. Holmes Chapel was fairly sleepy, with a small strip of stores on the main road and farmland. Lots and lots of farmland. It was nothing like Y/n was used to growing up, and while Anne was nice, she didn’t know the woman all that well and didn’t really know how to talk to her. It felt like there was a big elephant in the room every time they sat down to eat.

But Y/n was so bored. She was used to going out with friends, talking to people, feeling the sun on her skin. Holmes Chapel was not home, but it was too late to go back now, though the house she grew up in currently wasn’t all that inviting either.

She eventually decided on getting her nails done. Y/n had seen one salon when she went with Anne to the grocery store, and it was the first thing she thought of now. Struggling to an upright position, she put on some comfortable clothes, slid into her shoes, and set off.

Y/n ignored the stares as she passed people on the street. She got a lot of stares now that she couldn’t hide her bump anymore. Friends of Anne asked who Y/n was with wide eyes the first time they’d gone out together, and Anne calmly explained that Y/n was a cousin’s friend who needed a place to stay. Not the truth, but they weren’t allowed to tell the truth. And since Y/n had a young face, people stared, showed their visible disdain or disapproval of her being pregnant at such a young age. She was sick of the looks, which was why she mostly kept to the confines of Anne’s home, but she was feeling particularly restless today and decided to just deal with everyone’s judgment.

Anne never judged her, though. Not once, which Y/n appreciated.

The nail salon was small with a tinny bell attached to the door, announcing her arrival to the establishment. The woman manning the front desk widened her eyes at the sight of Y/n’s belly, but thankfully recovered quickly. “Can I help you?”

“A manicure and a pedicure, please?” she asked, hating how heads turned at the sound of her accent. Another thing that made her stick out around here.

“Of course, right this way,” the woman said, pointing to one of the cushiony chairs with a tub attached.

Y/n knew she didn’t really have much money to be spending on something like getting her nails done, but she just felt so gross some days. Her ankles were swelling, she had acne, got hot flashes, got nauseous around certain smells. This was a small thing to make her feel just a little more normal again.

She heaved herself into the chair, resting her head with her eyes closed once she got her feet up. The walk had made her tired, made her feet hurt, but it was worth it.

“Miss?”

Y/n opened her eyes to find a different woman standing next to her. “Hi, sorry. Just a little tired.”

“Did you walk here?” she asked Y/n, eyes widening for a completely different reason than talking to a teen mom.

“Yeah, I—I don’t have a car,” Y/n said lamely. Not that she’d be able to drive in a completely different country anyway. “But it’s fine, I—Oh shoot. I forgot to pick out a color.”

She began to get out of her seat when the woman rested a hand on her shoulder. “No need. What color were you thinking?”

“Light yellow? Pastel?” she said, the color of one of the onesies she bought online the other day coming to mind. It felt silly to think about matching with her baby that hadn’t even been born yet, but it was out before Y/n could take it back.

“I know just the thing. Toes too?”

Y/n nodded before resting her head again. She picked up her phone. To play a game or scroll through Instagram, she wasn’t sure. Y/n didn’t like going on social media all that much these days. It was a reminder of her life back home, of all her friends moving on and doing normal eighteen year old things. She didn’t regret her decision in having the baby or moving, but some days were better than others.

She decided on a message to Harry instead. He probably wouldn’t see it for a few hours, but she knew he would appreciate waking up to or coming off the stage to an update.

Y/n: on my first official mommy daughter date!

Before she hit send, she quickly erased the message and closed her phone.

I’m a mom, she thought. Y/n was seven months pregnant, and she would be having a baby soon, but she’d never called herself a mom before, didn’t believe it until right this second. But she was a mom. A good, bad, or average one time would only tell, but it scared her none the less.

“How far along are you?”

Y/n looked to her right at the woman who was sitting in the chair beside hers. Middle aged, clear skin, kind brown eyes. She didn’t look at Y/n the way other people did. There was no judgment, no preconceived notions about what kind of girl Y/n was, just plain curiosity.

Clearing her throat, Y/n said, “Twenty-nine weeks.”

“Almost to the end, then,” the woman said. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“I think so. Have to run it by the dad first,” she said, resting her hands on her bump instinctively. “But I call her Simone.”

“That’s beautiful,” the woman said. “Can I offer a tip?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Lavender and chamomile,” she said. “Essential oils that help with relaxation and peaceful sleep.”

Y/n knew she probably looked exhausted, which was why the woman offered that particular piece of advice, but Y/n took it happily anyway. “That really helps?”

The woman smiled, and it wasn’t in a condescending way. “It does. The smells are supposed to relax you.”

Before Y/n could say anything else, her nail tech returned with two bottles of nail polish in slightly different shades of pastel yellow in her hand. “How do these look?”

For the next hour, Y/n didn’t worry about a thing. She let the nail tech take care of her, who encouraged Y/n to close her eyes and relax. And she did. For a whole hour, the baby didn’t kick, her back didn’t hurt, and she felt her shoulders slowly lose tension. She almost didn’t want it to be over. When it was, though, Y/n felt ten times better. She felt normal, a feeling that was hard to come by these days.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to her nail tech, handing cash over. “I…I really needed this.”

“Come back when your daughter is old enough,” the woman said. “You can get matching nails together.”

And when little Simone was old enough, Y/n did take her to the small nail salon. Her feet dangled in the cushiony chair, and she giggled when someone tried to touch her feet. She and Y/n got matching sparkly purple nails because that was what Simone wanted, and Y/n couldn’t help but comply. And everyone was just as nice and doting as the first time Y/n came in, and every time after that.

That was a favorite outing for Y/n and Simone when they did their mommy-daughter dates. They wouldn’t always go to the salon in Holmes Chapel, of course, but they got their nails done together frequently, from the first time with the sparkly nails and to Simone’s first dance and so on.

“Are you sure Daddy can’t come?”

“It’s for me and Mommy only! No Daddy allowed!”

Harry clutched his chest as if Simone had wounded him. He leaned back on the couch and slid down a little, making a real show of it. He peeked an eye open to see Simone’s reaction. Her hair, which was tied up in two little pigtails with bows on each one, swung back and forth as she shook her head, clearly exasperated by her father’s antics.

“We can play later, Daddy,” she said, skipping over to Harry. She jumped onto his stomach and squished his cheeks between her hands. “Stop being sad.”

“I can’t. Your mother is hogging you. She’s hogging my baby,” he joked. Kind of.

Harry knew all about Y/n and Simone’s mommy-daughter dates. Y/n often went out with Simone when they joined him on tour. She liked to get Simone out of the hotel rooms, find something fun for the two of them to do together. Harry was all for it, of course. He didn’t like that Y/n sometimes felt trapped when she traveled with him, and this was an opportunity to see the world in a way that some people didn’t get to. He sometimes felt left out, but he imagined that was how Y/n felt a lot of the time.

“You’d hate it. We’re going to the American Girl Doll store.”

Harry raised his eyes to see Y/n standing at the foot of the couch dressed for the day in a flowy sundress that covered her baby bump. Baby number two, Harry thought excitedly. He didn’t think that would be in their cards, but all it took was a few months of him being on hiatus and bam! Y/n was pregnant.

Putting an affronted hand on his chest, Harry said, “I love American Girl Dolls.”

Y/n bent down and kissed his forehead. “Then we can go again tomorrow. I’m sure our little melon won’t mind, will she?”

Simone nodded excitedly. “You can come with us tomorrow, Daddy!”

Tapping Simone on the nose with his knuckle, Harry said, “Promise?”

Simone nodded, showing off her biggest smile, which was now missing a tooth. “Promise.”

Y/n reached down and stretched her arms out to take Simone, and she happily leapt up into her arms. Behind his daughter’s back, Harry stuck his tongue out at Y/n, and once Simone was settled with her, Y/n stuck her tongue out back at him.

Simone was asleep when she and Y/n came back. “A long day of shopping,” Y/n said, passing the sleeping five year old over to him. Harry spent the afternoon reading and watching TV and doing a little bit of writing while they were gone, but he just wanted to be with his girls, all three of them. He knew Y/n and Simone’s days together were special, and he knew that he could just as easily have his own special day with his daughter, but sometimes he felt like there was an invisible wall with Y/n and Simone on one side and him on the other. He was doing all he could to get past or move around it, but they were so close having spent so much time together, just the two of them.

“You know,” Y/n said, settling onto the bed next to him. “All my little melon could talk about was showing you the doll she bought today.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. She wanted to wait until tomorrow to pick out all of the clothes and accessories because you have the best clothes.”

Harry grinned, running a hand over one of Simone’s pigtails. “Really?”

Y/n leaned over and kissed her husband’s cheek. “She loves you. Just as much as she loves me.”

“I know,” he said, a blush pinking his cheeks. “I know she does, but—”

“Simone idolizes you, baby,” Y/n said. “You, sir, are her hero. She asked me the other day if she could bring you to Career Day. And before that, she said she wanted to be you for Halloween.”

“I’d be the coolest dad at Career Day,” Harry said, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“You would, and you’re the coolest dad here too. At home. So no more moping. No more pouting about mommy-daughter time, you hear me?”

“I hear you. No more pouting. Kiss?”

Y/n hummed, somewhat suspiciously. “Sometimes I think you pout just so I’ll kiss you.”

“I would never,” Harry said with a gasp, but he was grinning just the same as he leaned in. “Is it working?”

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You’re lucky you’re cute. Come here.”

“So, who’s the boy?”

“Wha—What are you talking about? There’s no—How did you know?”

Y/n grinned and winked at Simone from her seat in the salon chair. “I’m your mother, Simone. I know everything.”

Simone huffed and sat back in her chair. “I thought that was just a line parents used to scare their kids.”

“Sometimes it is, most times it isn’t,” Y/n said. “So…?”

Y/n knew Simone would’ve fiddled with her hands if she could, but the nail tech was currently working on painting one of them a pale yellow. “He…hardly notices me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We sit next to each other in history class and sometimes we work on discussion questions together, but other than that it’s like—it’s like we live on two different planets. How do I get him to notice me?”

“How should I know? I don’t have much experience when it comes to guys,” Y/n said, joking with her daughter just a little.

Seeing right through it, Simone narrowed her eyes at Y/n and said, “You’ve been with Dad since you were seventeen. You know something.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Y/n said. “I’m not gonna tell you how I charmed your father because you’ll go, ‘Ew you’re my parents! Don’t talk about Dad like that!’ So I won’t. What I can tell you is be yourself and if there is a common interest between the two of you that doesn’t have to do with history homework, and start there. Shared interests is always a great place to start.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple.”

“Oh.”

Simone and Y/n were quiet for few minutes while the women in the small nail salon they’d been going to for years worked on their hands. Y/n didn’t live in Anne’s house in Holmes Chapel, and she was far from pregnant, but she still liked to come back and get her nails done with Simone whenever they came back to visit Harry’s family. Simone got harder and harder to pin down as she got older, but Y/n was always surprised when her oldest daughter cancelled her plans when she offered they go somewhere, just the two of them. Y/n loved all of her children dearly and had a special connection with each of them. But these moments, this one on one time with Simone was something she held close to her heart.

“Dad’s gonna freak when he finds out, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Not sure I can stop that, sorry.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just not tell him?”

“He’s my husband, little melon. I tell him everything.”

“Well can you hold off until there’s actually something to say?”

Y/n took the free moment to lean over to Simone’s chair and kissed her forehead. “Course.”

After they finished getting their nails done, they took the familiar walk back to Anne’s house. Y/n looped her arm through Simone’s, enjoying the familiar press of her daughter against her side. “You know, when I was about your age—”

“You walked all the way from Nana’s house with me in your belly so you could get your nail’s done. I remember,” Simone said. Y/n told the story every time they went to the salon together.

“Are you going to let me finish?”

“Go ahead.”

So Y/n continued her story all the way until they reached the house. “And when I told your dad about it, he was so jealous. He was all, ‘I can get my nails done too, you know!’ But I said, ‘No. Get you’re own thing. This is ours,’” she said.

“Dad and I don’t have a thing,” Simone said.

“Sure you do. He’ll help you pick out your prom dress, pay for college, and walk you down the aisle. That’s three things right there.”

“Now I get to tell Dad something that’ll make him annoyed with you.”

Y/n playfully pinched Simone’s arm. “You listen here, my little melon, Harry Styles is a lot of things, and at the top of that list is an absolute pushover when it comes to his children. He would make traveling to the moon your ‘thing’ if you asked him.”

“I know. We go to the movies every two weeks. He and Julian go for drives to the grocery store when we’re all on our periods, and…I think he recently took up surfing with Maeve.”

Y/n knew all of this, of course. Harry was always looking to spend time with his kids, and now that they were all getting older and more independent, it was harder to get alone time with them. Except for Natalia and Geneva, who were still young and thought he was the coolest person on the planet. Y/n and Simone had their little dates, and now Y/n got to impart wisdom to her daughter from time to time, but for as long as Simone could speak she and Harry had their thing: she and Harry were terrible gossips.

“Hm. So, what do you think? Lunch before going home? Thrift store?” Y/n asked.

“Let’s just go back. I’m sure the house has descended into chaos without us,” Simone said, picking up her pace.

Y/n grinned and followed her daughter down the familiar sidewalk, each step bringing back memories of all the times she’d walked down it; from having a baby in her belly to holding her in her arms to walking side by side with her daughter who was now taller than her.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young dadrry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

557 notes · View notes

diejager · 2 years

Text

Chapter 1

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Cw: none in this chapter.

Series masterlist

Laswell had informed their Task Force after the briefing that a newly appointed sergeant, both she and Price had specifically chosen them, picked them from the mass of qualified and unqualified soldiers in the SAS to join the Special ops Task Force 141. It had taken Laswell a few days to have the transfer approved by Lieutenant General Shepherd; which he did.

They had a week to prepare for their arrival and the mystery sergeant that they would share barracks and bunks with them. Soap had droned about their gender, their name, their callsign - Winter, Price told them when he searched for them in the Mess Hall - and their personality. Gaz and Roach both shared his excitement, remembering that the last time that someone new joined them - Roach - was a few years or so.

They seemed like young high school girls gushing about a cute boy or a pretty girl they saw walking down the hall, so much excitement and mirth.

When the time came, Soap had forced Ghost to meet them at the landing site, wanting to be the first team in the base to greet their new member. Ghost grumbled behind the trio, a brooding figure following his brothers. He was guarded, eyes glazed over with wariness as he waited behind the 141 once Price met up before the aircraft landed.

Time seemed to stretch as they watched it land, engines stopped before the cargo door opened slowly. Ghost could hear a low thank you with steady steps echoing around the hatch, his mind swam with everything he had read about them - her, you.

Ghost had asked Price for your file, wanting to know who he would have to meet and work with, suspicion and alert for any dangers that you would bring. He remembers reading it over and over again days prior to your arrival, committing every little piece of information to his mind. Your name was (Name) (L/N) - callsign Winter - a woman with a long list of successful deployments as a sniper and infiltration specialist, both things he saw worth in; however, the added note of combat medic made your skills twice as important.

None of them were well versed in medical care, finding the knowledge of basic care enough to push past the dangers of bullets and grenades. If you were as skilled as your file implied, Ghost would be able to stop worrying so much about Soap or Roach getting hurt by acting recklessly - something they seemed to be prone to.

You approached them with such ease, light on your feet even with a tactical vest being weighted over by a duffle bag, black and in pristine condition. You turned to wave at the pilots and whoever had accompanied you one last time, walking until you were faced with Price. The tilt and smile you gave was innocent, taking the hand Price gave you and shaking it firmly, still smiling.

"It's nice to see you again, Captain," you spoke with respect.

Your voice was soft - perhaps too gentle for a battle-scarred and hardened soldier in the SAS - and would be easily missed between hardy men.

"Winter, welcome, " he returned with a nod, a smile hidden under his thick mustache and wrinkled eyes squinted in recognizable joy. "Meet the team."

He moved, facing his Task Force with his head held high - pride, Ghost could tell he felt proud of his little, dysfunctional family - and let them greet you. "Soap and Gaz," his head cocked towards the smiling men, the Scot and Brit fighting the urge to swarm you with a warm welcome.

Soap, the Scottish, SAS sergeant, shook your hand, feeling the significant difference in size between you both. He dwarfed you by a head, standing sharp and tall with the same boyish smirk and boisterous personality that drew people in: "Soap MacTavish, nice t'meet ya, Winter."

Gaz, the olive-skinned man followed after Soap, voice silky soft with his softer British accent than Price. He shook your hand with a similarly boyish smile, shorter than Soap, but still standing over you. He shook your hand with more finesse, gentler than his brother:

"Gaz Garrick, a pleasure, Winter."

A masked man with gentle, caring green eyes stepped into the place Soap and Gaz were previously in, gloved hands moving in swift gestures. He was signing to you, perhaps he was mute or simply preferred signing over talking.

"Roach, he signs," Price cautioned you, watching your reaction to the young sergeant.

They all were, wanting to gauge your expression at the news that one of your new teammates would use BSL. Although most knew the basics, complicated words being a bit more complicated to learn, they wanted to know whether you'd ridicule Roach for his choice or do nothing of it. It was the kind of protection that grew within the team, a family protects their own.

Your head tilted right, eyes wide as a smile stretched your cheeks, you raised your own hands and greeted the mute sergeant, Hi Roach, it's nice to meet you. He practically beamed, hands moving to shape each letter in a quick sequence, matching the pace of your sign, somehow too quick for the rest of the team to catch. You know BSL, I haven't seen anyone with fluent BSL in a while, his mask wrinkled with the smile that spread over his lips.

I have a friend who was born mute, learned it to talk to her.

They watched your silent conversation, understanding a few snips here and there, but the rest seemed to pass on quickly. Now, they knew you'd do fine with Roach, both being so fluent in BSL (Ghost doesn't remember finding any notion of your language skills in your file, perhaps some information was withheld by you or someone, or you hadn't bothered telling anyone of your fluency since most soldiers spoke fine with their rumbling voices).

After he pulled away, the last member left was Ghost, his tall, towering figure that stood over you like an impenetrable wall of muscle. He was silent, eerily so that you'd beat that most privates on base would shit their pants if they met him.

"Ghost," were his only words, a curt nod and a glare before he left, his back so broad that the shadow he cast on the cemented ground stretched on and on like a beast in hiding. His voice was deep and gravy when he spoke his name, his callsign was like the summons of a demon, a Ghost.

"Don't mind him, L.T's like that ta everyone. He'll warm up to ya," Soap promised, strutting to your side, and slinging an arm around your shoulder to bring you closer to him. "How 'bout I show ya round? You'll be bunkin' with Roach, that fine with ya?"

Roach reaffirmed his testament when you turned to him, asking him if it were alright with him, having to share his barrack when he'd been sleeping alone for a while.

I'm fine, I'll finally have a roommate to brag about, his shoulders shook with a muddled chuckle.

Tag list (reply here if you want to be tagged): @lauraliisa @iirosietumbles @thefairybird @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @tayaisback @deadpoetsandhoney @ghost-reine @raidenmylove @sollucifer @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @mandythemint @static-knight @suzuyamitsuki @rk111 @shuttlelauncher81 @discowizard88 @v1naco @imjustabebeh2003 @tbrfic @hotchlover @mstosi

#x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #soap mw2 #mw2 x reader #gaz mw2 #price mw2 #task force 141

569 notes · View notes

stonesylove · 8 months

Text

Just needed to get this idea out of my head, This is going to be a fic, i don't know how many part it would have but bear with me

oc female character and Tom Blyth (he wasn't that famous yet)

Summary: Alessandra and Tom met on a casual night out in Berlin while he's filming the prequel of the hunger games, both of them are down for a little three month affair but what if they want a little bit more.

social media au

A night out in Berlin pt.1

The night we met

Chapter 2

After a long day in set, Tom was too tired to do anything but he had made plans in the morning with Hunter and she was dying to go to this underground bar that all her Berlin friends had recommended to her, he wasn’t in the mood but at the same time he wanted to get loose and forget about all his responsibilities just for the night. Tom picked up his bag and his puffer jacket and walked out of his trailer ready to go to his hotel, have a shower and get ready, when he heard Hunter shouting “TOM I WILL PICK YOU UP AT 11 PM, ALL BLACK ATTIRE BABE” gaining some looks from the other people walking next to the trailers, he just looked at her and screamed okay.

Tom got into his hotel room then took his jacket, his shirt and his shoes to then throw himself to the bed and while laying down he pulled the phone out of his pocket to put an alarm for 10 pm and then proceeded to take a nap. Tom got up to shut his phone up and got up while feeling like he just slept for 5 minutes, quickly he got into the shower and got ready with an all black fit as Hunter told him to, he was about to brush his hair but then remembered that he had to go bald because of the film, although he hated it at least it had some perks. He was putting on some cologne when he heard someone knocking on his door.

He looked to his phone and saw that it was 11 pm, he opened the door and Hunter said“I promise you’re going to have so much fun” she said with the biggest smile.

They arrived to the club, for what he saw it was just dark with a bunch of colorful lights but it was a vibe, they started drinking and then they got up and started to dance. At some point of the night he was by himself dancing around people he didn’t know, the sound of the music was the only company he truly needed, of course he’ll catch up with Hunter at some point but for what matters right now it was just him moving to the sound of the music and the drink in his hand when he felt someone bumping into him, he turned around and saw a short brunette with a beautiful dress

“And tut mir leid” she said in German with a sorry look in her face, “I’m so sorry, I don’t speak German“ Tom answered with a confused looked.

“Me neither, so sorry for bumping into you” she said with a more cheerful tone to what Tom replied “Don’t worry, I’m Tom by the way”.

“Cute name, I’m Alessandra” she said taking his hand and starting to dance with him, Tom was completely surprise with the action but happy she took the first step.

The way she moved was all that Tom could’ve dream of and for what he saw under the colorful lights she had the face of an angel, she looked tan and maybe with dark brown eyes but he couldn’t tell. They danced for three songs and when the fourth was about to start, Tom got closer to her ear and asked her to go to a quieterplace.

Tom took her hand and started walking upfront to get the pair through the crowd and get to a table, Alessandra was happily walking and dancing while holding his hand, she thought that he was the first man in Berlin that she had met that was able to dance. After walking Tom found an empty table in a corner, it was perfect for them to have a conversation and maybe a kiss he thought.

“So Tom boy, what are you doing in Berlin because I’m almost sure you’re British” she said while taking a sit, she was wearing a leopard print dress showing her beautiful neck line and maybe a little bit more and he was ready to see what she was hiding underneath.

“Well yes, I’m British but you also have an accent, are you French or Italian?” Tom said while trying to sound sexy and getting a little bit closer to her.

“I’m Italian babe, so now that we know this vital information about each other can we kiss” Alessandra said while laughing, they both had a couple drinks and she knew she would never say that to a man if she hadn’t have that many red bull vodkas.

Tom got closer and stamped his lips on hers, the kiss was sloppy and lacked of coordination but it was the perfect kiss to start the night he thought, she had fuller lips and the way her hands were grabbing his neck as if she was holding for her life. When they both heard someone screaming “ALESSANDRA LETS GO”, she broke the kiss and said “Well that’s my call Tom boy” shrinking her shoulders and sliding herself to get out of the seat.

“Can I at least get your number” he said not knowing if this was a sober thought or just a drunk decision. “Follow me on Instagram grandpa, @ alessssa with four s” she screamed while walking away.

He quickly took his phone out of his pocket and he opened Instagram to look her up, he find her profile and took a screenshot of her page, of course he wouldn’t just follow her right off the bat, that was a decision he needed to make in a much better mental state.

Liked by bbianca, giuli_123 and 1,582 others

alessssa I saw Jesus in Berlin in a club I’ve never been

bbbianca: GET OVER THAT SONG BITCH

alessssa: I CAN’T 🙃

marco_o: qt

giuli_123: too hot for Berlin 🥵

alessssa: SO LETS MOVE OUT TO NYC BB

username1: sexiest woman alive

Tom Blyth started following you

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus snow #tbosas #billy the kid #president snow #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth social media au #tom blyth smut #billy the kid 2022 #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tomblythedit #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow x reader

89 notes · View notes

oftenwantedafton · 2 months

Text

So @thoundcarriers posted an adorable fanart of Dave Miller falling asleep inside a McDonald’s here and it just seemed like such a cute idea that I was inspired to write a quick little something for it. No warnings for this, mainly just fluffy Dave appreciation.

dave miller x female reader | 3.7k words

You’ve been working at The Golden Arches for six months now, and okay, maybe it’s not the most illustrious job on the planet, but you know what? You’re in school for something better. For now, it pays the bills. The bump in pay rate for working the night shift isn’t anything to write home about, but you’re not complaining. By the time it’s two am things really slow down customer-wise, and then it’s just cleaning and restocking, and doing some prep for the next day. Much less hectic than the other shifts, and more laid back with fewer employees around, too. It had put a little strain on your sleep cycle in the beginning, but it’s not like you haven’t pulled all nighters before, trying to get a paper done at the last minute, so you’ve adjusted fairly quickly, all things considered.

You’re currently several hours into your shift, standing in the now empty dining room, sweeping up stray paper straw wrappers (not so bad) and wiping up spilled ketchup (also not bad, you’ve seen much worse) when the glass front entrance door swings inward to admit a tall, thin man dressed in a security guard uniform. You don’t spare much of a glance at him, because there’s already another crew member at the register, and you’re now distracted by the wad of chewing gum you’ve just stepped in (filthy jerks, you knew you’d find something nasty eventually) until you hear the man speak. His voice is a silky, low purr, and has a distinctive British accent that instantly catches your attention mid-pull at the offensive substance clinging to the bottom of your shoe.

Now you’re working half heartedly, trying to eavesdrop a little because you don’t hear a voice like that in this small town very often. Your eyes flick from the pink goo you’ve managed to (mostly) peel away with the rag you’d been using to wash the tables down to give the patron’s profile a more thorough look. Definitely over six feet, and most of that length in the legs. A narrow waist most girls would envy. Broad shoulder, a rather long neck with a prominent Adam’s apple, a strong jaw, and atop all of that, a very high arching cheekbone, an equally sharply jutting nose, and a tousled mop of dark brown hair that was somewhere between long and short. Perhaps growing it out. Or he just hasn’t had a chance for a trim.

He digs his wallet out of his back pocket, and you can’t help noting he’s got a surprisingly plump little tush for such a slender man before you force your eyes away. The man turns around, carrying his tray of food laden with a rather bland order of fries and a cheeseburger and a Coke set on top of the paper liner which currently advertises one of the newer limited run menu items, and you find your way back behind the counter, your sneaker still sticky, making a loud squelching sound every time the adhesive material tries to stay latched to the terracotta colored flooring.

Your cheeks are as red as the box of fries on the security guard’s tray. You can feel the heat rising in your face as you head into the back to retrieve a box of ketchup packets. Normally this is a quick task, but you find yourself dawdling once you return to the front, your eyes still pulled hypnotically to the sole customer in the fast food restaurant.

“Drool much?” Your coworker quips. She’s a year older than you, and attends the same college. You don’t consider her a close friend, more of a work acquaintance/ally if you will, but you’ve gotten friendly enough by now and you embarrassment at being caught staring ratchets up a few notches. “Although he does have a nice voice, I’ll give him that. Too skinny, though.”

You frantically try to hush her, the box cutter you’re holding nearly missing its mark and slicing your finger instead. If he’s aware of the conversation, he reveals nothing. He eats quickly, taking even bites of the unwrapped burger alternating with a trio of French fries and then a sip of the cola, everything consumed in precise ratios. He glances at his wristwatch and you think he must be on break, rather than getting out late from work. A fellow third shifter, then.

“Not married. Or at least, no ring. So not guaranteed, guys are such dogs, but maybe he’s one of the rare honest ones. Wallet’s beat to shit. Wonder if that was a gift from the ex wife or the kiddos at one point. Guy’s got some long fingers. Guess those might come in pretty useful. Oh, and his name’s Dave,” your fellow employee continues, thankfully using a lower voice this time.

“How the hell did you get all that out of him ordering a combo meal?” You hiss, tossing a handful of packets into the nearly empty bin.

“‘Cuz I’m observant. And I could see you making eyes at him all the way over here.”

“I was not,” you protest, casting another anxious glance in the dark haired man’s direction. He’s about three quarters of the way finished now, the fry box noticeably emptier, the yellow wrapper cradling maybe two more bites of cheeseburger.

She shrugs and smiles. “Okay, if you say so. Just thought I’d fill you in on the details.”

You shake your head, refocusing on your work. A short time later you hear the familiar sound of the metal chair being dragged across the floor, the ice sloshing around in the bottom of the cup and the squeak of the straw to change the angle and get the last of the soda before the man walks to the rubbish bin, sliding everything into the trash and then setting the tray on top. You watch him exit the building, heading towards a car that looks like it’s from the seventies. Sedan. Big, clunky looking boat of a thing.

“Well, that explains it. He had a ton of cash in that wallet. He’s obviously not investing it in automobiles,” your coworker murmurs.

“Maybe he just likes old cars,” you offer, slicing through the remaining taped edges of the now empty cardboard box to flatten it.

“Yeah, right. You like old cars, you get something sexy. Muscle car, something like that. Ain’t nobody thinking that’s a chick magnet.”

The conversation dies down. No other customers show up. It’s like that, sometimes. You’ve brought your homework with you, but you’re not studying like you’re supposed to. You’re sketching, sitting in the same spot the security guard had previously occupied. You still hadn’t gotten a good look at his face head on, mainly viewing his profile. You’re not sure about all the details, so it’s rough, but you think you’ve got the overall proportions of his build mostly correct.

“I knew it. Somebody’s got a crush,” the other girl chants in a singsong voice behind you, teasing you once again.

You set your pencil down, sighing. “It’s not a crush. I don’t even know him.”

“That’s what makes it fun. He could be anybody. Maybe the security uniform is a disguise. Maybe he’s really a secret agent.”

You raise an eyebrow, dubious of the ideas she’s fabricating. “A secret agent? Really?”

“Well, maybe not. Maybe he’s a creep that still lives in his mother’s basement,” she whispers menacingly.

“Oh God, not that,” you mutter, lifting the pencil again to add a few more defining lines.

Your coworker rests a hand on your shoulder, peering over it. “It’s pretty close. Except for the eyes. Way off. He has like these…I don’t know. They’re intense. Almost but not quite blue. Maybe more like gray. Really pale. And he is about a thousand years behind on sleep. Poor bastard has dark smudges like smeared mascara going on.”

“Hmmm,” you hum thoughtfully, dragging your index finger over the graphite and smearing the areas beneath his eyes.

“Yeah, like that. And…here…” She tugs the pencil free from your hand and flips it, erasing the darkened irises, leaving only a thin ring for each. “Well, I’m not an artist. But something like that. They’re creepy eyes, for sure. Maybe he’s a serial killer.” She squeezes your shoulder excitedly before straightening up.

“You’ve been reading too much Thomas Harris again. Not everyone is Hannibal Lecter.”

“A girl can dream, though, right?”

You shake your head again. “That’s just weird.”

“Hey, I’m not the one obsessing over a guy I saw for a few minutes.”

“I’m not obsessing. Just killing time.” You turn the page and drag a textbook out of your backpack propped up on the seat beside yours. You thumb through the pages while your coworker wanders off, losing interest. No point in dwelling on the security guard any longer.

Chances are, you wouldn’t see him again.

***

Well, you’re wrong about that. You do, in fact, see him again. More than once, in fact.

Dave reappears on occasion, sometimes nearing the end of your shift, other times smack in the middle again. You can’t bring yourself to ever wait on him, constantly finding something to keep you occupied. You want a proper look at him, but you’re just too shy. There’s a fluttery feeling in your stomach that you know makes your coworker’s previous assessment of your feelings far too accurate. You do have a crush on the stranger after all. You’ve only attempted a few more sketches at work, but you’ve done an embarrassing amount of them during your free time elsewhere. Like when you’re home, for example, when you’re supposed to be sleeping. After work, fresh out of the shower, sitting in bed with a proper sketchbook spread on your lap while you try to perfect an image that you’ve never seen completely.

One evening your friendly coworker is not there, and in her place is a guy in his early twenties who mumbles to himself distractedly and doesn’t do much of anything productive. You’ve just gone out back for more supplies, groaning inwardly because the shift is barely half over, when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

It’s him.

You stare sightlessly at the stacked boxes on the pallet, holding your breath, heart thudding. The security guard sounds different tonight. Drowsy. The sound of change colliding with the counter follows. Dropped, maybe? You wait until you think he must surely be seated by now, emerging empty handed, completely forgetting whatever chore you’d been about to perform.

Dave’s chosen a seat in the corner of the dining room. There’s a wall mural of favorite children’s characters from the restaurant’s history just to his left, the garish colors clashing with the more subdued colors of the furniture. The older man isn’t sitting upright in his customary excellent posture; instead, he’s quite slumped. He barely picks at his food and doesn’t even touch the soft drink, and, after a few moments, ceases moving at all.

Frowning, you move to the end of the counter, stepping into the dining room. Was he actually…?

Sound asleep.

You creep a little closer, aware of how absurd this would have looked if there were any onlookers. Your coworker has disappeared again. Closer still. You can hear his breathing, now. Slow and even. Lips slightly parted. There’s a chip between his teeth on the left side. Long eyelashes. Stained skin beneath the closed eyes. It looks like he’s finally had a haircut, although it’s still messy. One forearm is resting on the table. You can see the brass tag bearing his name on his white uniform shirt. His tie isn’t tacked in place, the thin strip of black material slightly wrinkled, the tail end spilling over onto the tray.

You grind to a halt, closer than you’ve ever been. Surely he was on break, due back for work at a certain time. You had to wake him up. It was a duty, really; an obligation to be performed out of respect as a fellow employee of these wee hours.

Yet you’re frozen, temporarily immobile. He looks so peaceful. The poor guy is clearly exhausted.

You hear a crash as your coworker drops something loudly behind you, making you jump, and you no longer have to worry about whether or not to wake the slumbering patron up, because you see his eyes slide open, his seated form immediately straightening.

Those eyes.

No wonder your other coworker hadn’t been able to describe them. You’ve never seen another pair that color. Washed out. Piercing. She’d called them creepy; you find them mesmerizing. Your breath hitches. You still can’t move.

“Um,” you say. “Er,” you add unhelpfully. It appears you’ve been robbed of your ability to speak properly as well.

“How long was I…oh.” His eyes fall to view the watch on his wrist. “Not long, then.”

“Just a couple minutes,” you agree. The power of speech regained. A miracle.

“Not hiding today?” He makes no move to touch the food on his tray, merely trapping you with that intense gaze again.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You do, of course. So he’d been aware of you after all. You’d been noticed.

He smirks, and that fluttery feeling stirs the contents of your stomach. You’d munched on some chicken nuggets earlier. Sweet and sour sauce. You put it on your fries, too. Your favorite condiment.

“I’m on break from my employment,” he says, the British accent sending a little flame further down your belly.

“I figured.”

“Have you had yours yet?”

Was he inviting you to join him? “No.” You hear some more clattering from the back. What the hell was he doing, anyway? “I, um, can go anytime. Now would probably be good since there aren’t any customers. Except you,” you add needlessly. “I just have to grab my bag and tell my coworker I’m going.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn around and make your way to the storage area, gathering your backpack along the way. One of the stacks of boxes has toppled, spilling contents all over the floor. You should probably be volunteering to help clean the mess up, but there’s no way in hell you’re missing the opportunity waiting for you in the dining room.

“I’m going on break. I’ll be back soon,” you add, abandoning the other employee to his fate before he has a chance to respond. Definitely a dick move on your part, but you’re not the one that made the mess in the first place, and, you know. Dave.

You’re surprised to find the security guard standing by the entrance, the soda cup clutched in one hand, everything else already tossed out.

“Wasn’t that hungry,” he murmurs, pushing the door open and holding it for you. You duck outside, looking around for the vintage sedan, but the front parking lot is empty. “On the side,” he explains, leading you past the mulched flower beds and trimmed box hedges. It’s parked quite a considerable distance away, making you frown, wondering why he hadn’t chosen a closer spot.

“Was thinking of eating out here. Taking a nap. Should have just done the latter, but then…” He leaves the thought hanging as he unlocks the passenger side door for you, offering another smirk that makes your insides squirm and ache before he walks around the vehicle to the driver’s side, settling behind the wheel while you sink into the vinyl seat beside him, setting the backpack on the floor between your legs. The interior of the car is roomy. You’ve never experienced this much leg room, or seats this oversized. Older car, maybe, but you kind of like it.

Dave takes a long pull from the straw slotted in the carbonated beverage before slotting it into the cupholder between the seats. The area he’s parked in is darker than the rest of the lot, the nearby street lamp burnt out and in need of replacing. Now it seems obvious why he parked here. Quiet and dark. A good choice for a nap.

You both sit in silence for a couple of minutes until Dave interrupts it. “I don’t suppose you have that book you’re always drawing in with you?”

“What?”

“You know. The notebook. That you sketch in,” he says. There’s a clear hint of amusement in his tone as he reverts to using short, simple sentences.

You flush, fumbling with the zipper of your bag and extracting the notebook but hesitate to hand it over. “This is kind of embarrassing. It’s just a hobby.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There’s, um…there are pictures of…”

“Racy things? X-rated?” He laughs when he sees the mortified expression on your face. It’s a rich sound. Pleasant. “I’m only teasing. You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” He smooths his rumpled tie absently, waiting to see how you’ll respond.

“Oh.” You try a smile and fail. You’re too nervous. Your heart is beating like mad. “Um.” That word again, that meaningless placeholder, you know you use it too often during oral presentations, you’re no good at speaking in front of large audiences; less so in this very small one. “You can look.” You thrust it in his direction, hurriedly, before you change your mind and chicken out.

He accepts the offering with another smirk, lifting the cover and rifling through the first few pages. Not all of the lined pages are covered with drawings, of course; you do have notes from one of your classes scattered in there as well. With every page flicked aside you find yourself growing more and more nervous. He was going to see. And then he’d know. Maybe he already knew. He had to, right?

He reaches the first one you’d done of him, hesitating before continuing his browsing. They’re not the best examples, these ones done rather hastily. Your proper sketchbook at home has better quality, but you’re not volunteering that information just yet. Dave’s reached a blank page, and he shuts the book, handing it back to you. “There’s talent there. Perhaps skewed from the reality because you didn’t have a proper concept of the subject matter, but that’s surely going to change after this evening, isn’t it?” He hums a little sound that turns into a heavy sigh, his head tipping back into the cradle of the headrest. One hand lifts to massage the bridge of his nose.

He’s really tired tonight, you think. If I wasn’t here right now, he’d probably knock out again.

“You shouldn’t let your shyness hold you back from the things you want in life. You’ll likely miss out on a lot of opportunities if you do.”

Your fingers curl around the edge of the notebook on your lap, hugging it so tightly that the opposite end presses into your stomach. “My friend, the girl that’s usually here, she thinks you’re a secret agent. Or that you live in your mother’s basement. She even joked you were possibly a serial killer.”

“She’ll be disappointed to learn that I’m not a secret agent. And I don’t live in my mother’s basement. She passed years ago. I own my own place.”

You notice he doesn’t mention the serial killer remark, but you’re not surprised. It’s the most outlandish of the bunch of theories. “Sorry. She was just teasing me. I didn’t believe any of it.” You pause, worrying your bottom lip. “She noticed you don’t wear a wedding band. Thought maybe you aren’t married. Sorry,” you say again. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“I was married, once. No longer.” He stares at the windshield as he says this, his fingers stroking over the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry. I guess? Maybe that was a good thing? Shit, I don’t know what I’m saying. Just ignore me. I’m not usually this flakey, I promise.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Yeah.”

“I make you nervous.”

“Yes.” You think you must have an imprint of the notebook cover on your fingertips by now, you’re clutching it so tightly.

“What do we do about that?” His face turns back towards you. His eyes are heavy lidded. There’s a lazy sort of drawl to his words, each one separated with a little silent rest; partly from fatigue, you think, and partly from something else. A languid sultriness curves one corner of his mouth, exposing the faintest hint of a dimple, and you find you are torn between gazing at that pleased divot and drowning in those eyes, somehow glittering even in this dim environment.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Really? Not the faintest of ideas?” He reaches out a hand, grabbing the notebook and wrenching it free, sending it tumbling off of your thighs. You’ve barely had a chance to gasp before he swallows that sound, mouth closing over yours, warm and wet and demanding. He leans, that space that had seemed so generous before now full of his long frame, one elbow carelessly jostling the cup that’s been sitting neglected in the center console. You react instinctively, your mind utterly gone, senseless, because you would never in a million years have guessed this would happen tonight. You siphon through that mess of hair and touch the tip of your tongue to his. That fluttery feeling is back, magnified a thousand fold, and that warm ache, too, throbbing intensely. You’ve never done anything this wildly reckless, kissing a virtual stranger. It’s exhilarating. One hand now occupies the space your notebook had, wedged midway, that broad stretch of fingers pressing warmly against your work pants. You can still taste the soda he’d consumed earlier, sweet combined with some stray granule of salt from the fries tucked somewhere on his lips. The scent of the tree air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror had been faint, some earthy, masculine sort of fragrance that is now dwarfed by aftershave and cologne. The older man is drenched in it and you realize you’re going to smell like him after this, your clothes and skin stained by it.

Dave sucks and nips at your bottom lip, breath huffed out in a short chuckle, sounding pleased as you recover from the frenzied kisses you’d exchanged. You’re both panting, the sounds ragged and harsh. You let your fingers drop from his hair to rest along his jaw, memorizing the feel of the bone structure, tucking that information away to revisit later.

“As keen as I am to continue this, it looks like your associate needs your assistance.” He nudges his chin upward and you turn to see your coworker wandering the parking lot, apparently searching for you.

“Oh, come on. Seriously?” You sigh regretfully as the security guard returns to his seat, that pleased little smile still ghosting over his lips.

“Maybe now that we’ve properly introduced ourselves, we can continue this at a later time,” he suggests. “If you’re interested in getting to know each other even better, that is.”

Oh, you’re definitely interested.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #dave miller x you #dave miller x reader

43 notes · View notes