#that's her there next to her unattainable crush

[jewishcissiekj]

The High Republic Phase II was THE time for brunette and black-haired Jedi, thank god (the authors and artists and creators) for Oliviah Zeveron and Gella Nattai

[teapartyprincess4two]

Hi

Can i ask for a johnnie guilbert x reader where the reader is a friend of tara who is a very private person, so she gets know in the channel as "baby" and people start to notice that johnnie gets shy and is always looking somewhere off camera (to her)

A LOTTTT of pinning by johnnie (like so much it hurts)

And maybe at the end he confesses she kisses him and a lil sum-sum 😏

Thank uuuuu 😘

Babygirl- J. Guilbert

pairing: shy!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warning: use of y/n, slight cursing, slow build up, Jake and Tara are dating in this, suggestive content but NO smut, very long

inspiration: request^^, Deaf, Mute, and Blind Baking, Becoming Tara Yummy for a Day

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

—

Most people wish they had the fame you had, they spend their entire life reaching for an unattainable dream that fell in your lap by coincidence. They wish for the fancy cars, the expensive clothes, and especially to be so famous they’re stopped by fans on the street for a picture.

Tara, your best friend, was one of those people. She spent her childhood and teenage years fangirling over pop stars and YouTubers, hoping that one day people would be fangirling over her too. She worked hard to earn the platform she has today, bringing you along with her to the top. But you never asked for any of this.

At first her newfound fame didn’t affect you, you were just a recurring background character in her videos and would sometimes, but very rarely, have a main role in them. Although you tried remaining in the background, the internet is quick to get attached to shy, background characters and before you knew it the fans were begging for more content with you.

So now you and Tara are a well known YouTube duo and you’re featured in almost every one of her videos, most of the time opting to participate from behind the camera. You especially remain behind the scenes when Jake and Johnnie are involved, specifically because you’re never able to hide your crush on Johnnie and would probably die from embarrassment if the fans caught on.

Like today for example, Jake and Johnnie are over at your house filming. They’re filming a video they’ve filmed many times before, they’re turning Tara emo. The three of them are piled onto the couch, discussing topic after topic as Johnnie packs on black eyeshadow on Tara’s eyes.

“Ow, Johnnie. You’re hurting me!” she squeals as Johnnie accidentally pokes her in the eye with the bristles of the brush. You can’t help but giggle from behind the camera, watching as Johnnie becomes flustered. “Sorry! I only ever do my own makeup, okay?” he apologizes, not becoming any more gentle with his motions. Johnnie glances at you quickly, a smile forming on his face because of your laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Y/n? You’re next,” Jake chimes in, following his statement with a boisterous laugh. Your face flushes slightly as you reply with a laugh, “no I’d prefer not to be tortured.” Johnnie laughs at this, sending you a fake pout, “you hate my look that much?”

Your face becomes even more red, if that was even possible. You didn’t mean the comment like that. Tara, whose face is being attacked with makeup, chimes in, “No, Y/n is too babygirl for this.”

“Oh God, you’re making me sound so high maintenance,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at Tara’s comment. “It’s true though!” she exclaims, turning to face you just as Johnnie begins applying eyeliner, causing a black streak to run from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

“Guys, Y/n is probably the most high maintenance out of the four of us. She gets a manicure exactly every two weeks, she gets her hair redyed like once a month, her room is NEVER dirty. She almost never ever has dirty laundry, AND she irons her clothes. Who irons their clothes?” Tara exclaims, flailing her arms in the air dramatically.

“So yes, she’s babygirl,” Tara’s talking to the camera now, completely oblivious to her appearance. You scrunch your name at the nickname, the internet tended to latch onto things like that, “First of all, you look ridiculous right now. And secondly, don’t call me that. I don’t need to be known as ‘babygirl’ for the rest of my life,” you reply, laughing as Johnnie tries to fix his mistake but fails.

Jake, who’s sitting on the couch next to Johnnie, straightens up and leans forward to look at Tara. He immediately laughs at the sight, the black eyeliner smudged all over her face. “You’re just mad that it has a nice ring to it,” Tara retorts, choosing to ignore the mess Johnnie made. You scoff, glad that the camera isn’t on you to catch how your eyes train on Johnnie.

“Okay, but doesn’t it sound cute?” Tara proposes the question to the boys, waiting expectantly for them to answer. Jake was always quick to agree with her, it was a trait she trained him to have over the years of their relationship, “yeah, it’s pretty cute.” Tara nods her head in triumph, turning to Johnnie for his response.

Johnnie doesn’t know what to say, he agrees that the nickname is cute, but he’s afraid he’ll say too much and expose his crush for you. “Johnnie?” Tara says, widening her eyes as she awaits his response.

“What was the nickname again?” Johnnie asks, trying to act casual. But if the cameras zoomed in they’d easily catch how his hands tremble as he fixes Tara’s eyeliner. “Babygirl?” he reiterates, attempting to sound confused and oblivious. Tara nods her head, causing Johnnie to mess up once again, but he’s too busy trying to keep his composure to care.

Coming from him the nickname doesn’t sound so bad, it actually makes you want to take back everything you just said. “Babygirl is cute,” he murmurs, sending you a small glance before quickly turning back towards Tara. You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and the smile that won’t go away no matter how hard you try.

“Enough with the babygirl talk,” you groan, but you really loved hearing him say it.

—

From that moment on, you were known as babygirl within the fandom. You couldn’t escape the nickname no matter how hard you tried, and the fans loved teasing you about it. Whether it be through edits, Instagram comments, or tweets; the fans were always calling you the nickname.

Johnnie, Jake and Tara are currently filming yet another video, despite your protests. The three of them are standing behind the kitchen counter, with either tape on their mouths, earmuffs on, or blindfolded. They were trying to bake a cake, something they struggled to do even without the inhibiting factors, so all they were really doing was making a big mess.

They understand your hesitance with being on camera, so they never force you to make any special appearances, but you still loved to watch. You sit behind the counter, just out of view of the camera, watching in amusement as the three interact.

Johnnie keeps getting distracted by you, fumbling and stuttering his way through the intro. You watch as Johnnie struggles to find the supplies needed for the video, searching through every cabinet in the kitchen. “Every time Johnnie says he’s ready, he’s never ready,” Jake comments, adjusting the black beanie on his head. “Where the fuck did I put it? No, Jake where did you put it?” Johnnie replies, scavenging for the baking supplies.

“They’re in the pantry,” you comment, walking over to Johnnie briefly and guiding him towards the pantry. Johnnie smiles at you, grateful that there’s at least one sane person here to help him. The interaction was caught on camera, but you were too distracted to realize.

“Thanks babygirl,” Tara exclaims, bopping her head to the music blasting through her headphones. You roll your eyes, helping Johnnie take everything out of the grocery bags and sprawling them out onto the counter. Once everything is in order, Johnnie’s mouth is quickly covered with a sticker, but he’s happy he isn’t blindfolded because he can keep sneaking glances at you.

The entire situation was chaotic, none of them had any clue how to communicate properly and they had less knowledge on how to bake a cake. Jake’s arms were stretched forward as he tried finding his way through the kitchen, Tara’s loud singing making it hard for them to concentrate on one task alone.

Tara, who wore the headphones, was more focused on singing than the cake. You watch them intently, unable to stop yourself from laughing, “you need to whisk the cake!” Tara, who can’t hear a single thing you’re saying, repeats your statement causing you to burst into laughter.

Johnnie pulls out a plastic butter knife, deeming it appropriate for the task. “Get the beater!” Tara yells, following it by belting out song lyrics. Johnnie has no idea what Tara is talking about, so he sends you a pleading look. If there’s anyone here who’s going to help him finish this cake, it’s you.

“The whisk, get the whisk!” you exclaim, trying to talk over Tara’s singing as best as possible.

“What’s going on?!” Jake asks, one of his flailing arms slapping both Johnnie and Tara. Johnnie’s laughs are muffled by the sticker as he holds the whisk out for Jake, guiding him to the bowl.

“Babygirl?!” Tara is being so loud, her voice a good three octaves higher than normal. “Stop yelling!” you exclaim, but she ignores you and changes the song, continuing to belt out the lyrics.

“Y/n, we need your help,” Jake comments, stirring the bowl so aggressively that it was twirling. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he continues, lifting the whisk up and blindly taking a lick.

“JAKE DON’T LICK IT!” Tara yells.

Johnnie’s laughter and shocked scream are muffled, his face scrunched up as he laughs uncontrollably, and you can’t look away. You wish you weren’t so shy, so that way you’d be able to join them in this fun activity without feeling anxious.

“This cake is going to be so bad,” you chuckle, catching Johnnie’s attention. His eyes linger on you for a little too long, a moment the fans were definitely going to clip and edit.

“What did you say?! Did you say my singing is bad?!” Tara is still yelling, following each and every statement with loud singing.

Many dirty dishes and a messy kitchen later, the cake is finally done. The oven rings throughout the kitchen, and Jake and Tara send Johnnie to fish the hot pan out. The cake didn’t look too bad, but considering you watched them make it, you weren’t too excited to actually try it.

“You have to wait until it cools to frost it!” Tara exclaims, the headphones causing her volume to be more than pleasant. Johnnie can’t respond because of the sticker, and he doesn’t want to wait for it to cool, so he continues haphazardly spreading the icing over the camera. Jake, on the other hand, is in his own world.

“That actually looks disgusting. It’s raw,” you gasp, watching as Johnnie lifts the spatula to reveal an uncooked, watery mess. “It’s undercooked!” Tara yells, her inability to hear you causing her to repeat everything you say in different words.

Johnnie’s muffled laughter is infectious, earning a string of laughter from you. “Let’s just eat it,” Jake suggests, facing the complete opposite direction of the group. The beanie on his head inhibits him from seeing the state of the cake, but even if he could see it, he would probably still ask for a bite.

“Wait let me help,” you get up from your seat and walk behind the countertop, immediately searching for something to serve the cake in. “This is gonna have to do it,” you hand Johnnie three plastic cups. He scoops up the raw batter, the liquid cake jiggling in the cup and running down the sides, immediately coating his fingers in frosting and batter.

“We’re gonna get salmonella,” Tara is staring at the goopy mess in shock, how had they managed to mess up such a simple recipe?

“I wanna see… I think we should take this off,” Jake yanks his beanie off, a fit of laughter attacking him as soon as he sees the state of the cake. Tara was subconsciously poking at it, creating a big hole in the center. Johnnie’s hands were full of chocolate frosting, and he held them up in exasperation as he waited for someone to remove the sticker from his mouth.

“Here lemme help you,” you murmur, gentle hands removing the sticker. Your touch lingers a little too long, but he doesn’t complain. If he had it his way, you’d have your arms around his neck and his lips would be on yours.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he whispers in return, loving how easily the nickname riled you up. You hated how much you loved hearing him say it.

“This is actually not that bad!” Tara’s boisterous voice breaks you two from the intimate moment, forcing you to reenter reality. “Try it,” Jake suggests, going back for a second scoop.

Johnnie is hesitant, but he grabs the cup and puts a spoonful of the raw cake batter in his mouth. His face contorts in disgust, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Here let me try,” you take the cup from him, using his spoon to take your own bite.

As soon as the cake hits your tongue, you’re gagging. “Oh wow this is horrible,” you say, fighting the urge to throw up. They’re all laughing at your reaction, Jake pulling a long hair from his mouth in the process. “I love this hair, adds flavor.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up,” the hair Jake held between his fingers was only making the situation worse for you.

“See, she’s so babygirl,” Tara laughs, joking about the situation even if she found it equally as gross.

—

It seemed like your friends were always filming because every time the four of you hung out there always seemed to be a camera lurking not too far. Like today for example, Tara gathered everyone for a casual hangout, but once you arrived she explained that everyone was going to be living like her for the day. At first, you declined her invitation, making a lame excuse about not feeling good. But she begged and begged for you to be in the video, and before you knew it you were an integral part of it.

“Okay, since you guys are becoming me for the day, it’s only fitting that you dress the part. So, put on these track suits,” Tara says as she hands you, Jake, and Johnnie each a pink track suit. You’re trying to hide from the camera as much as possible, but Tara keeps pulling you back in every time you almost wander away.

The three of you shimmy into the outfits, immediately feeling the Tara Yummy essence wash over you.

“This is sexy,” Jake comments, admiring his figure as the sweatpants hang loosely from his hips. “I’m serving cunt,” Johnnie says, joining Jake in admiring himself. Their tattoos peeked through, contrasting the pink outfits entirely.

You emerge from the hallway seconds later, the track suit providing you with a newfound confidence, “I feel so stupid, but I also kinda feel like that bitch.” You stand still, allowing the camera to pan to you before hitting a dramatic pose. You turn around to show the camera the backside of the suit, the word babygirl written in curly white letters across your ass. “Slay, babygirl, slay,” Tara chimes in, strutting over to you and hitting the same pose.

“Let’s please not start with the babygirl jokes,” you groan jokingly, adjusting the sweatpants that kept riding up, you were starting to get a wedge. But you knew you weren’t going to escape the babygirl comments today, especially not with it written across your backside. It was like a label that you were forced to wear for the rest of the day, and the fans would surely seize the opportunity and run with it. To top it all off, the four of you were so well color coordinated that you looked like a 90’s girl group, ready to perform on stage at any moment.

“This is fun, but I still don’t understand why I’m being forced to do this,” you say, staring at Tara blankly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replies cheerily, offering you a big smile and booping your nose. It was hard to stay mad at her. She walks away, joining Jake as they engage in conversation.

“And you’re babygirl,” Johnnie teases, coming up from behind you unexpectedly, immediately causing a blush to form on your face. He loved watching you get flustered over the nickname. He laughs at your reactions, relishing every bit of it.

“Alright, first things first, time to eat. Mama’s hungry,” Tara says, ignoring yours and Johnnie’s interaction before facing the camera and leading everyone to the car. Jake and Tara are far ahead, leaving you and Johnnie to trail behind.

“It’s gonna be leaves,” Johnnie whispers to you, earning a laugh in response. He loved making you laugh. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet we end up at Health Nut?” you ask, settling the bet with a firm handshake between you and Johnnie. His hand holds a firm grip on yours, almost like he’s hesitant to let go as he says goofily, “$2, take it or leave it.”

As predicted, the four of you end up at Tara’s favorite restaurant; Health Nut. It’s no one else’s restaurant of choice, but you’re living as Tara for the day so it doesn’t matter what the rest of you want. You’ve been here with Tara enough to be familiar with the menu, so you order a simple salad and drink before moving to the side and allowing Johnnie to order. Once he’s finished ordering, he pays for your meals before letting Jake and Tara order.

Johnnie is playing it up for the cameras, trying to embarrass himself with his actions before the pink track suit does it for him. He’s sitting on a toddler chair and you stand next to him, choosing him as your comfort zone.

Because you always opted to remain behind the scenes, most of the viewers weren’t completely aware of yours and Johnnie’s dynamic. You two were always clinging to each other in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations, making quiet jokes to make the other laugh. You both also had a huge crush on each other, which further served as a gravitational pull.

“Order for… babygirl?” the employee calls out, a hint of confusion in their voice as they read the name on the order. This immediately causes you to laugh out loud. “You did not do that,” you whisper shout at Johnnie, who held his hands up in feigned defense as he tries not to burst into laughter. You awkwardly grab the food, both of youwalking over to Tara and Jake’s table.

“Did they just call you babygirl?” Tara asks as soon as you’re sitting down. “Yes dude, fucking Johnnie told them that was my name,” you laugh, hiding your red face in your hands. They call out Tara’s name and she dismisses herself briefly to pick up the food.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims from the restaurant’s front door, bag and drink in hand as she pushes the door open and walks outside. “Oh, I guess Tara Yummy eats in the car,” Jake says sarcastically, the three of you following Tara to the car.

Once you’re in the car, you and Johnnie sit in the backseat while Jake and Tara occupy the front. “I wanted to eat in there, but you guys are so embarrassing,” Tara says, handing Jake his food.

She doesn’t give any of you enough time to respond, “you guys are already pretty embarrassing, but the pink track suits make us all look genuinely crazy.” She’s obnoxiously shaking her salad from the front seat, causing the entire car to rock.

“Damn, don’t gotta put your whole pussy into it,” Jake laughs, earning a sly remark from Tara. Soon, they’re lost in a conversation of their own, leaving you and Johnnie to talk quietly in the back seat.

“Why do you keep pushing this ‘babygirl agenda,’ sir?” You ask, both in true curiosity and to make light of the nickname. He blushes, mindlessly picking at the salad in front of him.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy now,” you tease, piling up a good bite on your fork. He smiles at you awkwardly, preparing to admit something embarrassing.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he admits with a shrug, taking a big bite of his food. Your eyes blow open in shock, this whole time you thought he was teasing you, but now it turns out he thinks it’s a cute nickname? “Don’t make fun of me,” Johnnie pleads in defense through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting that,” you respond, trying not to be too loud. You couldn’t help it though, your giggles were soon filling the backseat. There was something about the confession that gave you hope that maybe you and Johnnie could be more than just friends. But you don’t want to get your hopes up, ir could easily all be for the video. You’re about to say something crazy and bold, but you’re cut off by Tara.

“Are you two done flirting? Cause I’m in the mood for coffee.” Leave it to her to ruin a sweet moment.

—

The day is finally over and the four of you are now wearing pajamas, reminiscing on the day’s events. Tara and Jake leave once the video is over, leaving you and Johnnie to lay on the large couch. The room is silent, but it’s not awkward, you’re both just catching up and joking.

“I was serious earlier, by the way,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling above. “Yeah?” you say in a teasing tone, rolling over on your side so you’re facing him.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah. If I’m being honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, I mean the fans definitely have.” You mindlessly play with the strings of your robe, subconsciously scooting closer to him.

“So that’s why you keep calling me babygirl?”

“Mmm yeah, mostly. I think it sounds cute,” he smiles down at you, your figure just slightly further down the couch. You feel a surge of confidence wash over you, something you don’t usually feel as a shy person, and straddle his lap.

He looks at you in shock, both arms limp at his sides. “Say it,” you whisper, moving your face dangerously closer to his. You use your hands to grab his, placing them on your waist. He feels excited, nervous, and shocked all at the same time, was this really happening?

You grind your hips down onto him, hoping to elicit a response from him. “Babygirl,” he whimpers, the sudden friction sending a shiver up his spine that has his hips bucking. You hum in response, finally inching close enough to connect your lips to his.

You’re in a heated make out session, completely obvious to the world around you. Johnnie’s hands are roaming your body, your hips are grinding down onto him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair. You kiss from his lips down to his neck, sucking and biting the delicious skin until you leave a hickey.

The situation is about to escalate, but Jake and Tara interrupt before it can. They saunter in loudly, both you and Johnnie jumping off of each other in shock.

“About damn time!” Jake says, applauding you both for finally make a move on each other. “Get it babygirl!” Tara laughs, joining Jake in his obnoxious round of applause.

“So annoying,” you groan, throwing a pillow at them and shooing them out. Once they’re out of the room, you and Johnnie share a sheepish look.

“You’re never escaping that nickname,” he chuckles, silently pulling you back on top of him. “That’s okay. If you’re the one saying it, I don’t mind,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Okay, babygirl.”

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Such a good request, I LUV being challenged with these specific requests!!! Hope I did it justice bby, I rewrote this like 5 times & had a different storyline each time. Also, I mentioned the famous hickey (💀💀) and I changed it from “baby” to “babygirl” because he mentioned that he’s “so babygirl” on Trisha’s podcast.

anyways, enjoy hunny bunches. Luv uuuuu

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?” 

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you.  She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

~

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

[leighbaye]

— TRANCE

written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , nate jacobs 𝔁 f! reader | wc 2500

summary. nate realizes he is the luckiest guy ever. fuck maddy, fuck cassie, he was plotting for you. you’re the most perfect girl that he could’ve ever asked for.

labels. y/n is used , she her pronouns used. nate fantasizes about you innocently and quite naughty, hyper feminine reader, pet names used, mentions of obsession, praise, & stalking, VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. i really recommend reading @annwrites multi - part fic ❝ exactly what he needs ,❞ paired with, yours truly, nate jacobs. as it was inspired by the masterpiece.

nate is in bed, staring blankly at the glow of his phone. it was some mindless scroll through his socials, yet it all felt dull. nothing grabbed his attention the way it used to. not the countless selfies of maddy’s perfectly angled poses, or cassie’s desperate attempts to catch his eye with the glossy smiles she plastered all over the screen.

he let out a breath, locking his phone and placing it face down on the bedside table. his hand trailed absentmindedly toward the blanket, pulling it up a bit to tuck you in, careful not to disturb you.

you were fast asleep beside him, your soft breaths falling into a steady rhythm. nate’s gaze lingered on you longer than it probably should’ve, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face. fuck, you were perfect. it was almost criminal how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even now. no makeup, no posing, no pretending. just you.

he leaned his head back into the pillow, the warmth of your presence next to him soothing yet electrifying at the same time. it wasn’t like when he was with maddy or cassie. there wasn’t that constant tension, that need to control, to manipulate. well, maybe a little. but with you, it felt… different. not better, but more intoxicating.

❝ fuck ,❞ nate muttered under his breath, staring up at the ceiling, the faint glow from the moon seeping through the curtains.

he didn’t know how he’d gotten this lucky. not that it was entirely luck. it took planning, scheming. nate wasn’t a man who left things to chance. no, if he wanted something, he took it. he figured out how to make it his, even if it meant crushing a few people along the way.

and you? you were the one thing he hadn’t let slip through his fingers.

the day nate first really noticed you, like really noticed you, something shifted in him. it wasn’t like with cassie, where she was a fleeting obsession, someone he could toy with to get under maddy’s skin. no, you were something else. something more.

it had been a regular day, or at least it was supposed to be. cassie had brushed past him in the hall, giving him a sad, hopeful glance after their situationship had gone up in flames. she didn’t matter anymore, not really. nate had already set his sights elsewhere.

and then, there you were.

you didn’t even notice him at first, just standing there with a few friends, laughing at something dumb, probably something insignificant, but to nate, it was like the world had tilted. your hair caught the light just right, that glossy sheen making him want to reach out, run his fingers through it. and your face —fuck, your face was everything. perfect lips, perfect eyes, the kind of face nate could stare at for hours and never get bored. you had that thing about you, that girl - next - door vibe mixed with something else, something unattainable.

you weren’t loud, weren’t trying to get attention like maddy or cassie always did. you didn’t need to. you had a natural confidence, something soft but undeniable. your style was all femme, skirts and cute tops, nails always done, everything just ... neat. clean. controlled. nate liked that. he loved that.

it was like the universe had handed him exactly what he’d been looking for.

but getting you? that was going to take work. although not that he ever had any difficulty getting what he desired.

nate spent weeks figuring you out. watching. waiting. it wasn’t stalking, not really, he told himself. he was just making sure he knew everything he needed to. where you liked to hang out, who your friends were, what kind of guys caught your eye. every detail mattered.

he’d show up where you’d be, casually at first, nothing too obvious. he made sure to talk to the right people, make himself seem approachable, even charming, though that part came naturally. girls liked nate. it wasn’t hard to use that to his advantage.

he noticed how your eyes would flick toward him sometimes, just a quick glance before you looked away, trying not to let it linger. it was subtle, but nate knew what it meant. you were interested. maybe you didn’t realize it yet, but you were. and he was going to make sure you realized it soon enough.

a few weeks in, he made his move. a simple conversation, nothing too forward. just enough to get you thinking. he complimented your shoes, your nails, shit like that. small things, things other guys wouldn’t notice but nate did. he saw everything about you.

he could tell you liked the attention. your smile was shy, a little flustered even, and that’s how he knew he had you. it was only a matter of time now.

the days passed, and nate played his cards perfectly. you’d started to trust him, let your guard down around him. you laughed at his jokes, blushed when he teased you, and nate reveled in it. every little thing you did only made him want you more.

he liked how soft you were. how feminine. it wasn’t just your looks, though those were enough to drive him crazy on their own. it was the way you carried yourself, the way you made him feel needed, wanted, like he was the only guy who could make you happy.

he’d make sure you never wanted anyone else.

nate was careful, though. he didn’t rush things. he let the tension build, let you get used to the idea of him being around. he didn’t want to scare you off, not like he’d done with cassie. this time, it had to be perfect.

and it worked.

the night he finally confessed, nate couldn’t hold back anymore. it had been driving him insane, keeping it all bottled up, the way he felt about you. it wasn’t just lust, though that was a big part of it. it was deeper than that, more intense. he wanted you in every way, needed you.

he cornered you after a party, pulling you aside when no one was looking. your eyes widened in surprise, but there was a hint of excitement there too. nate could see it.

❝ i can’t keep pretending, y/n, ❞ he started, his voice low, controlled. ❝ i’ve been thinking about you, about us. for weeks. ❞

you blinked, a soft flush spreading across your cheeks. ❝ nate ... ❞

❝ no, let me finish, ❞ he interrupted, stepping closer, his body just inches from yours. ❝ you’re perfect. everything about you. i can’t stop thinking about you, wanting you. ❞ his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and he smirked when you shivered at his touch. ❝ you deserve someone who sees that. who sees you. ❞

you stared up at him, your breathing shallow, and nate knew he had you right where he wanted.

❝ i hope you understand what i am getting at, i’m that guy, y/n, ❞ he murmured, leaning in, his lips just barely brushing your ear. ❝ i’m the guy who’s going to make sure you’re happy. no one else. ❞

your eyes sparkled, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

❝ nate... i didn’t know you felt that way, ❞ you whispered, biting your lip. ❝ i always thought... ❞

❝ what? ❞ he asked, his voice dripping with possessiveness. ❝ you thought you weren’t good enough? ❞ he let out a dark chuckle, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. ❝ you’re more than good enough. you’re mine. ❞

you stared at him, wide-eyed, but then you smiled —this soft, sweet smile that made his chest tighten.

❝ i didn’t think i’d be good enough for you, ❞ you admitted softly, looking down for a moment.

nate’s grip tightened around your waist, his hand firm as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your temple. ❝ fuck that, y/n, ❞ he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of desire and triumph. ❝ you’re everything i’ve ever wanted. ❞

your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him, pressing your face into his chest, and nate let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

he buried his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in, his hands gripping your waist as he smirked against your skin. you were his now. completely his.

and nate wasn’t letting you go. not ever.

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

[munson-blurbs]

BUUUG oh my god i also watched wicked last weekend and i literally have not moved on 😭 i haven’t listened to ANYTHING else aside from the soundtrack and it got me thinking.............theater girlie reader performing i’m not that girl and absolutely nailing the song because she’s actually pining over eddie 🥲 (i also relate to the song because jonathan bailey isn’t in love with me lmao)

Did somebody say...Wicked and pining? I'm in.

Warnings: idiots in love, dual POV, light angst, mutual pining, happily ever after, I don't know what year this takes place in because Wicked opened in 2003 but there's nothing indicating modern!Eddie

WC: 3.5k

Divider credit to @strangergraphics

It wasn’t love at first sight for Eddie. It was love at first sound. 

He was cleaning up after Hellfire on a rainy Friday afternoon, determined to race home and check the sofa cushions for change so he could order a pizza. If all else failed, he could always dip into his primary income source, kept locked tight in his lunchbox. 

Hellfire Club continued to be the best part of his week, as it had been since he’d joined six years ago as a gawky freshman, but there was something comforting about the stillness after everyone else had left. Sometimes Eddie didn’t get that privilege—especially when he was tasked with giving Henderson a ride home. The kid wouldn’t shut up if his life depended on it. But today, he reveled in the peace while he placed the game pieces back in their box. 

He barely registered the small commotion in the adjoining auditorium as you took the stage and began your vocal warmups. You couldn’t take any chances of straining your voice; not when your years of hard work and dedication to the Drama Club finally paid off. 

You trilled to the top of your register before taking it back down, repeating it over and over until you felt ready to practice. Ready to become Elphaba Thropp. 

You were wholly unaware that Eddie Munson stood just on the other side of the wall, whistling a Black Sabbath song under his breath. Maybe that was good, considering your ridiculous crush on him. Like he’d ever notice you—a theatre nerd who never stepped out of line. You certainly weren’t one of the cheerleaders he constantly tried to impress. 

There was no mistaking the way he blushed and stammered around Chrissy Cunningham, playing with a few strands of his curls as he shamelessly flirted with her. You could deny that the sight of it all turned your stomach, but everyone and their mother would know it was a lie. 

A relationship—even a friendship—between you and Eddie would never manifest naturally. You didn’t have many classes together, and it wasn’t like he showed up to them anyway. Rumor had it that he and Chrissy only started talking because she bought weed from him, but the idea of meeting up with him in the woods, alone, overwhelmed you. And Eddie Munson definitely didn’t frequent the school plays. 

You thought about this now, the way you would never measure up to the girls he wanted to be with. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply and let the emotions course through you. 

Frustration—towards yourself for harboring a crush on someone so unattainable. 

Envy—of Chrissy Cunningham, who happened to be playing Galinda, and the other cheerleaders who didn’t even have to try to get his attention. 

Dejection—because though Eddie had never outright rejected you, each day that you continued slipping under his radar twisted your heart more. 

You took it all and put it into the song. 

Hands touch, eyes meet Sudden silence, sudden heat Hearts leap in a giddy whirl He could be that boy But I’m not that girl 

Eddie was deciding whether to splurge for the meat-lovers pizza or stick with just pepperoni when he heard the voice of an angel coming from next door. 

Don’t dream too far Don’t lose sight of who you are Don’t remember that rush of joy He could be that boy I’m not that girl

His ears pricked up. Who was that? He’d been at this school for six years, and he thought he knew everybody. 

He rushed over to the adjacent wall, body moving faster than his brain. One sneakered foot caught on the leg of his Dungeon Master throne, sending him tumbling to the ground. In a moment of desperation, Eddie grabbed for the closest object in his vicinity—a mannequin, clad in a Captain Hook costume from last semester’s production of Peter Pan. It came tumbling down along with him, both hitting the ground with an unmistakable thump. 

The voice stopped singing mid-verse. 

“Shit,” Eddie grumbled, picking himself up and brushing the dust off of his ripped jeans. He waited for a moment, then another, in hopes that the song would resume. 

But there was only silence. Once cherished, but now a punishment for his own clumsiness. 

I should go over and apologize. He dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came. Except…what if it was just a coincidence? What if she didn’t hear any of that? I’ll look like a total moron. 

Instead, Eddie continued cleaning up, hoping the pink flush staining his cheeks would fade by the time he left school. 

Every so often we long to steal  To the land of—

A crash cut you off, your gaze flicking from the pretend audience to the stage door. Who was sticking around school on a Friday afternoon?

I should make sure they’re okay. 

You started towards the door, stopping in your tracks when a sinking thought washed over you. What if the person had made noise purposely so I’d stop singing? What if I check on them and they tell me that I suck? I’ll look pathetic. 

Fighting back a cringe at the notion of being humiliated, you scooped up your backpack and hurried out of the auditorium. 

Practice would have to wait until Monday. 

Eddie tried to hide his newfound fascination with the mystery girl who sang her way into his heart. Week after week, he insisted on cleaning up after Hellfire alone on the off chance he’d hear her rehearsing. 

But after that first time, there was nothing. Not a single note. Sure, other people used the auditorium to practice, but none of them were her. 

It was a rainy Friday when she finally returned. The weather—torrential storms all day—meant that Dustin would not be walking home. He begged Eddie to drive him, insisting that if his mom picked him up, she would thoroughly humiliate him. 

Having met Claudia Henderson on multiple occasions, Eddie could attest to that statement’s truthfulness. 

And while having Dustin around to clean up after Hellfire wasn’t a bad thing, he filled the room with incessant chatter and expected Eddie to respond. 

Eddie, however, was in a world of his own, losing himself in the somber lyrics and trying to tune out whatever the freshman was blathering on about. 

Every so often we long to steal  To the land of what-might-have-been 

“And then her dad took away her computer! All because she helped me change one measly grade!”

But that doesn't soften the ache we feel  When reality sets back in

“I mean, it’s completely unfair. Her siblings are batshit crazy and he can’t be bothered to care. But Suzie lies, probably for the first time in her life—”

“Henderson, can you just shut up for two seconds?!” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth, his nostrils flaring. His gaze softened slightly when he saw the shock and hurt on his friend’s face. “Sorry, man, I’m just…”

“Christ,” Dustin scoffed, regaining his composure. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Eddie cinched the dice drawstring bag closed, not making eye contact with Dustin. “Nothing. Just tired. Long week,” he added lamely. 

Blithe smile, lithe limb  She who's winsome, she wins him  Gold hair with a gentle curl  That's the girl he chose  And Heaven knows  I'm not that girl

Dustin noticed the way a smile tugged at the corners of Eddie’s scowl. A knowing grin spread across his face. 

“Why, Mr. Eddie. Look at you,” he said, donning a posh accent. “You’re lovesick.”

“W-What?” Eddie sputtered. 

Dustin rolled his eyes. “It’s a play on a quote from Wicked.” When the older boy kept his nose wrinkled in confusion, he continued with a huff. “Wicked. That’s the show the Drama Club is doing. That’s where the song is from.”

“Oh.” Eddie shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a, uh, a nice song.”

He fidgeted with his rings, spinning the skull around his finger until perspiration built up beneath the band. 

“Maybe we should see the show.” Dustin hoisted himself up onto the table, letting his legs dangle. “Y’know, actually watch your lady love on stage rather than secretly creep on her.”

“First of all,” Eddie pointed a finger at him, “she is not my ‘lady love.’ I don’t even know who she is. For all I know, it’s Jason Carver with a killer falsetto.”

The notion, while ridiculous, was the only way he could stifle the butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the term ‘lady love.’

“A possibility. Or,” Dustin countered, “she’s the love of your life, waiting just beyond this pesky wall for you to sweep her off of her talented feet.”

To his credit, Eddie considered the idea for a full second before shaking his head. Metalhead, music snob Eddie Munson watching the school musical? If anyone saw him there, he’d never live it down. 

Dustin, however, was relentless. The boy had a litany of tricks up his Weird Al shirtsleeve. 

“Well, I’m gonna go. My friend Robin is in the band. I wonder who else will be there?” He tapped his finger against his chin, feigning ponderance. “Oh, that’s right! Steve Harrington. You remember Steve, right? Great hair, great with the ladies…maybe he’ll even talk to your ‘friend.’”

Eddie’s blood boiled in his veins. Harrington showing up and being your knight in shining armor, parading around town with you on his arm—

“Fine. I’ll go.” Eddie grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “But you keep that jockstrap with a toupee away from her, got it?”

“Alright, alright. Jeez.” Dustin put his hands up in surrender. “No need to be so testy, Nessarose.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what that meant, but he had a feeling he was about to find out. 

Opening night. 

You didn’t allow yourself to peek out behind the stage curtain for fear of someone seeing you in your green makeup, but if the loud chatter emanating from the audience was any indication, it seemed to be a full house. 

Fred Benson came backstage a few moments later, wearing his stage manager headset and a huge grin. “We’re sold out!” He waited for the cheering from your fellow cast-mates to die down before announcing: “Places in five.”

Five minutes. Five measly minutes until you became Elphaba Thropp, the Wicked Witch of the West. 

And if that wasn’t enough to send nerves spiraling through you, the next sentence you overheard certainly did:

“Eddie Munson is here?!”

No. No, no, no.

“Are you serious? I thought he only listened to shit that makes your ears bleed.”

Whatever stage fright you’d already been battling paled in comparison to what you currently felt. Eddie Munson, the man who unknowingly served as your muse for unrequited love, was sitting in the audience.

When Chrissy Cunningham laughed behind you, it all became clear. He was here for her. He wanted to watch her flit across the stage, tossing her blonde hair and waving a magic wand. 

Well, at least you’d barely have to act when Galinda got the man Elphaba pined after.

Eddie sat straight up in his seat when the lights dimmed, clutching the bouquet of roses close to his lap. He didn’t want to risk putting them on the floor and stepping on them, so he did his best to hold them in place without constantly crinkling the cellophane.

They weren’t anything special–he’d gotten them from the refrigerated display case at Bradley’s Big Buy–but he hoped they were enough.

Chrissy came onstage first, wearing a poofy baby blue ball gown and a sparkling tiara. Eddie’s stomach flipped. Was Chrissy the girl he’d heard singing? No, she couldn’t have been. Her voice sounded nothing like the mystery girl. Chrissy’s voice was light and airy, like a princess. The other voice had a slight heaviness to it, like it held some pain.

So…not Chrissy. Good to know, but that still left him with more questions than answers.

He clapped when the audience clapped, pretending to focus on the plot while actually scouring the stage for clues. Maybe she was one of the chorus members; that would definitely make it more difficult to pick her out…

Resignedly, he sat back, summoning every ounce of music training he’d acquired over the years to pick out the sound of her voice among the crowd. 

Nothing. 

“This is bull—” he started to grumble to Dustin, but then his gaze fell upon someone…green. Even covered head-to-toe in pure stage makeup, her beauty shone through. 

Eddie just sat there, fully entranced. He didn’t want to allow himself to believe that this was the girl—because if she wasn’t the one he’d been obsessing over, then he was totally screwed. 

Please, he silently prayed, please let this be her. 

Please, you silently prayed, don’t let Eddie be here. 

Though you willed yourself to keep your eyes on that dark spot in the back of the auditorium, you couldn’t help but scan the audience for him. 

And there he was, sitting between Steve Harrington and one of the freshmen who followed him around the school like a little sheep. He had a dopey grin on his face and roses in his lap. 

Roses, you realized, that he’d present to Chrissy as he held her and congratulated her on an incredible performance—

Focus. You shedded your own skin at the stage door and took on Elphaba’s green hue, and you needed to act like her, not you. And her first song was upbeat and hopeful. Heartbrokenness would have to wait. 

She sang. After what seemed like endless dialogue between her and the teacher—Ms. Horrible? He couldn’t remember, nor did he particularly care—she sang. 

And from that first note, Eddie knew. 

It’s her. 

He almost didn’t want to believe it. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it, because how could someone be so beautiful and talented? No, this must be someone who sounded similar, but the girl who sang that melancholy song would be someone else. Someone he didn’t feel wholly inadequate when he approached her. 

“Shh!” Someone hissed behind him. Only then did he realize that he was flexing his hand around the rose stems, the cellophane crackling under his tight grasp. 

Eddie muttered an apology, never taking his eyes off of the stage. God, she was breathtaking. He could practically hear her calling his name:

Eddie…Eddie…

“Eddie!” Steve’s annoyed voice snapped Eddie out of his stupor. “Move your foot, man!”

Eddie looked down to see that he was sitting at the edge of his seat, legs spread far enough to nudge Steve’s sneaker with his own. He quickly composed himself, hoping the dark auditorium masked his pink cheeks. 

“What the hell is his deal?” Steve whispered to Dustin. 

The younger boy shrugged. “Pretty sure he’s in love with the girl who plays the witch. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Eddie barely heard the exchange, too wrapped up in the way the notes seem to float from Elphaba’s lips, ethereal in nature. Normally when he listened to showtunes—which wasn’t very often, but his uncle was partial to his Annie Get Your Gun record—he would pass the time thinking about how he could rearrange the song to fit a more metal vibe. 

But for the first time in a long time, metal is the last thing on his mind. He wants to know more of Elphaba’s story, how she went from a shy college student to one of the most well-known villains in cinematic history. The rest of the world had gone quiet, like a background noise he easily ignored. 

The few scenes without Elphaba were torturous enough, but Eddie soon realized that there was something even worse than that. Someone, actually. 

Fiyero Tigelaar. 

He watched the man in a makeshift Shiz University clutching the stuffed lion toy, already sensing some sort of romantic tension between him and Elphaba. There was no denying the way Eddie’s body tensed when a green hand rested on the man’s cheek, so loving and tender.

As if sensing his friend’s inner turmoil, Dustin turned slightly and whispered, “don’t worry. Rumor has it that he’s more into Boq, if you catch my drift.”

That information allowed Eddie to relax a little, but only for a moment before Elphaba began singing again.

Hands touch, eyes meet Sudden silence, sudden heat

“That’s the song,” Dustin announced to Steve.

Steve nodded, offering a smirk. “So that must be the girl.”

Body wrought with emotion, you could only hope you could stave off the tears until you got offstage. It would be almost impossible to cry and remain on-key, especially given just how low you–not Elphaba–truly felt.

Blithe smile, lithe limb  She who's winsome, she wins him  Gold hair with a gentle curl  That's the girl he chose  And Heaven knows  I'm not that girl

You could get through this. It was no secret that you weren’t Eddie’s type. The girl he chose would be Chrissy Cunningham or someone like her, not the dorky theatre girl who only came out of her shell while performing.

Don't wish, don't start 

Wishing only wounds the heart  I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl  There's a girl I know  He loves her so  I'm not that girl

No, you were definitely not that girl. That girl was backstage, touching up her makeup and probably giggling about the flowers she’d receive from her metalhead crush.

The applause might have been thunderous; it might have been completely silent. You didn’t know. All you could think about was getting off the stage before you got another glimpse of Eddie and the stupid bouquet he was giving to Chrissy. 

The rest of the show was spectacular. Maybe you were a bit biased, considering you were the lead, but it couldn’t have gone any better if you’d tried. You’d even managed to stay in character, keeping your focus on your scene partners rather than the man in the audience who held your heart.

You couldn’t wash off the green makeup fast enough, an arduous process that your castmates thankfully expedited with a plethora of baby wipes and makeup remover. Despite everyone’s best efforts, your face and hands remained tinged with a green hue. You supposed you’d look like that for a few days after the show closed. 

“Excuse me?”

You turned around, still in costume, to see Eddie Munson now standing before you. The two of you were alone, the rest of the cast having cleaned up before you did.

“I think Chrissy’s with her friends,” you blurted out. 

“Oh. Cool.” Confusion creased his brows for a second before he continued. “You did, um, an amazing job tonight. Seriously, I was just…wow. I never knew being anti-establishment could sound so beautiful.”

You smiled, fiddling with a stray black thread on your dress. “Thanks. Elphaba really is a badass.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s eyes flicked over your face. He noticed you looking at the flowers in his arms. “Oh, shit–these are for you. I hope you like them and you’re not, like, allergic or anything.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Maybe I should’ve gotten poppies instead, since, y’know…that was Elphaba’s thing.”

“I love them!” Too enthusiastic. Well, at least you didn’t say you loved him. “You didn’t have to get me anything, though. I’m just glad you liked the show.” Timidly, you admitted, “I’m kind of surprised to see you at the school musical, honestly.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “Can I level with you for a sec?” When you nodded, he sighed. “I didn’t even know the school was doing a musical. I’m only here because I heard you practicing from the Hellfire room, and my friend told me about the show.”

You froze. Did you hear him correctly? Eddie was here because of you? Because he wanted to meet you?

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so green,” he added with a nervous laugh.

You quirked up an eyebrow. “You weren’t expecting the Wicked Witch of the West to be green? Please tell me you’ve seen The Wizard of Oz.”

“Of course I have! It’s a classic. I just didn’t know what Wicked was about.” He raked a hand through his curls. “Anyway, if you’re not busy tonight, I was hoping you might want to hang out? Maybe go to Benny’s and split some cheese fries?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Y-Yeah! I love fries. And cheese.” You cleared your throat, trying to ward off the embarrassment. “Let me just get out of this costume and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Cool. I’ll go tell my friends to fuck off or whatever.” Eddie smiled, shaking his hair out of his beautiful brown eyes. He started towards the door before half-turning to add,

“And, by the way, you look beautiful even when you’re green.”

--

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥?・l.f.

— You never once thought you would meet Lee Felix, especially not while watching an edit of his abs

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, crack, first meetings // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・723 // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・an obscene amount of the word fuck, felix is lowkey really flirty, felix is described as being your "teenage crush" and I didn't even know they existed when I was a teenager but shhhh.

𝐚/𝐧・I wrote this on the bus, lmaoo when I was watching an edit of Felix's abs and thought, What if he saw me doing this? Then, poof, a fic was born.

"You know, it's a lot better in person."

See, out of all the silly little fantasies you had conjured up in your delulu teenage years, you had never once imagined you would meet Lee Fucking Felix while staring at an edit of his abs, hence the humiliating screech that flies from your mouth as you jump about 10 feet off the bench.

Your first reaction is, what the fuck, your second is, why are you here, and the third comes out a little like, "What the—why are you—what the actual fuck?"

It takes a solid 20 mortifying seconds for you to realize that your phone is still playing Lah Pat and Flo Milli's Rodeo during the awkward standoff—between you, the park bench, and this architectural phenomenon of a man. Cue your clamor of limbs desperately trying to shut the damn thing off. Felix’s mirth is transparent, bleeding through his splayed fingers as he uselessly tries to stifle his shocked laughter.

Words are unattainable at that moment; any sense of coherent vocabulary flies out of your gaping jaw as your expression performs facial gymnastics, trying to calculate what the hell is happening right now.

"So wait, you're like real?" you blurt, eyes narrowed like a crazy lady genuinely questioning all planes of existence.

In her defense, your honor, she just met Lee Felix. Look at the man—there's no way he exists on the same planet as us!

He blinks, utterly dumbfounded by your sudden inquiry. "Well, yeah?"

"Wow." That's all you say. Wow. What else can you say? You're still convinced this is all a simulation created by some sadistic scientist.

"What, did you just think I didn’t exist or something?" he chuckles, amber eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Well, I don’t know," you shrug. "I didn’t think I’d ever see you in real life, let alone talk to you."

"Well, I never thought I’d catch such a pretty girl watching edits of my abs in real life, but hey, here we are." His lips form an absolutely perfect smirk, and there's a moment, where his irises catch the light just right; that you can almost make out a flirtatious glint in them—

You pinch yourself—really pinch yourself. Hard. In the thigh. So hard you flinch, and it’s such a big flinch that he notices. He notices so much that he laughs—not warm chuckles, not soft giggles, but a rib-splitting, belly-doubling guffaw that makes you want to crawl into the ground and engrave on your own epigraph: "Death by Hot Guy."

"I—I’m sorry, I—I can’t—" he wheezes. "D-Did you actually just pinch yourself?" The question is purely rhetorical, but that doesn't stop your entire face from flushing about as red as Hyunjin's hair during the Maniac tour.

"Yes!! Lee Fucking Felix just called me pretty! What do you want me to do?? You’re lucky I’m even standing on my own two feet right now!!" You’re sputtering so much nonsense that even you don’t know what you’re talking about. He doesn’t seem to mind—quite the contrary, really. He gazes at you through his brow, strands of golden hair falling over his ears. His laughter fizzles out into a grin—flattered, bashful, and undeniably tender.

Is it too early to start thinking about vows?

Felix clears his throat, and you’re caught off guard by his expression: nervous yet contemplative, as if he’s battling with his next statement. With an anxious titter, he asks, "What’s your name?"

It takes a solid couple of pounding heartbeats to dislodge the answer from your throat, but when you do—“Y/N. My name is Y/N”—my, does heaven sing.

He takes a single step forward before averting his eyes in silent consideration. Whatever was stopping him isn’t anymore, because it takes him about two more steps to close the gap between you, placing a gentle hand on the slope of your shoulder. Your entire body bursts into flames.

Is this real? Is this planet Earth? Have you ever noticed that on his left cheek, if you observe long enough, you can almost make out the Little Dipper in his freckles?

"That’s a pretty name," he smiles, and you swear you see the sun. "Y/N, I was just on my way to the café. Would you like to accompany me on said adventure?"

And that, kids, is how I met your father.

haha this was so silly to write I hope you liked it even though it was a little really caotic

Wanna read something longer? read rewrite the ending in every lifetime a tale of trauma, healing, and felix finding your soul in every lifetime.

[mydearzero]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: What once was an innocent crush on a coworker quickly turned into a full blown infatuation with your boss. She could reprimand you all she wanted, but did she have to wear red while doing so?

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, unit chief!Emily, SMUT, coworkers, very slight dom/sub undertones, office sex, oral sex, grinding, fingering, power imbalance (boss), canon compliant violence, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2.8K words

it's here folks, enjoy. let's just ignore that everything about emily screams woman lover to build tension okay. this was the quickest 2.8K I've written in a long time so uh yeah do with that info what you will (I'm horny for Emily) - nik

You hadn't had the opportunity to work with Emily Prentiss before she left the team to work for Interpol. You'd only just missed each other, you joining mere weeks after she'd left. 

Her reputation preceded her. The team was overly fond of her, even after having faked her own death. You'd seen a picture here or there, but nothing could live up to the Emily Prentiss who met you in New York for the Copycat Killer case. 

She'd been in a relationship with some guy Mark, so you'd really tried to look the other way. But when Hotch went on temporary leave during the whole Scratch situation, she volunteered to rejoin. The day she stepped foot in the bullpen, you knew you were in trouble. 

You could ignore the heat rushing to your face and your hands getting clammy. You could ignore the knowing glances JJ gave you. You could even ignore the digs Luke sent your way once he'd figured out something was going on. What you couldn't ignore, however, was the story Emily was telling while having had one too many drinks. 

"-and my girlfriend at the time freaked out. I tried to tell her it was a fake, but she was already halfway to crying in my arms." 

The words repeated over and over again in your head. 

Girlfriend. 

Her. 

She. 

You could handle an unattainable crush. Hell. Who hadn't had a crush on a straight girl at least once in their life? But knowing Emily played for both teams changed things. It made your irrational feelings rational. You completely lost the ability to look her in the eyes after that. 

You tried to not let your feelings get in the way of your job. The work the BAU did was too important to let that happen. 

It didn't last long. 

An adrenaline rush got the better of you while attempting to talk down an UnSub. But what were you supposed to do? He'd held a gun to Emily's head. One wrong move and it would've been over. You couldn't take that chance. 

Your ears were ringing as tunnel vision took over. The grimy scenery of the warehouse faded into the background. The dripping of the leaking pipes was deafened by your heartbeat. The UnSub's words were drowned out by Emily's haggard breathing. She was scared. 

You did what you had to. You took the shot. The man had dropped to the floor, but not before firing a storm of bullets in your direction, only missing by a few inches. 

While you'd been lucky nobody had been hurt, the same couldn't be said about the team's reactions to your actions. The flight back to Quantico had been short but tense. You wouldn't be hearing the end of this for quite some time to come. 

Though you knew the team would be on edge around you for some time, you hadn't expected what would happen on the very next case. 

"You're off the case." Emily's words were blunt. 

"What? Why?" You questioned. You'd expected to have to take a psych evaluation. Maybe even redo your gun qualifications. But to be put on the bench? Especially on a local case? 

"We've profiled this UnSub as highly unpredictable. I can't have you take uncalculated risks in the field. I appreciate all the work you've done so far, but this is where I need you to step back." Emily looked apologetic. 

"The last case was different! I can stay back here with Penelope. Just let me help, Emily, please," you pleaded. Damn your inability to be mad at her. You couldn't, not when she wore that damn red top that complimented her complexion (and boobs) so well. 

"I'm sorry. We'll talk when we get back." 

Penelope wouldn't let you into her office, so you resorted to catching up on paperwork at your desk. You could've left and taken this as a sign to get some free time. Yet you stayed right there, waiting. 

When Penelope finally left her office with her stuff, ready to go home, you knew the case was over. She asked you to late dinner, but you declined, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. She waved a short goodbye before stepping into the elevator, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

It wasn't long before the elevator moved again, doors opening to reveal Emily Prentiss. Just Emily Prentiss. You frowned as she walked into the bullpen, nodding at her office, signalling you to follow her. 

"Where's the rest?" You wondered, walking through the door and taking a seat across from the desk. Emily shut the door and turned to close the shutters. 

"I sent them home. We'll debrief in the morning," was all she said. 

She gestured to the chair across from hers. You sat, unsure of what to expect next. 

"I think we need to talk about what happened in New York," Emily left it an open statement. She obviously expected you to do the talking. 

"I'm aware my actions didn't look thought through. And maybe they weren't. But I was worried about what he would do to you," you were honest about what had gone down. 

"Worried or not, there are protocols we need to follow. You put everybody in that room in danger by making that choice. How is that any better than having me potentially get shot?" 

You really tried to focus. It was a serious and consequential discussion. But it was at that moment you realized you'd never actually been alone with Emily. You rubbed your hands on your thighs, trying to rid them of their clammyness and the tension that built in your body. 

"I don't know," was your final reply. A weak one, at that. Emily searched your face for answers. She noted the sheen covering your skin and dilated pupils. You felt scrutinized under her gaze. She squinted, slowly leaning back and crossing her arms. 

You hadn't meant to look, but the action brought the red top back to your attention. Your eyes dropped to Emily's cleavage, if only for a second. Your mouth went dry as they quickly snapped back up to meet her now amused ones. A coy smile crept onto her face. Emily took a deep breath before speaking again. This time, you knew better, only looking in your peripheral at how her chest raised and fell. 

"You know, earlier, you mentioned the last case was different. How come?" Emily inquired. She'd caught that, huh? You felt trapped as you figured she'd deduced the real reason for your careless actions.  

You didn't speak as Emily rose from her chair, taking slow strides around the desk. She placed a hand on your shoulder, standing behind you and leaning over the other. Goosebumps raised on your arms as you felt her warm breath against your collar. 

"I think I know," she whispered in your ear. You unconsciously craned your neck, allowing her more access. Your heart beat rapidly. The hand on your shoulder slowly trailed down your arm, rubbing up and down. 

"Would you have taken the shot if it had been JJ? Or Spencer? Or maybe you would've taken it if it were Garcia. You're such great friends, after all," Emily's tone was taunting. The rising temperature of the room was quickly becoming unbearable. 

Her free hand reached for your chin, turning your head to face her. She cupped your cheek gently, admiring the sight of your desperation. She'd barely even touched you. Barely implied anything. 

"Is this what your strange behaviour lately has been about?" Emily asked. You bit your lip, not saying a word. She clicked her tongue, getting annoyed at your lack of response.  

"Is this not what you want?" She walked around the chair, standing in front of you. You couldn't give in. You wouldn't be able to stop. Not if she gave you a taste. Your hands remained firmly planted by your side as Emily did the unthinkable. She put her hands on your shoulders and draped her legs over yours, straddling you. Your eyes closed at the sensation of having her so close. 

The weight of her ass on your thighs was delectable. Her hands trailed down your arms, stopping when they rested on yours. She leaned forward, and you had to suppress a groan at the feeling of her chest pushing against yours. She took your hands and brought them around herself, planting them firmly on her bottom. Your entire body was on fire. 

"Look at me," Emily's voice was sultry. You opened your eyes tentatively, immediately dropping them to her lips, which were now dangerously close to yours. She didn't hesitate, kissing you roughly. Her hands came up to cup your face. You finally gave in, properly holding her on your lap as she fervidly kissed you. 

You moved your mouth away from hers, kissing down her jaw and sucking harshly at the skin of her neck. A timid moan came from her lips. You'd never heard a more beautiful sound. Her fingers started unbuttoning your blouse as you continued your attack, creating blemishes that contrasted with her pale skin. Once she got the blouse off, Emily's hands fondled your breasts roughly. 

"Shit, Em..." You sighed. You leaned back against the chair, admiring Emily in all her glory. 

"You look so fucking good in red, you don't even know," you groaned, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. 

"I do know," Emily raised her arms, allowing you to pull the shirt over her head. "That's why I wear it." 

"You drive me crazy, Prentiss," you finally admitted. 

"I think I know the feeling," Emily moaned, taking your hand and crudely stuffing it down her pants. Luckily the waistband was elastic, allowing you to feel the dampness of her underwear as you manoeuvred your wrist to cup her pussy. 

"Fuck... You don't know how many times I've imagined feeling your pussy," you confessed. "I've dreamt of the things I'd do to you." 

Emily groaned as you pushed her panties to the side, feeling the wetness against your fingers. The positioning of your hand might've been awkward, but you didn't care. Emily opted to go for another kiss as you started rubbing her clit. 

The soft noises she made while her tongue was in your mouth were otherworldly. Her hips ground against your hand, desperate for more friction. 

Emily hooked her fingers into the cups of your bra, not bothering to unclasp it, simply tugging them down to free your tits. She left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest before taking a nipple between her teeth. 

"Fuck- Emily," you whine. She brought her hand up to your other breast, pinching and biting your nipples in tandem. You retaliated by finally circling your fingers over her entrance, pushing two inside. 

"Oh! Ah- Fuck," Emily exclaimed, throwing her head back. You curled your fingers in the way you did to yourself while thinking of her late at night. Emily reached behind her, placing her hands on the edge of the desk, creating more space for you to do what you had to. 

Emily was becoming less coherent with every pump of your fingers. Your thumb hit her clit harshly with every thrust inside her pussy. Just seeing her come undone like this, on your lap, by your hand, was enough for you to drench your own underwear.

You brought your unoccupied hand to her naked waist, admiring her figure. You couldn't believe you got to see her like this after all this time you spent pining. Her eyes were closed as her chest heaved with heavy breaths. 

"Fuck, don't stop," Emily moaned. Her jaw was slack. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the desk tightened. You felt her walls constrict around your fingers. You curled them in a come hither motion as you circled her clit with your thumb. 

Emily's arms shook as her moans turned into high-pitched whines, signalling she was getting close. 

"Shit! Oh my god," She exclaimed, followed by a loud moan of your name. It was like music to your ears. 

She rode out her high as she gushed around your fingers. Your free hand drew soothing patterns on her hip, working her through her climax. 

You carefully withdrew your hand from her panties, bringing your fingers to your mouth and sucking them clean. Emily let herself fall back forward, no longer having the strength to hold up her upper body with her arms. 

She took your fingers from your mouth, wrapping her lips around them and sucking seductively. She released them and pushed herself off your lap, tugging you up from your seat. She switched your positions, pushing you against the desk before getting on her knees. 

Emily reached for the button on your pants, undoing it and tugging it down. She tapped your ankle, signalling you to step out of them and spread your legs. It was a bit awkward with your shoes still on, but you made it work. Her fingers left a trail of goosebumps in their wind as she traced them up your leg to your inner thigh. 

She followed the path she'd just drawn with her mouth, hooking her teeth in the waistband of your underwear, laughing as she tugged them down. You smiled at her antics. 

Her mouth returned between your legs, licking a hesitant stripe between your folds. The kitten licks to your clit drove you crazy. 

"Fuck, please, Em," you begged, bringing your hands to her hair. You couldn't feel more lewd, tits out in your boss's office, said boss between your legs eating you out. The scandal of it all only turned you on even more. 

"Can't believe you put your whole job on the line-," Emily scoffed between licks. "-just because you wanted some pussy." 

"Not just some pussy," you moaned as she sucked on your clit. "Yours." 

"Such a horny little thing for your unit chief," Emily mumbled. The vibrations of her words added to your pleasure. 

Your grip on her dark locks tightened as she fucked your entrance with her tongue expertly. You had to put all your weight against the desk to stop your knees from buckling.

"F-fuck, Em. Oh my god," you groaned as she added her fingers to the mix. 

You dared to look down, only to be met with the finest sight the world had to offer. Emily gazed up at you through her lashes, dark eyes blown wide and amused. You could see her free hand was between her legs, stroking herself at the same rhythm she had with her mouth on your cunt. 

God, did you wish you had Reid's memory right about now. 

You didn't know how much longer you could last. Having had the pleasure of feeling her around your fingers, witnessing her expression as she came. It was enough to have you teetering on the edge. 

"Ah, fuck. I'm close," you whimpered. Emily moaned loudly, her pace increasing. Your hips bucked against her mouth, chasing the pleasure. Her hands came up to your sides, holding you in place. 

You had to withhold from forcefully pushing her head closer, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more more more. 

You balled your fists, throwing your head back. The knot in your abdomen tightened, threatening to snap any second. 

"Oh- shit, please." 

"Come for me." It was like she'd pressed a magic button, your climax immediately upon you as she spoke the words. 

"Emily!" You came with a loud cry, grinding your hips against her mouth. It was mindblowing. You'd never come that hard. Emily helped you ride out your high, careful to not overstimulate you. 

She rose from her position on the floor, hands never leaving your body as she got back on eye level. You searched her face for regret as both of you stood there, taking in the situation and catching your breath. 

She leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your lips. You smiled, kissing her back passionately. She helped you redress your upper body, all while never breaking the kiss. 

You separated to pick up your respective discarded pieces of clothing. The atmosphere was light. There was no unresolved tension as you had expected. A mutual understanding had been created. 

Emily grabbed her stuff and walked with you down to the bullpen. "Dinner tomorrow, my place," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you agreed, putting your things in your bag. 

"For now, go get your go bag out of your car," she instructed, locking the door to her office. 

"Why?" You asked as you walked with her to the elevator. 

"Because you can return the favour and have an early appetizer in my bed tonight." 

[summerclementine27]

Meet Me in The Hallway🌷pt. 1

summary: Mr. Styles has possibly interested Y/N more than his literature classes and she finds herself pining for him over the months.

pairings: professor!harry, student!reader

warnings: small age difference, mentions of smut

word count: 4.7k

note: i wanted to make this one part but it will be too long so there will have to be a part 2

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/summerclementine27/757559698881986560/meet-me-in-the-hallway-pt2

Tender days of mid-October

As I took my seat in the large lecture hall, a sense of anticipation loomed over me. Today, Mr. Styles was giving us the results of the last literature and theory criticism coursework I had handed in the previous week. This was my third class with him, one of two this school year, the other being Contemporary Literature. Last year, he taught me Introduction to Literature, a mandatory class for my degree. Though I dreaded it at first due to his choice of reading list, I ended up falling in love with the course because of the way he taught it. Some works I initially criticized him for choosing, he ended up using as examples and critiqued them himself, like "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. Plus, it helped that he was impossibly handsome with his tall frame, tousled brown hair, and piercing green eyes.

When my friends noticed how much I liked his class, they were unfazed. However, as I became somewhat of a teacher’s pet in a class rudimentary compared to the others I took this year—such as Feminism and Literature, Historical Narratives in Fiction, and Postcolonial Literary Criticism—they realized that maybe the tall, green-eyed man was what had really piqued my interest, not discussing "Middlemarch" for four classes.

On days when I had his class, I dressed extra nicely, sometimes even daring to pair a clean collared shirt with a shorter-than-usual skirt. One time, I even left my wool trench coat on during the first period and stood up from my auditorium seat to take it off. Sitting in the back, the rows of chairs likely covered the lower part of my body, but I was sure the space between my long boots and short skirt was visible from his vantage point. Surely, my abrupt standing would grab his attention. What I didn’t anticipate was him pausing in the middle of a long train of thought to stare, then quickly catching himself and stuttering before continuing seamlessly as I knew he would. My friend Anika, seated in one of the front rows, noticed and turned to see what had caught his attention. To her dismay, I was playing games with someone totally unattainable again. But she knew I thrived on academic validation, and this little crush of mine would only drive me to excel in more classes.

"Are you serious, Y/N? He's our professor." she exclaimed once.

"I know, but he's just... different."

"Different? Or is it the way he looks at you when you answer a question?"

"Maybe both. Besides, this crush is making me work harder. You can't argue with the results."

"Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

In fact, it drove me to do more than that. One time, Mr. Styles noticed my passion for poetry after I shamelessly defended the works of Sylvia Plath with a controversial view that modern poetry should not shy away from the stark realities of mental health. He gave me a few poetry anthologies and compilations, including his annotated copies. I fawned over reading his notes and even emailed him once, pretending that I had "accidentally" annotated something, forgetting it wasn’t my own copy after losing myself in the literature. He replied kindly:

Mr. Styles: "Please, feel free to annotate as much as you like. I would be honored to have your opinions inked on my favorite copies."

By the next semester, after encouraging me to join the poetry society, Mr. Styles nominated me for president, and I was thrilled to win. He insisted on celebrating, gently grasping my upper arm and smiling warmly as he said he expected nothing less. I brought a bottle of wine to his office, where he had asked me to meet him, only to find the entire poetry society there, ready to congratulate me. The gathering lingered for a few delightful hours before everyone left, leaving just the two of us to clean up.

"You really impressed everyone tonight, Y/N. Not that I'm surprised." He began once we were truly all alone.

"Thank you, Mr. Styles. I couldn't have done it without your support."

"Well, you deserve it. By the way, outside of class and school hours, you can call me Harry." He said in his thick Manchester accent.

"Only if you stop calling me Ms. Y/L/N." I joked.

"Hey! I only do that sometimes. Plus, I can't call out to you in class like, 'Y/N, will you read the next slide?' People will think..."

"...think I’m the teacher’s favorite?" I finished his sentence with a teasing smile.

I couldn’t take the lingering stares and supposedly accidental touches we were both guilty of. But I knew that if I really wanted this, if I wanted to be more than just a student he regretted being tempted by when I graduated, then I had to play the long game.

And indeed I did. I kept up my habit of always showing up well-dressed in elegant coats and well-fitting clothing. I accentuated my features with a light coat of makeup, even if I had to apply it on a bumpy bus ride to campus. I even signed up for his office hours, despite really not needing them, just to exchange thoughts and opinions under the guise of “wanting to make sure I'm on the right track.” I wanted him to get to know me more, to realize that despite my youth, I was mature and thoughtful.

At the start of the second year, he emailed me to come to campus a few times in August, a month before the start of term, to discuss my responsibilities as the founder of the debate team. The idea sparked in his mind after I excelled in the heated debate he chose to hold as our first-year final assessment. He was so in awe that he went as far as saying I could compete at a national level on the English debate team, which neither of us was certain of, but I accepted the compliment.

Our earlier meetings were spent cooped up in his office, reviewing why the last debate team failed almost a decade ago and planning the structure for the new team. We discussed everything from team dynamics to potential debate topics, ensuring we were prepared for any challenge.

On one of the hotter days in August, we took our meeting to the university courtyard, having grown tired of experiencing the last bursts of England’s so-called summer from his office window. It was a beautiful window, and a big one at that, but it didn’t compare to actually being outside. That day, I realized the majority of planning for the next few months had already been accomplished in our first few meetings, and I got the hint that he didn’t actually need my help now that I had settled everything I could that wasn’t on an administrative level. So naturally, I decided to have a little fun.

I was wearing penny loafers with black tailored pants that I got fitted for when I visited my mum in London in July. I had paired them with a light knit sweater that fit slightly loosely over my shoulders, often falling down to reveal a collarbone. When I saw him take off his blazer and loosen his tie, I took that as my green light to take off something of my own, knowing I was wearing a neat white tank top underneath. As I slipped the sweater off, covering my face with the fabric, I could see his face through the thin material, making out his features and briefly noticing his eyes on my body. Sitting up straight, I managed to remove the sweater from over my head neatly. Once he saw my face, a soft blush made it to his own.

"Did I mess up my hair?" I asked, as if I hadn’t planned on brushing down the strands that had likely gone astray or as if I was oblivious to the fact that I had just taken off my sweater in front of him.

"Um, yeah, a bit at the top," he said, chuckling as if he wasn’t just clearing his throat in a flustered manner before my face was revealed from under the sweater.

To my surprise, he reached out, inching himself closer to where I was sitting on the bench we shared. With two fingers, his index and middle, he gently brushed down the messy hair on either side of the top of my head.

"Thank you, Harry," I said softly.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what would happen later this year.

As the class settled down to receive their marks on the literature and theory criticism coursework, Mr. Styles walked in, dressed in a well-fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt. He took off his coat and placed it on the edge of his desk, a departure from his usual habit of draping it over the back of his chair. He wasted no time before pulling out the papers from his leather satchel and making his way down the aisles of the lecture hall, passing out the papers to everyone. When he read out my name, I watched as his eyes searched for me across the hall, darting from one side of the room to the other. It was unlike me to skip his class, so he knew all he had to do was find me. I hadn’t planned this specific event, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. Once he found me, he smiled sheepishly, yet much more subtly than he did when we were alone and made his way to me.

"Excellent work, Y/L/N," he said as he gently placed the papers on my desk. "I especially appreciate the effort of handwriting this," he remarked, although everyone knew he didn’t care if papers were written by hand or typed on a computer.

I had deliberately written my paper by hand after he replied to an email of mine. I had thanked him for letting me borrow his books, and his response was a charming note saying he’d enjoyed reading my annotations and adored my handwriting. For once, I was glad that my all-girls school had emphasized cursive writing, as I used it to add a romantic touch to my work.

When I finally read his comments and feedback, I was met with admiration and praise. In one of the margins, he had written, “Your insights are so compelling, it’s impossible not to fall in love with your analysis.” On the final page, at the bottom, he had added, “It’s a privilege to be your professor. Your brilliance shines so brightly that it’s clear this paper is a testament to your exceptional talent.”

Often times I worried that there actually was something going on between us, and that his praise and charming were remarks were not that of a proud professor, but of an infatuated man instead. So that day, I decided to address it.

As the lecture drew to a close, I lingered in my seat, carefully packing up my belongings with deliberate slowness. The classroom slowly emptied, the murmur of students’ conversations fading into the background as they made their way out. I wanted to be alone with Mr. Styles, to discuss something that had been weighing on my mind. By the time I made my way down the row of seats to his desk, the room was empty except for the two of us.

“Mr. Styles,” I began hesitantly, catching his eye as he gathered his papers. “I was hoping to ask you something.”

He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Of course, go ahead. I’m actually glad you stayed behind. There’s something I’d like to ask you as well.”

A sudden rush of anxiety gripped me. The possibility of crossing a line—whether I had done so with my subtle flirtations or if he were about to make a move that could alter our dynamic—was almost too much to bear.

My fantasies of him flashed through my mind. I had dreamt of intimate moments with him like kissing him, waking up in his bed, or better yet, on the couch in his office after a late romantic night together. I had once pictured us sitting on the floor around his small coffee table as we did one time when they ordered takeout during one of our August meetings except this time I would slip my shoes off casually and find a way to stroke my foot, clothed thin leggings, against his leg, looking at him with doe eyes as I dare to not so innocently asks if he ever thought about me sexually.

Hell, I even pictured him going down on me after laying me on his desk and even touched myself to the idea of riding him while he sat on his office chair. I would sneak into the small space between him and his desk and shut off his laptop while he graded my papers, cockily saying “We already know I got an A” – despite my crippling self-doubt without tangible affirmation – as I sit on his lap. In this fantasy he would laugh at my remark and gladly embrace me with a hand on my ass, the other intertwined among thick locks of my long hair, messing it up as I teasingly kiss him, ever so aware of the friction I’m creating between our crotches.

But still, to think that he would propose something to me in that moment, sexual or romantic, casually after class as if I haven’t been pining for two Octobers made me incredibly nervous.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice as I met his gaze. “Mr. Styles, well, first of all this has nothing to do with the actual course itself, maybe a bit but...” I trailed off “It’s... it’s been on my mind for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. “Sure, go ahead. I’m happy to answer anything.” He smiled shyly to comfort me.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as I prepared to voice my concerns. “Do you think that maybe my behavior in class, my enthusiasm, or even my approach to your feedback has influenced you to… um… maybe to favor me? Over other students I mean.” I began nervously, desperately searching for an expression on his blank face.

“Maybe sometimes I get a little excited and forget that you are my professor and not my friend or something, I think I may have overstepped my boundaries but… but you treat me as an equal which, by the way, I have always greatly appreciated. I mean, it has offered me an opportunity to grow as a student like no other, but I still worry…”I trailed off, now a stern look evident on his face and possibly even hurt.

He paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered my words. “I appreciate your honesty and self-awareness,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft. “It’s clear that you’re passionate and dedicated, and I value that. But it’s important to remember that I strive to maintain fairness in all my interactions with students.”

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “I understand, Mr. Styles. I just want to make sure that if I take pride in these academic accomplishments… if I want to revel in the fact that I always receive praise from you and rarely any criticism – like todays feedback for example, which included no criticism, I want to make sure it is because I am worthy of it. And not because I won you over by involving myself in your extracurriculars or because we are… uh.. friendly.”

He looked at me with a reassuring smile, his gaze steady and sincere. “First of all, let me assure you that you are never inappropriate. The friendship we’ve developed is separate from our academic interactions. Outside of school hours, I call you by your first name to maintain that distinction. In the classroom, I evaluate you purely on your merit.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone earnest. “The reason your feedback today contained no criticism is that your paper was truly flawless. If there had been any weaknesses or areas for improvement, I would have pointed them out without hesitation. I hold you in very high regard academically, and that respect extends to all aspects of your work. If I ever notice any shortcomings, I will address them so you have the opportunity to refine and grow.”

His expression softened, a touch of concern in his eyes. “The only issue I see here is that you are doubting yourself. Your achievements and the praise you receive are well-deserved. You have a remarkable ability, and I believe in your potential. My only hope is that you start to see in yourself what I see in you – a brilliant, dedicated student who deserves every bit of recognition they receive.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief and a renewed confidence. When I looked down at my lap I heard him continue:

“And of course I value the relationship we have fostered outside of class. Would I be the man I am today if you hadn’t introduced me to the wonders of Moroccan cuisine?” He tried to joke to ease the tension and unsurprisingly it worked as it earned him a soft chuckle of honest amusement.

“Theres the y/n I know and love” he bantered though I cant say my heart didn’t skip a beat at the mention of the word “love”.

“You know, there are many other cuisines you’re yet to try,” I said with a playful glint in my eye. “For someone who’s so well-traveled and cultured, it’s surprising how much you’ve missed out on when it comes to food.” I teased.

“Well, perhaps you’ll tell me all about it when we’re in Amsterdam for the debate competition,” he said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine excitement.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You secured that for us?” My voice wavered slightly as my heart leaped with joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m so excited. This is incredible news!”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I thought you’d like that. It’s an excellent opportunity, and I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”

I couldn’t help but beam, my excitement bubbling over. “This is amazing, truly. Thank you so much!” I stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness and dedication.

As I reached out, our hands brushed briefly, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through me. His gaze softened, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m just glad we get to share this experience together,” he said softly.

The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken words and mutual appreciation. I nodded, my heart full of gratitude and warmth. “Me too,” I murmured, feeling the depth of our connection more than ever before.

Time jump – December is getting ready for Christmas.

As we stepped into the hotel lobby, the excitement was palpable among the debate team. Amsterdam was already charming me, even though I’d only glimpsed it through the bus window. The streets were lined with picturesque canals and quaint buildings, each one more enchanting than the last. I couldn’t help but talk animatedly about how I’d dreamed of visiting the Netherlands ever since my father told me stories about the blooming flower fields when I was a child.

Harry, who had been sitting beside me on the bus, watched with a fond smile. “You really seem to love the city,” he said. “Maybe we could find a couple of free days between the training and the competition to visit the flower fields.”

My eyes widened in delight. “Really? That would be incredible. But managing a whole field trip with the debate team might be a bit complicated.”

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, we could go alone. Just you and me. A little escape from the team.” He added. “We could explore some other things too if we’d like.”

The thought of spending time alone with him, wandering through a sea of flowers, made my heart race. I felt a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “That sounds amazing. I’d love that.”

When we checked into the hotel and were given our room keys, Anika, my vice president, and I realized that Harry and I had rooms on a separate floor. In fact, they were deluxe rooms though him and I booked standard rooms for everyone when we went over the budget. Anika seemed particularly perplexed by this.

“Why did you get such a nice room and I didn’t?” Anika questioned, her tone tinged with curiosity as she approached me in the lobby.

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Maybe Mr. Styles thought I needed a little extra comfort. You know, as president” I joked, not really sure if that was the case. “Besides, he probably just had to make decisions based on what was available.” I found myself lying, knowing I was curious myself.”

Anika raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s using the budget money to splurge on you. I’ve noticed you two have become quite friendly. Could it be that he has a thing for you?” she teased, knowing I have spent months pining and flirting.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so, Anika. We’re friends, and that’s all it is. I don’t think he feels anything else.” I said, confidant of my words for the first time in this conversation. “Plus, you are the only person other than me and Harry that got her own room. Others are sharing and you likely have a king bed all to yourself.”

“Harry? Is that his name now?” she smirked. “I guess you forgot to tell me you are on a first name basis. Are you holding out on me Y/L/N?” she joked though she was never oblivious to the fact that you kept some encounters with Harry to yourself, as if it would fuel the fantasy somehow.

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a playful grin. “Oh, come on. You have to admit everyone in the poetry society calls him that when we are outside the university.” I said, knowing that it was only one guy who was a family friend of Harry’s who got the honor.

She chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “Right. But you can’t deny there’s something a bit… special about how you two interact. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not holding my breath for anything more on this trip. We’re here for the debate, remember? That’s the focus. But if anything happens later…” I shrugged playfully as she returned my knowing smile.

“Fair enough. Just keep your eyes open anyway, okay? Sometimes things happen when you least expect them to.”

I heard Harry calling my name from the end of the hall. I turned around to see him walking towards me with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey, do you still want to gather the debate team for a brief practice session before the afternoon debate?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, no need. You were right; they need a break. Plus, everyone has their notecards and seems prepared.”

Harry nodded, his smile relaxing into a satisfied grin. “Alright then. Let’s head to the elevator; it’ll be a bit quieter now anyway.”

We walked to the elevator together, and once inside, he pressed the button for my floor. The confined space seemed to amplify the gentle hum of the elevator, making it feel intimate.

Harry glanced at me with a soft smile, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “Your hair looks different today. Did you do something special with it?” he asked, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

I felt a tinge of embarrassment, my cheeks warming slightly. “I just blow-dried it differently since I was in a rush this morning,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Harry’s smile grew, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Well, it looks beautiful. I wouldn’t have guessed it was rushed.”

His compliment made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Harry. That makes me feel a lot better about this hectic morning” I tried to divert the conversation, feeling nervous at his focus on me.

“Yeah, well, at least you have matching socks,” he joked, and before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he lifted his foot, revealing his own mismatched socks with a playful grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You and your accidental fashion choices,” I said, shaking my head with a smile, remembering that time I complimented his shoes only to find out he ordered the wrong ones online and couldn’t get them returned. He looked handsome in them anyway, I had told him.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And besides, it’s a good thing someone’s got their fashion game on point around here.” He said, brushing off the fact that it was a rushed accident.

I playfully nudged him. “Well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. And for the record, I do have matching socks today, just in case you were wondering.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at me, a warmth in his gaze that made my heart flutter. “Well, I must say, your socks are a lot less distracting than mine.”

I chuckled, feeling the tension between us ease into something more comfortable and light-hearted.

As the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to my floor, Harry didn’t make a move to exit. Instead, he turned to me with a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Let me walk you to your room. It’s the least I can do. After all, it’s not every day I get to be a gentleman,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that his room was directly across from the elevator.

I laughed softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too kind, Harry. It’s just down the hall here,” I said, gesturing toward my door, which was a short distance away from his.

As we walked together down the hallway, the atmosphere felt lighter, filled with a quiet, pleasant tension. Harry’s presence beside me was comforting, and I found myself appreciating the little things—like how he occasionally glanced my way, as if trying to make the moment last just a bit longer.

When we reached my door, Harry reached out and brushed his hand lightly against mine as he opened the door for me. “Even so, a little extra time with you—well, when else can I talk about my accidental shenanigans and have someone listen intently?” His voice was low and warm, and his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent a thrill down my spine.

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words but remained blissfully unaware of the deeper implications behind his gaze. “Well,” I said, smiling as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Thanks for walking me. It’s always nice to have a bit of company, especially when the company is as pleasant as yours.”

Harry’s smile grew softer, and he took a step back, still holding my gaze. “Anytime, y/n. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.

“You too, Harry.” I said as he walked back to his own room.

——————————————————————

PART TWO IS NOW UP 🌷🌷

[runningfrom2am]

red blazer (c.s.)

pairing: coryo x fem!reader

wc: 2k

tags/warnings: reader is arachne's "little sister" (they're like, a year apart lol but she GIVES little sister), sexual content if you actually squint, arachne is mean but in a big sister way, otherwise it's just cute and kinda funny. idk. enjoy!

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav / coriolanus snow masterlist

a/n: omg second ever coryo oneshot from me. LISTEN- i know i should do more of these BUT i loveee doing series for him bc his personality is SO fun to work with. anyway lol, check out my coryo series'.

"Maybe if you spent less time annoying me and my friends you would make some of your own." Arachne hums, sensing you standing in the doorway to the dining room where she and her friends were apparently working on some kind of assignment.

"I didn't even say anything!" You whine. "I was literally just coming to say hi."

"Well, don't. No one wants to say hi to you."

You pout, staring at her and crossing your arms. "Can I sit? Just for a few minutes? I won't even say anything. I won't bother you, I promise." There was an extremely tempting empty seat across from your sister and next to her friend Coriolanus that you'd been eying since you walked in.

He was just so pretty, so well composed, so tall, you were in love. Your crush on him had been lifelong, and with him only thirteen months older than you, it wasn't at all weird or totally unattainable. That's what you'd been telling yourself, anyway.

Arachne rolls her eyes, slamming her pen down on the table. "I already told you, the fact that you even exist is annoying to me. So, no. Go. Away."

"Arachne, it's fine if she sits for a few minutes." Clemensia cuts in, eager to just be polite but it makes you smile, nodding excitedly.

"Yeah, not everyone is as easily distracted as you are." Your heart flutters in your chest as Coriolanus comes to your defense, and you're already across the room and sliding into the seat next to him.

"You underestimate how annoying my little sister is." Arachne mumbles through gritted teeth, already looking back down at her textbook.

Coriolanus looks over at you and smiles, making the butterflies in your stomach erupt into a panicked frenzy.

"Hi." You whisper, cheeks flushing red.

"Hi." He replies quietly, his tone apologetic.

To Coriolanus Snow, Arachne's little sister was an outlier to her incredibly stuck-up family. She acted out often, was no stranger to commanding the attention of every room she entered, and to him, was the most beautiful girl to ever walk the academy halls.

So every time a group project or paper was assigned, he was forcing himself into the seat next to the oldest Crane daughter and requesting that they work together.

"Maybe at your house? Like usual?"

And it worked, one hundred percent of the time.

"What are you working on?" You whisper, leaning your elbow on the table and looking at the books he had laid out in front of him.

"Nothing fun, I assure you." He chuckles quietly, and you ignore your sister's glare that you could feel burning into your forehead.

"That's boring." You sigh quietly. "What's your favourite class?"

"Law."

"Law?" The way you scrunch up your nose and question his answer makes him smile. "I am sorry for you."

He laughs even though you weren't joking, about to ask what your favourite class was when he's stopped by your sister shouting.

"Mom! Y/N's annoying us, make her go away!"

In a flash, you're shoving the chair back and darting out of the room, disappearing down the long hall of the penthouse.

You were adorable. He knew at that moment that he had to have you.

Being Arachne Crane's "little" sister was a nightmare all on its own. She was annoying, she hated you or at least acted like it, and despite being the baby of the family it felt like every day you were making desperate attempts to claw your way out of her and your brother's collective shadow.

Maybe that's all this was. Did you really like Coriolanus, or did you just like annoying your sister?

The thought crossed your mind only momentarily before Coryo tugged gently at your hair to turn your head so he could detach his lips from yours only to move his kisses and gentle bites to your neck.

Nope, there was no way this had anything to do with your sister.

You let out a soft sigh, holding his shoulders to support yourself as you straddle his lap on the edge of your bed. "Coryo..." You whine, pouting because you know he only has so much time before his absence from the dining room would be truly noticed, and he was dragging this out more than he probably should.

"Tell me what you need, pretty girl." He hums into your skin, his hold on you shifting your hips and tightening over the waistband of your underwear- the only remaining article of clothing on your body.

"Hurry." You mumble, tilting your head down to capture his lips again.

"I told her I was leaving." He tells you between kisses. "We have all the time in the world." You can feel the smile on his lips against your own, and you match it in excitement.

By now, you'd been sneaking around for months. It had been fun, but certainly exhausting.

Worth it. One hundred percent worth it. You think to yourself as he lifts you to turn you over and lay you back on your perfectly made bed, leaning over you and reattaching his lips to your neck.

"How will you leave?" You ask breathlessly as his large hand finds your waist again, gentle but firm in its hold.

"We'll figure it out." He mumbles, clearly very far from concerned about it.

You're almost too caught in the moment to hear the banging on your door that causes you both to freeze, heads snapping in the direction of the sound.

"Y/N! Where's my shirt?! I know you took it!"

Arachne.

"Shit, shit, uh-" You panic as Coryo very quickly jumps off of you, tumbling loudly off the bed and onto the ground getting caught on the edge of your duvet.

"What the hell are you doing? I'm coming in-"

"No!" You shout, panicked as you look around. "Uh- one second, I'm naked!" Not entirely a lie. While Coryo gathers his academy uniform that's scattered across the floor, having left him only in his black boxers, you pull a towel off the back of your door and wrap it around yourself.

You have to hide him. Quickly scanning the room, you have three options: your walk-in closet, under the bed, or in your bathroom.

"Get in the closet." You whisper, quickly shoving him toward the door.

"I don't care, I need my shirt!" Arachne says, the sound of her opening your door masking the sound of your closet door closing.

Your chest is rising and falling quickly as she marches in, immediately looking around. "God, what took you so long? You look like you're having a heart attack." She mutters, digging through the laundry basket that was yet to be taken by the house staff.

"I was about to have a shower." You answer, forcing yourself to not look in the direction of the closet.

"Right." Arachne rolls her eyes, stomping into the bathroom to begin looking there.

"Why the hell are you showering at six pm? We have dinner at the Creed's in an hour." She calls out.

"That's obviously why I'm having a shower." Honestly, you had totally forgotten about dinner.

"Yeah, you probably should. It stinks in here."

You roll her eyes at her comment, but they widen in horror as her warpath begins toward the closet. "No! Wait!" You stop her, clutching the towel to your chest as you step in front of the door to stop her. "Uh- what shirt are you looking for?"

"Which shirt? The white one, with the lace trim collar. Oh my god, do you have more than one?" She asks angrily.

"Oh, that one is in the laundry. They took it yesterday." You lie and she groans, walking back toward the door.

"I hate you! God, you make everything so difficult." She mutters, stopping on her walk back to the door and looking at the few articles of clothing scattered around your bed. You follow her gaze, biting your tongue and internally cursing when you notice Coryo's blazer that was dropped haphazardly on top of the pile. She picks it up, looking it over with a furrowed brow. You watch as she looks over at yours, which is neatly pressed and folded for the morning sitting on your desk chair.

"A men's medium." She says as she reads the tag, pausing before turning back to you slowly, this time, with an off-putting smile on her face. "Who's in the closet?" She whispers, and your face burns more than it already was.

"No one." You answer quickly, possibly too quickly.

"You're lying." She states, and you shake your head quickly. It doesn't go over her head that you look like a deer caught in the headlights. "Then you won't mind if I..." She says, starting off slow before breaking into a run toward the door which you instinctively block with your body, gripping the towel with one hand and holding out the other arm to block her while you fight for the door handle handle.

"I knew it!" She hisses, finally giving up and pointing a finger right at your nose. Quickly, she looked back over her shoulder toward the open door to make sure no one else was around before she spoke again. "Is it Allium?" She asks quietly, for some reason suddenly interested in who you spend your time with, and if it's with that boy in your year who continually gets on your nerves.

You shake your head again, swallowing thickly.

"Tell me who it is."

"No one!" You lie, already knowing the bit was up as she tosses the blazer back to where she found it.

"Ugh, you're no fun." She rolls her eyes, shoving you gently before turning to leave. "Whatever. I don't care. Just don't get pregnant- I know you're stupid and all but Mom will skin you alive."

"Get out!" You snap, walking over and shoving her out the door before slamming it behind her.

You hear her laugh as she walks away, steps receding down the hall back in the direction of her own room.

You let out a tense sigh of relief, waiting a moment to hear her door closed before going over to the closet and opening the door.

Coryo is still laughing to himself as he buttons up his shirt and tucks the back of it into his pants. "Stop!" You exclaim in a whisper, giving him a gentle smack on the shoulder but you can't help but laugh as well. "It's not funny!"

"It's pretty funny." He says lowly, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"It's not that funny." You roll your eyes playfully. "We could get in serious trouble, sneaking around like this! God- it's crazy." You sigh, shaking your head as you step back into your room, suddenly serious.

He follows, sensing your worries as you drop the towel with your back facing him, quickly pulling a t-shirt on to cover up. "We can't- we have to stop." You shake your head, talking mostly to yourself.

"Hey, woah, that's a little rash, don't you think?" He asks as you turn back to face him.

"I don't!" You insist. "I mean, it sucks, but this is far too risky. We're done with... whatever this is."

Coryo shrugs, clearly unaffected by your concerns. "Let's just... next time, let's just go for dinner or something."

You tilt your head at him. "What? That's not, we can't-"

"Why not?" He asks, closing the space between you and reaching his hands out to grab your waist. "Your sister will suck it up eventually. Once she realizes how in love you are with me."

"I- I am not in love with you!" You protest, cheeks flushing pink again. "And even if I was, which I am most definitely not, she would scalp me. She doesn't care, I can't date one of her friends."

"Let me handle her." He insists, once again shrugging it off. "I'm being serious. I really like spending time with you, would it be the worst thing if we were together?"

"Wait, like, you're asking me out?"

He gives you a quick nod, still smiling at you.

"I- I mean sure, if that's what you want." You nod, blush spreading evenly across your nose. You had to blink a few times to confirm you were awake and that this was real.

"I'm asking if that's what you want." He chuckles.

"Yeah, yes. Of course." You shake your head, trying to get your thoughts straight and pull yourself together. "I would like that, Coryo."

taglist: @keziahcore, @soulessjourney, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @rororo06, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @slytherinholland, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @darlingisntit, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world, @that-veela-girl

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Unattainable

Pairing: LSU!Joe Burrow X Original Fem!Character (unrequited) & LSU!Joe Burrow x BFF!Reader (eventually)

Summary: he’s the lovable quarterback that all women want to get their hands on, but none seem to successfully capture his heart.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: 18+, language, drugs and alcohol

Asking a guy out requires strategy, asking a guy out who has girls that are friends requires a lot more technique, but asking a guy out who has a girl best friend is a hopeless task. You know when you can tell that they’re inseparable from just one encounter, but everyone assures you that there’s nothing going on between them. Yea, a horrible idea to start with. The ones- like your friends- who aren’t pursuing guys in this predicament severely underestimate the task, but continue to push you towards it.

So here you are at a party celebrating his victory on LSU’s football team and in walks Y/n. She spots you and rushes over to where you’re sitting.

“Skylar! I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Because your back is always to me.

“We should hang out sometime.”

A time when you’re not attached to his hip?

“You know what-

Her phone buzzed in her hand before she could finish. “Fuck I need to go, enjoy the rest of the party!”

She gives you a side hug then races back over to the door when in walks the man of the hour. Tall, kind, strong, confident and painfully unattainable, when she’s around nothing in the world exists to him but her and her ridiculously curly hair.

Y/n presses her lips to his ear with an urgent look on her face. Without waiting a second he takes her hand and walks back out. You don’t know what she said to get him to leave with her, but knowing them it could’ve been anything.

So here you are at a party for Joe Burrow, without Joe Burrow. A party you only attended to ask him out at, but here you are sitting by yourself. It was a dumb plan anyway.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The next time you tried to ask him out was at a bar. You were with some of your friends and everyone was having a great time getting drunk and letting loose, when Joe and his friends walked in. You immediately started fixing your hair, outfit, anything he could see if he looked over. The sounds of your friends drunk giggles filled your ears.

“God Sky, just ask him out already.”

“She’s been crushing on him for forever.”

“If you want we could help you.”

Your eyes widened, “Kylie no. No one is doing anything, going anywhere or even looking at him.”

The girl scoffed, “weren’t you just eyefucking him?”

“Maybe you’re just not his type.” A voice joining the table whispered. Gina. She once tried to ask him out as well, when he declined she took it real hard.

“Of course I’m his type, I’m brunette and curvy like his ex.” You point out.

A wicked grin rose on her face, “maybe. But you aren’t a 5 '5-5' 7 curly headed and brown skin like his new girl.”

“They’re just friends.” The words felt like sand coming out your mouth.

“You know what, I’m gonna prove to Gina that every *hiccup* one has a chance.” Kylie stumbled off her stool and walked over to his table, it was more like a baby deer walking for the first time, then fell into him.

“Oh my god.” You cringed for her.

“She’s fucking stupid.”

“Gina, shut the fuck up.”

Over at Joe’s table, some of his friends were laughing at Kylie’s attempts at flirting with him, while y/n just looked amused. They ‘chat’ for a few minutes before you hear Ky say, “would you like to go out sometime?” You know his answer is probably going to be a no, but it’s all about how he answers and it was telling.

His cheeks blush a bit, some from the alcohol and from her question. Then he looks up at Kylie, but glances at y/n, who was now over at the bar, for more than a few seconds. You leave your seat before she comes back to the table. As you walk past the bar y/n smiles and waves at you before taking her drinks back to their table.

Why does she have to be nice?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Walking into the victory party rushes a wave of deja vu over your body. This entire season felt like one giant celebration which was great for LSU, but you were partied out by now. Kylie invited you because she’s an LSU legacy, so this was a euphoric experience for her. You just wanted to find a random corner and maybe a joint to relax. Luckily there was an entire lounge full of stoners to keep your company.

An hour into the party Kylie came to check on you and immediately started laughing at your current state. “Sky, I think you’re living up to your name right now.”

You smiled up at her with lidded eyes. “This is all I ever want in life Ky.”

“Ok bubs.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Joe was on the other side of the lounge with his own drug of choice. You didn’t seem to notice him until his name was being shouted out.

Kylie looks over her shoulder and sees him. “Sky…”

You look around her and there he is, sitting with one leg propped on the other, LSU snapback backwards on his head and a cigar in hand. “He’s so hot, but so not worth it.”

“Since when? You’ve been trying to ask him out all year.”

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “Exactly all year it never worked out because he’s in love with her.”

“Who?”

“Her.”

Looking back over at him, Kylie watches as a girl with waist length braids walks over to him and sits on the couch.

── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ──

“You asshole, you left me with the Js to get bodied in beer pong.” You pout reaching over for his forgotten cup. “What is this?”

“Don’t laugh.”

Like a reflex, a smile pushes your cheeks up. “Why would I laugh?”

Rolling his eyes. “Because I know you.”

“Fine I won’t laugh. Now tell me.”

“It’s lemonade with a shot of vodka.”

You finally take a sip of it. “It’s not bad, why would I laugh at that?”

“Because I had to cut open a CapriSun for the lemonade.” His face flushed at the confession and tried to look away.

“You’re so cute.” You smiled and turned his head back towards you.

“Yea, that’s a lot coming from the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He takes your drink and sets it on the ground then puts out his cigar.

His eyes meet yours as you unconsciously scratch the back of his head with your fingers. “That’s sweet, but I’m not- JOEY!”

Without warning he lifts you up onto his lap, his arms go around your waist and yours wrap around his neck. You feel your face get hot, “what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done a long time ago.” Then his hands bring your face to his and kisses you.

You freeze for a moment before melting against his soft lips and inhaling the rich spice from his mouth. His cap is knocked off as your fingers glide through his silky hair. A deep groan is sucked into your mouth and his arms tighten their hold on your body.

You’re on a cloud of pure bliss just the two of you until a few whistles are heard from the ground. He pecks your bruised lips once more before you hide in his neck.

“What took you so long?” Your giggles vibrate into his collar.

“You didn’t give me many signs.” You pushed yourself off his shoulder with enough force to almost end up on the ground, luckily his arms stabilized you.

“Joseph.”

“Hey it’s true, it’s not like you were the jealous girl who pushed people away from me. You tried to set me up with Skylar once.” He defends.

“Yea because I’m a nice person and yall would be cute together.”

“See you didn’t make anything easy for me.” He smirked.

Your eyes rolled so far back you could watch the memories of him with other girls. “I can’t with you.”

“Too bad, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I hate-

He ambushes your lips with a fervent desire that ends up with your teeth clashing as you start laughing. “Is this your way of getting me to stop now?”

“Yup.” And kisses you once more.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

main masterlist

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is having a hard time trying to convince himself that being with you is wrong, but he plans another date anyway. You're floating on cloud nine after Saturday night, but you're quickly brought back down to earth the next time you see him. Lucky for you, Bradley more than makes up for his indiscretion at the end of the night.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was completely stunned, sitting on his living room couch with his soft cock hanging out of his jeans. He heard you start your car, and he saw your tail lights shine through the window blinds as you backed out of his driveway and drove away. 

After nearly a year of being touched by nobody but himself, you got him off so good, he still couldn't move ten minutes later.

"Holy shit," he whispered to his silent living room. You had just given him the best blowjob of his life. His entire life. Bradley had been with his fair share of women, gotten more head than he could keep track of. But you were the best. Hands down, the fucking best he had ever had. 

Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd been with someone, but he tended to believe it was just you. He was so attracted to you, he should have known you would absolutely blow his mind like that. He should have known you would show up Amanda and Grace and Talia and become the only one he was thinking about. 

Then Bradley cradled his face in both of his hands. You had caught him ready to jerk off with your sweatshirt, moaning your name. How fucking embarrassing. And then you'd agreed to do him a favor and get him off. Your words echoed through his mind, "I can help you with that. If you want."

But you were unattainable. Off limits. The babysitter. Noah was so attached to you. When Nat found out, she was going to lose her mind. And probably not in a good way. Because Bradley was a thirty six year old man with a ridiculous crush on a woman twelve years younger than him. 

He forgot to pay you before you left. Oh god, how was he supposed to pay you after you sucked his cock for him? He was starting to feel worse and worse now. 

Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and messaged back the first random woman who was trying to chat with him in the app. He'd set up another date. He'd set up a million more dates if he needed to. If he didn't get you out of his mind, he'd have to find a different babysitter and break Noah's heart. And probably his own as well.

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

You were still giggly the next day. You couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. You'd given him a blowjob. He had been moaning your name! You wanted to do that again. Maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him. Your heart was pounding. 

After several texts from Greyson, you decided to keep ignoring him. You had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, and it didn't help that you knew how big Bradley's dick was and how he tasted. He was bigger and better than Greyson in every way. It wasn't making your day easier envisioning Bradley's eyes practically rolling into the back of his head while you sucked him off, but you indulged in the memories anyway.

The fact that you were masturbating to the thought of him cumming in your mouth when Bradley texted you on Sunday evening should have embarrassed you. But it did not. It made you feel even hotter for him. You really hoped this was him making the next move.

Any chance you're free to come over on Wednesday when you finish your classes?

You bit your lip and squealed, forcing yourself to wait more than five seconds before you texted him back. And when you did, it was with a giddy smile.

I can head over right after class, Daddy. See you on Wednesday.

He didn't end up writing back, but you knew he was busy. So you spent the week avoiding Greyson as much as you could. And when you saw Penny when you were out taking a walk, she waved you down.

"How are things working out with Bradley and Noah?" she asked you with a smile. 

Your mind returned to the velvet feel of his erection gliding over your tongue and the broken, raspy groans of his delicious orgasm.

"Oh, so far so good," you said before pressing your lips together. "Noah is the sweetest child in the world. And Bradley, well. He's actually kind of sweet too."

Penny just laughed and nodded her head. "He really is. When my bartenders found out he's dating again, they both lost their minds. I was thinking about trying to see if he was interested in going out with either of them."

Your heart suddenly felt like it was resting against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Oh. Do they seem like his type?"

Penny laughed harder now. "Bradley's type is female."

Okay, that you did believe. Or rather, you believed any woman who was into guys would be into Bradley. As long as you were cool with Noah, the man was the total package. 

"He only has the most wonderful things to say about you, too," Penny added with a smile. "He said that even though you're so young, he knows he can trust you with Noah. And I don't think he would say that about very many people."

You couldn't decide if that was a compliment or a slight against your age. And when you drove to his house after your final class on Wednesday, you started to feel awkward. Neither of you had mentioned the fact that the last time you were here, you'd had his dick in your mouth. 

"Hi," you called out when you let yourself in, and Noah came running to greet you at the door. You scooped him up in a hug and started to carry him to the kitchen. "Where's your dad?"

Noah just kind of shrugged. "Getting dressed." When you set Noah down at the kitchen table, you immediately noticed a coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter with Princess scrawled across it. 

You picked it up and took one sip of the French vanilla latte, and then you heard Bradley's voice. "Hey. Princess." You spun around with a bright smile on your face, but his expression had you immediately biting your lip and furrowing your brow. He looked confused and irritated and maybe a little sad. None of those expressions were right for his handsome face.

"Hi," you said softly, hoping you could make him smile. "What are your plans for tonight? Going to try to give me a sore throat again?"

His gaze dropped to the floor, and then you really took in what he was wearing. A nice shirt and chinos. He was going out. He hadn't invited you over to see you at all. 

"Um, actually," he muttered, but you cut him off.

"Actually, you're going on another date?" 

"Yeah." He nodded and briefly met your eyes. "Someone from the app."

He only needed to use you to get his rocks off so he could go out with someone else. God, you were so fucking stupid. He didn't want you at all. He probably thought of you as practically a child. And maybe he found you attractive enough to think filthy things about you, and allow you to suck his dick, but that was it. 

"Okay, have a great time," you said, setting the coffee cup down on the counter. You didn't want another sip. 

"Princess," he whispered, reaching out for you. But you managed to sidestep him as you sat down next to Noah and picked up a coloring book. 

"I hope she's as much fun for you as I was on Saturday night," you said, biting down hard on your lip to keep from screaming at him. 

You felt his presence behind you to the point you could almost feel the warmth of his body. But he didn't say anything, he just placed your coffee cup on the table in front of you, spinning it until the writing was facing you. 

"Thanks for the coffee. I hope you find what you're looking for tonight."

You heard him swallow hard, and then he kissed Noah's head, and then he was gone. And you were left to color some dinosaurs with the kid you wanted to spend all your time with. Too bad his dad was sending you so many mixed signals, you felt like crying. 

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

Bradley felt like an asshole the entire time he was with Gabby. She seemed really sweet, but he couldn't stop thinking about what you said to him. As if you weren't what he was looking for. 

In all actuality, you really were not what he was looking for. But you seemed to be exactly what he wanted. But wanting someone and having long term compatibility were two completely different things. 

"So...." Gabby said for the third time. Bradley could barely focus on her or his dinner. "Tell me more about yourself, Bradley."

He started rambling on about work or some shit. He wasn't even really sure. This conversation was painful compared to the way you and he were together. Or at least the way you and he were before he started to fuck everything up between the two of you. The drunk kissing was bad enough, but the blowjob was just the nail in the coffin of the flirting with you that had him absolutely smitten in the first place. 

Now Gabby was saying something about her job, and he couldn't handle it anymore. "Gabby? Sorry, but I think I'm just too distracted for this tonight."

She glared at him across the table. "Yeah, I noticed. I don't care how handsome you are if you're going to be rude. Pull your head out of your ass next time you ask someone out."

"I'm sorry," he muttered as she stood up to leave, and not a minute later, the waiter arrived with both meals. 

He looked at Bradley cautiously. "Can you pack both of those to go? Please?" Bradley asked. He was going to have to leave this guy a hefty tip, but that was fine. 

He had barely been gone for an hour and a half, and that included driving to the far end of the city. When he pulled into his driveway, he grabbed both meals, and made sure he called out from the front door. "I'm back."

You popped around the corner with Noah in your arms, and Bradley's heart leapt. "You're early," you said in surprise. "We're just about to get in bed." Bradley could tell how tired Noah looked, but he could barely take his eyes off you. 

"Do you want to sing with us, daddy?" Noah asked with a yawn, and Bradley was of course drawn to the two of you like his life depended on it. 

"Of course, bub." A minute later, Bradley was watching you tuck his son into bed while you sang a ridiculous song about dinosaurs that sounded made up. But Noah knew all the words too, and you were both laughing. 

"Night, kiddo," you whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Then you slipped past Bradley without another look in his direction. When he gently reached for your hand, you yanked yourself free and kept walking.

Bradley quickly kissed Noah, and then he was following you into the kitchen where you were packing up Noah's art supplies without a word. There was an open bag of Skittles on the table next to some of your textbooks, and Bradley didn't want you packing those things up. They looked like they belonged there. 

He cleared his throat. "I brought dinner back for you. If you want it."

You laughed a little sarcastically. "I'm not eating another woman's leftovers, but thanks anyway, Bradley." You put your books into your tote bag, and Bradley took a step closer to you.

"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed for a beat. He wanted you, and at times like this, he felt like you wanted him, too. "It's not leftovers. My date bailed before the food came out."

Your stomach growled when he opened the takeout containers, and you rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'm starving." He let you pick between the two meals, and you chose the one he had ordered for himself. He didn't care, he'd eat his date's food. He could barely even remember what her name was at this point, because you were plating and microwaving the entrees like you lived here. 

"I'll just eat quickly, and then I'll be out of your hair," you told him, taking a bite of his filet mignon. Bradley settled down into the seat next to you. He wanted more than anything to talk with you, but he didn't know how. Not after what he let you do last time you were here. So he just took a few bites of food and watched you. 

"Your date bailed early? What did you do?" you asked between bites of steak. Bradley watched your eyes flash with mischief. "Does she know what you did to get those free coffees from the barista?"

Bradley chuckled and shook his head. 

"Oh my god, did you insult her after she told the waitress to hold the salad dressing?" you said, biting into your plush, glossy lip. Then your expression clouded a bit. "She didn't say something negative about Noah?"

Bradley scraped the last bite of his food onto his fork and finished eating. "No. Actually I didn't even get to mention Noah. And I have no idea if she ordered a salad. I can't even remember if I had a salad, Princess. I was so distracted all night."

"Why were you distracted?" you asked softly while Bradley took both plates to the sink. 

He reached into the refrigerator and opened a beer, drinking half of it while he decided what he wanted to say to you. You popped a red Skittle followed by two yellow ones into your mouth, and the movement of your jaw took him back to Saturday night. His cock hitting the back of your throat. His hands on your jaw and your face. Those pretty lips wrapped around his balls. 

"Princess," he groaned, and he watched you shove the last few Skittles into your mouth before jumping to your feet.

"Well, I'm going to head out," you said a bit breathlessly. "Oh, and thanks for dinner and for clarifying that these were not sloppy seconds."

Bradley set his beer on the counter and followed you out into his living room, your tote bag swaying along with your ass in your tiny shorts. "Fuck, Princess. Wait. Please?"

"What?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder. 

Bradley reached out and ran his fingers along your cheek inhaling the scent of wildflowers. "My date bailed, because I was awful. I wasn't paying any attention to her. I can barely even remember what she looked like."

You turned to face him. "What was her name?"

He shook his head. "I can't fucking remember. All I can remember is you. Even when I'm not with you. That's why she hightailed it out of the restaurant."

You pressed your lips together, but you didn't back away when Bradley stepped into your personal space. "You've been thinking about me?" you asked in barely a whisper.

"Nonstop, Princess. And you wanna know about sloppy seconds? Anyone else ever gives me a blowjob, and I'll be thinking about you the entire time."

Your lips parted on a soft gasp. "Oh."

He nodded, stroking his thumb across your lips. "Best I ever had. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."

"Bradley," you whispered, pressing yourself against him. He didn't move as you eased yourself up onto your toes and kissed him. You nibbled softly on his lips and sighed, then looked up at him like you felt the same way he did. 

It was so innocent, so fucking sweet. Or it would have been if Bradley wasn't wrapping both hands around your hips and licking the seam of your lips. You parted them immediately for him as your arms came up to wrap around his neck. Bradley tasted your tongue and grunted when he felt your fingers running through his hair.

He broke the kiss and let his hands slide down to palm your ass. "You taste like Skittles. I love Skittles."

You smiled up at him. "Sorry, I didn't save you any." Bradley planted his lips on the side of your neck and listened to you moan and dig your fingers in his hair. 

"I don't deserve any, remember?" he asked, rubbing his mustache below your ear. "I'm a peasant. You're the princess."

You made a soft sound that went right to Bradley's cock as you guided his lips back to yours. "Last time you kissed me, you were drunk," you whispered to him before mashing your lips against his. You were pushing him, walking him back toward the couch, and Bradley couldn't help but go where you wanted him to. 

He sat down a little hard against the cushions, his head tipped back to look up at you. "Yeah. I was kind of drunk. And that was a sin, because my memories are a little fuzzy. And you deserve to be remembered with crystal clarity, Princess."

"Do I?" you asked coyly, standing between his spread legs and clasping your hands in front of you. 

Bradley reached out with his right hand and ran his knuckles up and down your thigh. "Listen, Princess. Your lips wrapped around my cock will fuel my fantasies for years to come, but right now I want my mouth involved as much as possible."

You were instantly climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing your mouth to his again. Bradley welcomed you back into his arms like you belonged there. You peppered some kisses to his lips and mustache before you pulled away from him a little bit with a smile. You were irresistible, and he was grinning right back at you. 

"Okay, go ahead," you told him, gripping his hair and tipping his head away from you. Bradley grunted as your little denim shorts rubbed against his pants creating some friction. "Try to kiss me better than you did after you were out drinking the other night. Because I thought it was pretty great, actually."

He let you tug his hair which was making him throb for you. "What do I get if I win?"

You moaned softly. "The satisfaction of a job well done?"

He shook his head. "Not good enough."

You laughed. "A pat on the back?"

"No," he said, stroking your cheek with his fingers and coaxing your lips closer to his. "I want a fifty percent share of all Skittles consumed in my house."

You gasped so theatrically, he laughed out loud. "That's scandalous. Twenty five percent, or I'm leaving," But you were inching closer and closer to him.

"Deal, Princess," he whispered against your lips, and now he found himself trying to outdo any kisses that came before you. It actually wasn't hard. You'd been his best the last time you were here. Now he wanted to be the best for you. He started off slow now, his fingers teasing along your cheeks and all over your neck. He knew his mustache was prickling along your lip, but you seemed to like it as you were grinding against him a little bit now.

Bradley made sure he was using just the right amount of pressure with his lips, always drawing you back to his kisses. The little sounds at the back of your throat were encouraging, as were your fingers which had dipped inside his shirt at the back of his neck.

He sucked gently on your bottom lip now as his hands found their way to your waist. He nibbled softly on your lip before releasing it, and he was so pleased to see he had kissed off all of your lipgloss. Now your lips just looked extra pouty, and your eyes were needy. 

"How am I doing so far?" he teased, kissing along your chin and your jaw, eventually letting his lips settle on the front of your neck. 

"You must really want those Skittles," you gasped, head tipped back as he worked his mouth against your soft skin. He sucked gently on you there, nearly thrusting against you as you rubbed yourself on him. "Oh!"

And then his hands were a little rougher, squeezing your hips and wrapping around the back of your neck. You leaned into him, clearly not afraid of what his body was demanding as he tasted your tongue and your teeth. He felt your hands on his chest and abs. He could feel your warmth against his cock as you rocked your body into his. He could feel your nipples, hard and rubbing his chest through too much fabric. 

"Princess?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours. 

"Yeah, okay," you said, gasping against his lips, kissing him between sentences. "You win. Twenty five percent of the Skittles. They are yours."

He kissed you, laughing against your lips. "That's really nice and all, baby. But I'd rather taste you right now?"

"Me?" you asked softly, putting a few inches between your mouth and his.

"I want to know if you taste sweet all over, Princess. Will you let me find out?" he asked, stroking his index finger along the zipper of your shorts. He was gauging your reaction to him as you bit your lip and tried to squeeze your thighs together. 

"You want to go down on me?" you whispered, hands gasping along his abs.  

He nodded. "Real fucking bad, Princess."

You licked your swollen lips and whimpered. "Okay, Daddy."

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

Bradley had been so sweet, his brown eyes like something from your dreams. His lips and his hands were all over you, turning you on and making you so wet. But now he wanted to taste you? Find out if you were sweet?

As soon as you called him Daddy again, he had the front of your shorts open, and you were lying on the couch on your back with his big body over yours. 

A moan escaped your lips as soon as he eased his hand inside the front of your underwear and over your clit, and then his mouth was on yours, devouring you. You were making little noises against his lips as he stroked you just the way you liked to touch yourself. It was like he knew how crazy this would make you. And when his other hand ended up inside your shirt, pulling down your bra and stroking your nipples, you groaned his name. 

"You're soaking wet," he said, rubbing his mustache along your jaw in time with his fingers as they worked their way down toward your opening. He teased you like that until you were begging him for more, your fingers tangling wildly in his hair. 

"Please, please," you gasped, and then Bradley was sitting back a bit, his hard dick on display for you through his pants. He yanked your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them to the floor, followed by your lacy, white underwear. 

"Oh, fuck me," he groaned as he looked at you, bare for him from the waist down, except for your socks and sneakers which he left on. 

Then without hesitation, Bradley stroked his hands up the backs of your thighs, spread them wide and brought his mouth down to your pussy. He placed the softest kiss against you there, his mustache making you bite down on your lip in response to the sensation. 

"Bradley," you gasped, feeling your lower back arch off the couch as he ran his tongue from your opening all the way up to your clit in one glorious swipe. 

You should have been embarrassed by the way you were reacting to him. But he just looked up at you with his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before he released you. "You're so sensitive, Princess," he grunted. And then he was running his nose through your wetness and kissing you everywhere. "And you taste so good."

This didn't feel like you expected it to; it felt so much better than that. Bradley's lips and mustache and his fingers and tongue. Everything he did had you gasping, crying out for more. 

"I got you," he promised, spreading your legs wider every time you tried to squeeze them against his head. You were writhing against the couch now, simultaneously trying to pull yourself away from his mouth and also rub your clit against his nose for more. 

"Oh god!" you groaned, loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. But you couldn't stop! Bradley was licking up and down your slit with sure movements and then sucking on your clit until you were practically in tears. Over and over again. Then Bradley was shoving his fingers inside you and kissing your clit before circling it with his thumb.

"You're getting loud, Princess," he whispered, guiding his body over top of yours again. You wrapped your legs around his hips when he kissed you with his wet lips and face. You were licking yourself off his lips when he asked, "You like how you taste? You're so sweet."

You could only whine in agreement as he pushed your shirt up and buried his face against your lace covered breasts. He kissed his way back down your body, and soon you were grinding against his face while he held your thighs. 

"Oh, god, oh!" you gasped when he was licking and sucking again. You closed your eyes tight as your legs started to shake. And then Bradley pumped his fingers into you a little slower and sucked on your clit with a little more pressure, and you felt yourself clenching hard. You rode his fingers with your feet planted on his shoulders, and he looked up at you like he owned you. 

"Daddy!" you cried out, enjoying what was quite obviously the longest and best orgasm of your life. 

"Call me Daddy again," he demanded before sealing his pretty lips around your clit once more and sucking.

"Daddy!" you groaned, pulsing around his fingers. And then everything felt wet. Really wet. And Bradley's face turned to an expression of awe. And his face was wet, too. You sat up and looked down your body to where his fingers were still rammed inside your pussy. But the couch was wet. "What happened?" you asked, but his lips were on yours, and he was pushing you back down again. 

"Princess," he groaned, still moving his fingers gently inside you, and now you were finally coming down fully from the peak of pleasure he had brought to your body. "Christ Almighty, baby. You're the sweetest fucking thing, aren't you?" He kept praising you, his lips all over your face. And when he finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, you helped him lick them clean. 

And then he was gaping down at you, stroking his knuckles along your cheek. "What happened?" you asked softly. You didn't think your body would ever recover fully enough for you to speak louder than this, but you didn't care. Everything felt too good. 

"You squirted for me," he replied, those big brown eyes roaming all over your face before he kissed you. 

Oh. You still felt wet. You had made a mess on his couch. You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you whispered, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Was so hot," Bradley whispered next to your ear. "Princess." His lips on the shell of your ear and his hard cock pressing against your hip made you feel a little bolder. You tried to sit up, but he was huge on top of you.

"Do you want me to get you off?" you asked, reaching down toward him. But Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. 

"No. You've done plenty. You're a Princess, made to be worshipped." You settled back against the couch cushions and let him kiss along your neck until he had his fill.

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

Bradley helped you get dressed. Then he walked you to your car. Then he kissed you goodnight. And then he paid you for watching Noah which made him feel physically sick. You tried to push the money away, but he insisted. Then he went back inside into the bathroom and came hard after stroking himself three times to the thought of your pussy soaking his face. 

He was a mess. A literal fucking mess now. He sat down on the bathroom floor. He had no idea what to do. But then he laughed out loud when he remembered how his night started. He had been on a date with some random faceless woman earlier, but his night had ended with his own face buried in your pussy. 

This was not a good idea. None of this was a good idea. He needed to figure this the fuck out. 

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

Nice work, Bradley. Amazing effort. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

[daceydeath]

Stuck With You

Pairing: Mingi x Reader Word Count: 3.5 Genre: Smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Alcohol Use, Explicit Activities

Why do you always let yourself be dragging into stupid drinking games at parties? It almost always ends badly.

Why you always get sucked into playing stupid party games only to end up getting the worst possible outcome was a mystery to you. Your best friend made out with her crush, you were dared to drink a shot of hot sauce, the girl you hate kissed your crush and you ended up dared to flirt with someone's dad. It wasn’t even just dares. Spin the bottle had you getting rejected by a soccer player and a hockey player and when you answered with truth instead you were asked about why your sister was so hot and you looked like a boy. You hated it but you could never say no if one of your friends begged you to play. Which is how you ended up getting accidentally locked in a bathroom with your crush Mingi, probably the most handsome guy you had ever seen and who had ignored your existence for your entire school life except to ask you for pens if he needed one, you were awesome at party games.

“So uhh…” Mingi finally broke the silence after the doorknob had come off the door leaving you stuck.

“You don’t even remember my name do you?” you sighed, your annoyance growing steadily when you realized that in a house full of drunk people you were unlikely to be rescued quickly.

“Honestly…no I don’t” he admitted looking at the floor for a few moments “Sorry”.

“Don’t be it’s fine” you shrugged your head taking a seat on the closed toilet lid.

“I’m Mingi” he started awkwardly looking everywhere but at you.

“I know Mingi we went to the same high school, I’m in your sociology class” you faked a small smile.

“Shit I feel really bad for not remembering now” he muttered, finally looking at you making you feel a tiny bit of pity for him before introducing yourself.

“I won’t forget this time, I swear” he promised looking genuine.

“So Mingi, do you regularly get locked in small rooms with girls you don’t know?” you tried jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little.

“No it’s usually girls I know and usually there aren’t any locks” he scratched his neck seemingly trying to decide if you were being serious or not.

“Cool, cool. It’s my first time getting locked in a bathroom with anyone” you chuckled softly watching him relax.

“Well it could always be worse” he smiled toothily “we could be in a closet”.

“Have to admit I haven’t been in a closet with anyone either” you admitted grinning.

“You haven’t really lived then” he continued “It’s one of life's greatest joys after all”.

“I will keep that in mind for next time then, thanks for the advice” you played along then fell into silence. Mingi sat himself on the bath mat, the chain on his pants making soft tinkling sounds against the tiles. He was more handsome outside of your school uniform but you had known he would be, he was gorgeous and like the other popular kids he knew it, he had pretty girlfriends all the time and he was so unattainable to you that he felt like he lived in a different world to you.

“Still it’s not the worst dare I have had backfire on me” you broke the silence making him look at you again, raising his eyebrow to continue “I was dared to flirt with Jihoon’s dad once”.

“That was you?” Mingi’s eyes widened slightly “That was legendary. We talked about how funny it was for weeks. That took serious balls”. 

“Umm thank you I guess” you turned away shyly feeling heat creeping up your neck “It was probably the most embarrassing moment of my life”.

“Yeah I guess it would have been” Mingi nodded, looking at you curiously you looked over at the sink to avoid his gaze unsure what he was thinking about while silence once again surrounded you. The only noise now being the thump of the bass coming from the music downstairs and the occasional loud cheer or laugh.

“Can I ask you something? Why do you always dress like that?” he blurted out suddenly, making you look back at him quickly.

“Uhh” you blinked, waiting for your brain to kick in “because I want…to” you replied slowly obviously sounding confused “How am I meant to dress?”. You looked down at yourself unsure what was wrong with your outfit. You were in baggy jeans, an oversized t-shirt and sneakers which you thought was a totally acceptable outfit given that you were at a party not a fancy restaurant.

“I dunno, girls usually wear tight stuff, or skirts and dresses and shit” he blushed slightly pink dusting across his cheekbones as he struggled with his words “Like you dress like a guy, which is cool but why?”

“Oh, I just like it, my sister is the pretty one so I just dress it what makes me comfortable since no one looks at me anyway why bother” you tilted your head thinking hard about how to explain that you didn’t feel the need to bother since no one ever gave a shit what you looked like. At school you wore pants, never skirts and your button up shirts were always loose fitting because they were more comfortable that way because who tried to dress up to go to school. Chewing your lip to distract you from the awkwardness of it all you got your phone out of your pocket to try to get one of your friends to come rescue you before you spent the whole night sitting in silence in a bathroom.

“I think you are pretty” he mumbled quietly, taking an interest in his shoes, fiddling with the laces. Unsure if you heard him correctly you just stared at him with your mouth hanging open for what felt like a full minute before you snapped it shut deciding to ignore what you definitely misheard.

Each friend you tried either didn’t answer your calls and ignored your messages leaving you unsure what to do next, it had only been 15 minutes but it had been awkward enough you didn't want it to go on all night. Mingi seemed to be having the same thoughts as he too tried to get hold of someone to get him out of the situation.

“I’m guessing you would be doing something far more entertaining if you weren’t trapped in here with me” you mused tapping your fingers against your thighs.

“I would probably be drunk” he shrugged, “probably taking shit with my friends or hooking up”.

“Sorry to bring down your night then” you breathed, sadly chewing on your lip again as you tried to figure out what else you could do to get out, the window was out it was both too small and too high off the ground, there was no way you were going to climb out a second story window without ending up hurt.

“Eh? It doesn’t matter. I mean I got to talk to you for the first time” he shrugged, furrowing his eyebrows to come up with a positive sounding answer making the corners of your lips turn up. Getting up from your seat on top of the toilet lid you opened the bathroom cabinet rummaging around to see if you could find anything at all that would give you an idea. You heard Mingi get up his wallet chain jingling as he moved to look over your shoulder into the cabinet.

“What are you looking for?” he questioned as you pulled out cleaners, spare toothbrushes, a hair brush and a box of condoms.

“I thought there might be something in here to help get the door to open” you admitted shyly.

“I don’t reckon condoms and toothbrushes will get us far unless you're trying to hint at something else” he teased watching your ears burn red from his position behind you which made him laugh loudly. 

“Song Mingi” you yelped, covering your face and shoving everything back in the cupboard. You sat on the floor beside the door leaving more space between you and his position on the floor leaning against the glass of the shower alcove, as you listened to his laugh calm down into giggles and then silence. You could feel him looking at you but when you lifted your head to look at him he would turn away pretending he was looking at the door. After another half an hour you were starting to get cold. Sitting in a room full of cold tiles made the temperature in the room drop as the night went on, after your first couple of times rubbing your bare forearms Mingi stood again walking over to you to drape a towel over you.

“I don't think anyone will come for a while. Do you want me to turn the shower on and try to warm the room up?” he offered softly, “it's either that or you come sit on the mat with me it's thick enough to stop your legs getting cold”.

“Oh, um it’s ok I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything” you responded quickly swallowing hard.

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I was uncomfortable. I just don’t want you to get frozen” he shrugged a genuine look of concern crossing his face.

“Alright, I’ll sit next to you” you murmured getting up and wrapping the towel around your shoulders as a makeshift blanket. You sat on the edge of the mat making sure you weren’t actually touching Mingi as he reached up and grabbed the other towels of the towel rack. He draped another one around your shoulders and put one across your lap before pulling you against his side, making you stiffen.

“I can’t help you get warm if you are all the way over there” he rolled his eyes oblivious to the fact that he was him and you were just you, you had no right to assume that he would be willing to hold you close to him to keep you warm. “I swear I won’t bite”.

“Good to know” you mumbled letting him adjust you into his side so you were both comfortable.

“You still aren’t close enough” Mingi announced into the awkwardness of the room “Sit between my legs so your back is against me and we can pile the towels around you”. 

“I’m alright” you assured him, your teeth almost chattering as he looked at you with his eyebrow raised.

“Yeah you really aren’t” he sighed his voice leaving very little room for argument “Just let me help”. You shuffled yourself so you could push yourself up on your knees and let him place you between his thighs with you back against his broad chest after readjusting the towels across your legs he caged you in with his strong legs, his arm draping around your waist to keep you tightly against him.  Returning to his phone. It looked like he had messaged everyone of his friends that were at the party to try to get you out of the bathroom. You had assumed it was so he could get back to having fun but the last message he typed had mentioned you were cold and the joke was over to let you out before you got sick from it. He was being kind and caring what happened to you and it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

After another ten minutes you  were quick to realize that the butterflies in your stomach were not going to calm down and the warmth you could feel creeping up your neck was most likely embarrassment but you were still warmer than you had been and after a while you relaxed back into his hold not even minding when he began fiddling with the fabric that separated his hand from your skin. Mingi put his phone down and let his head fall back against the glass. You initially thought he had fallen asleep but when his other hand crept under the towel to rest against your thigh you realized he wasn’t.

“I’m warm enough if you wanted me to move so you can sleep” you whispered not wanting to ruin the comfortable silence that had fallen between you.

“Nah I can sleep holding you so you don’t get cold again, princess” he mumbled squeezing your waist gently. 

“Mingi, what did you just call me?” you turned your head to look at him expecting to see him half asleep and not aware of what he had just said but instead seeing his dark eyes and crooked smile. Quickly turning your head back so you were once again looking away from him you felt his chest shake in a silent chuckle. His hands were still on your waist, his long fingers slapped across your stomach making your muscles twitch as he moved, you swallowed hard not sure if he was making fun of you or not. The answer to your silent question came quickly in the feeling of his lips brushing lightly against your neck making your body erupt in goosebumps.

“Do you not like princess? Would you like me to call you something else?” His voice deeper than it had been before and his breath fanning across your skin making you gasp.

“How about I call you, baby girl? Or maybe you would rather be called kitten?” he teased making you shuffle in his grip. “Ah, kitten it is then” he smiled against your skin before he pressed a chaste kiss to the column of your neck making you whimper. Your reaction only seemed to encourage him, and he pressed his lips against your neck against only this time with more want lingering behind it.

“Mingi” you exhaled shakily, enjoying his careful touches more than you thought possible were happy to let him move you however he wanted.

“I really didn’t think you would let me touch you, kitten” you smirked, slipping his hands under your shirt to get better access to you, cupping and squeezing your breasts.

“Why not?” you whimpered his thumbs circling your hardened nipples through the fabric of your bra.

“Because you're a little mystery, kitten. No one has had you no matter how much they have tried” he explained nibbling at your neck and sucking light marks into your skin.

“No one has tried” you whined as he let go of you to grip your waist again moving you so you were kneeling in front of him while he shuffled around behind you “What are you doing?”. Mingi laughed at your annoyed tone as he stood and turned the hot water on, allowing it to run down the tiles on the opposite side of the shower.

“I’m keeping you warm kitten” he grinned, sitting back down and pulling you into his lap so that you were now straddling him “Gotta heat the room up if I’m going to get you undressed”.

Your mouth fell open in surprise only for him to take full advantage and kiss you his tongue sliding against yours as you began to reciprocate. His lips soft against yours and the faint taste of beer still lingering from his last drink before you get yourselves stuck. He bunched your shirt up around you letting you know he needed it off which you pulled over your head the moment his lips left yours enjoying the look of appreciation that crossed his features before he dropped his head to kiss your shoulder and undo your bra. 

“Fuck kitten you are so pretty perched in my lap with those perfect tits out just for me” he purred kissing his way across your chest while using his hands to roll you against his hardening dick.

“Ming!i” you gulped softly, feeling like you were already out of breath from the way he was treating you. Pushing his head away from your breasts he pouted until you began pushing his jacket off of his shoulders and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. Stripping himself of them you couldn't help the way your eyes widened as you ran your fingers over his beautiful torso, his broad shoulders and chest making you lips your lips in anticipation. 

As the steam filled the room you quickly stood so you could tug down your jeans leaving you almost bare to him as you clambered back into his lap you couldn’t help yourself now carding your fingers through his hair as he pulled you tightly against his to suck marks onto you, decorating you with marks that only he would know where there. While his lips latched onto another patch of skin he let one hand fall to your hips, squeezing the flesh there, his fingers so long that his thumb brushed dangerously close to your core making you buck your hips in search of friction.

“Can I touch you there kitten? You gonna let me make you mine?” he purred sexily making you nod feverishly. Slowly he moved his hand so his fingers could brush against your covered heat, feeling the moisture that had already collected in the fabric making him groan deep in his throat. “Fuck so wet”.

Dipping his fingers inside the fabric he leisurely slipped his fingers between your folds collecting your juices on his fingers before pulling them away and sucking his fingers clean, if you hadn’t already been dripping for him you were sure that would have made you wetter than you had ever been. Slipping his fingers back into your underwear he began rubbing your clit with his thumb while gently pushing one of his perfect fingers inside you you clenched around it making him lean forward and capture your lips again kissing you deeply while he pushed a second finger into you rubbing your walls carefully until he found that spongy spot inside you he was looking for. Letting out a soft keen into his mouth he continued pumping his fingers into you his other hand helping you to fuck his hand as he worked you towards your high.

“Ah… Mingi… Ngh” you panted harder as his fingers sped up each time they pumped into you you could feel more of your arousal dripping out of you onto his hand.

“That’s it kitten, come for me” he sighed his mouth swallowing your cries as you came hard your walls clenching around his fingers as he worked you through your orgasm. 

“You are so hot” he groaned, pulling his fingers from you and once again licking them clean “and you taste so good too”. 

“Mingi, I want more” you pouted, head still fuzzy and eyes still glazed over from how hard you had just come you began desperately trying to get his belt undone.

“Don’t worry kitten I’m going to fuck you” he growled helping you to get his belt off and jeans undone so you could pull his cock from his pants, your hand pumping his impressive length while he fished a condom from his pocket rolling it on himself before letting you line your entrance up and gradually sink down it. “Fuck so tight”.

“Too big” you whined, feeling like he was stretching you to the point of splitting you in half while your eyes rolled back in your head. 

“Let me kitten” Mingi ground out his voice strained from how desperately your walls were sucking him further into you. He rolled his hips carefully at first to help you adjust before thrusting up into you at an unrelenting pace, bouncing you in his lap with the force of his hips. 

“Such a good kitten letting me use her like this” he groaned, continuing to piston into you. You couldn't do anything but hold on your nails leaving red marks down his chest as you clawed at him babbling his name between moans and curses your pleasure building faster than you could believe as his cockhead hit your g spot again and agin.

“Mingi.. gonna… gon… come” you mewled, feeling the coil inside you snap and white hot pleasure fill your veins and your walls began to flutter around him. Mingi moaned loudly, spilling his load into the condom while your walls milked him dry. You collapsed against his bare chest, the steam from the shower making you both sticky with sweat. 

“You’re mine now” he sighed into your hair, swallowing hard “my kitten, my girl”.

“As long as you’re mine too” you mumbled wincing as he pulled his softening cock from you.

“How about I take you out tomorrow?” he smiled genuinely, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against him.

“I’d like that” you smiled back foolishly pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

A/N: Thank you for reading my loves as always your likes, reblogs and comments give me life and encouragement to continue sharing the things that pop into my head xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[porcelainseashore]

They Don't Make Them Like Her Anymore - VTM Bloodlines 20th Anniversary

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: I wrote this to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines and for a Gallery Noir server event by @vampemoqueen and @bigswordenergy.

Step into the shoes of our favorite sick freak, Vandal Cleaver, as he ruminates on the recent happenings in his life. Pliers and blowtorch included. Terms and conditions apply.

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, self-harm, body horror, mild gore, mild sexual content, obsessive behavior, blood bond, Hannah Glazer and Therese Voerman mentions, murder.

Hannah, Hannah… oh, Hannah. They don’t make them like her anymore, do they? It was sad actually—tragic—well no more tragic than another dead hooker found in a soulless apartment Downtown. Nothing that would make the headlines, not even worthy of a back page obituary in the local paper. Heh, I may be a sap for saying this, but she was good enough for me.

You see, they don’t make them like her anymore. No shit. The new girl? She can’t quite do the job like Hannah did, but since when were beggars choosers? Yeah, I know my place in the pecking order. At least she has the stomach for what I request of her. Doesn’t outright scream, “You fucking freak!” in my face, leaving me high and dry. I need my fix afterall, like the rest of you… Hiding dirty little secrets to dig out between your sorry sack of bones with a scalpel—do you know what a skilled hand can do with a scalpel? Have you ever run your finger across the edge of a blade? Any blade—come on, don’t lie to me now, we’re friends, aren’t we? Everyone’s done it once in their life, lost their innocence as blood blooms from the vulvic slit like a bouquet of roses. Sometimes it gushes like a torrent, depending on how deep you sliced. Shh, it’s okay to get carried away. Your secret’s safe with me.

Anyway, she does as I ask, like a good enough girl, then pukes her guts out—politely—in the bathroom next door. I know, because I hear it. Her chest concave and hollowed, heaving, organ crushing against organ as she squeezes her lungs, gagging on saliva and air. They don’t make them like her anymore, you get what I’m saying?

Earlier, I watched as the flimsy fabric of my skin peeled away, acid pink flesh melting from bone, and the charred layers curling under the blue flame like burning plastic. What remains blisters and festers. I’ve done it so many times I think all that can be salvaged from me are deadened nerves and an empty husk. I like being empty though. Sprawled out on the floor, naked and clean as a newborn while the world around me spins in circles. For a moment, everything feels attainable and unattainable. 

My queen… queen of all queens—

And just like that, it’s gone. I’m left with the chick who has a blowtorch in one hand and her nose in the other, pinching it as though the fumes are toxic. Her hands are always trembling, like an addle-brained patient, maybe because I don’t know whether I’m laughing or screaming half of the time.

My body is already mending at twice the speed when she brings out the pliers. I am a god and a shitty mistake all in one—not quite like the bitch goddess who owns me, but almost. Give it another hundred years, and I’ll be standing in this exact room, cutting myself open with my bare hands, alive and kicking to see the process. Imagine tucking my fingers under the sagging flaps, flaying skin from tissue as I pull it apart. Wet, stinking clumps of flesh and its sinewy tendons will stick between my nails, overstaying their welcome, yet impossible to scrub out. And that smell—mmm, that smell! A putrid, cloying tang of filthy pennies, assaulting my senses like a hammer to the head. I want to untangle my entrails like the wires in my brain that got crossed somewhere, just to check and see if they’re the same as everyone else.

Oh, so the new girl needs a bit of encouragement, does she? Lingering there slack-jawed and taking her sweet time. The missus—no, I mean, Hannah never needed to be told twice. Deep down, I think she even enjoyed it, the sick fuck. They don’t make them like her—

“Do it,” I hiss, saliva drooling from my lips like a rabid dog.

I hear bones snapping before the pain hits me, rattling my teeth as an excruciating jolt shoots up my arm. For a split second, I’m blinded by a searing white light. My thumb is dangling at an awkward angle and I must be howling, because the look on that girl’s face… well, what wouldn’t I give to have a picture as a keepsake? Frame it up on the wall like a goddamn Picasso.

Sometimes I feel the hairy legs of spiders skittering around my skull. It tickles like the high strings of a violin being plucked—faintly, daintily, as if it were never there. Sometimes I say things, but my words aren’t my own. And it’s happening right now. The girl before me is no longer a girl, but the queen bitch herself.

“Therese,” I weep and moan. It’s lewd and urgent like a fever prayer falling from my lips. I swear I could cum from her name alone, and I hate myself for it.

“What did you just call me?”

Therese in body and blood, spirit and flesh. Therese in all her unbearable glory. The cold metal clamps down on my trigger finger and her grin is so wicked I can only grovel and lick the dirt off her boots. She’s inside of me. When I hurt myself, she hurts too, and I enjoy it.

“Yes, please! Oh, mistress, oh fuck—”

My eyes shut as I throw my head back, mouth in the shape of an “O” that’s simply ridiculous. I try not to imagine how it looks like one of those snuff tape suckers in post-coital, or should I say, post-feast bliss. Disgusting and vile. I remember mocking them with Phil as I forced him to watch every single Death Mask film in that dingy basement of the Santa Monica Clinic.

When I come to, my balls are no longer heavy and aching, like an oppressive, shameful need. Semen trickles down my leg, pooling in my pants as though I wet myself. It smells of rotting fish and I’m trying not to cry. I wish it were the Nectar of the Gods instead.

A flash of anger rears up in my chest and I tear my eyes open. Therese—no, the new girl lies like a crumpled doll on the floor, mouth agape in that stupid “O.” Good enough like a pair of single-use gloves to dispose of in the trash without a second thought. Except, I used mine again and again. What’s the point if they break apart so easily? They don’t make them—

I yank her face towards me. The whites of her eyes loll back as I squash the fat of her cheeks within my bloodied hand, and her lips mime a fish sucking in breath.

“Tell me I’m good enough! Say it!” something that sounds more akin to a pig squealing explodes like a burst tap.

The stumps of my fingers move her mouth like a ventriloquist, but she says nothing. Blood smears across her dull skin. She doesn’t wake up. That can only mean one thing: useless. They don’t—

I let her body fall to the ground with a thud. Whipping a phone out from my back pocket, what’s left of my fingers fly over the keypad, punching in a line I’ve rehearsed a thousand times.

“A special order for the mistress.”

Tears cloud my eyes as I hear my quivering breath. It’s shallow and erratic. I still can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying half of the time.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[joydoesathing]

After a (lot) of scrolling i found out that u didnt give us a hc post abt the fiancés ;-; (u told us how they met but never any hc on them) so could u possibly give us some hc for them??? :3

i kind of intentionally stalled on my hcs for them since these two are integral to the whole underlying doppel and ddd plot in my eyes

but nonetheless here's the hcs:

Michael

A charismatic man with a friendly and laid-back personality

He is highly intelligent much like his fiancee, but masks it with a humble demeanor

With that said, a lot of his female students and colleagues have a secret , not so secret, crush on him. He does acknowledge this and then respectfully brushes it off

Though some of his closer friends and colleagues do describe that he has "playful and good-willed yet slightly sadistic tendencies" (lil' gremlin energy)

But when it comes down to things he truly cares about , he shows his repressed nature in order to defend them : a cold and unfeeling person who follows the beat of his own drum, no matter how deranged his actions are or may seem

He is aware about his fiancee's role in the Trojan Horse Project but puts his trust in her that she knows what to do next, so he chooses keeps quiet and turns a blind eye for now.

He is aware that if it were to be literally anyone else that isn't already involved of the whole project who figures out his fiancee's role in the whole crisis, they would absolutely condemn her and even be out for her neck . And the people who would excuse her role now are probably ready to throw her under the bus if worst comes to worst.

So he chooses to be there for her, every step of the bloody way, constantly assuring her that his hope for her will never waver.

He deeply despises Keppler and those who blindly follow her every whim and command.

Dr. W

A reserved woman who's not much of a people person

She is known to be a highly intelligent individual, however she can come off as quite standoffish and arrogant because she can be quite critical and is the type to sometimes give unsolicited advice.

She is particularly passionate about science and mathematics and planned to pursue a career in the scientific discovery and research fields since she was a student, however it proved as difficult challenge and an almost unattainable dream due to some strong social biases at the time.

But thankfully, she was able to pursue that dream thanks to Keppler, who volunteered to sponsor her until she attained her doctorate degree. At the time, she was pretty much Keppler's lapdog, as she saw Keppler as the only one who truly believed in her potential as Keppler herself even assigned her as the lead researcher of the upcoming Trojan Horse project.

She would later find herself deeply regretting for ever feeling that way. She slowly came to realize the atrocities and lengths that her director was willing to make for the sake of the success of the project.

She felt guilty for the blood that has been spilt in the name of the project. She felt guilty for have once willingly turned a blind eye to the obvious red flags. She came to be very disappointed at herself for being blinded her admiration and respect for that woman.

Her current course of action is to continue to work under her, but also find her own way how to eventually stop Keppler in secret.

[anarcoqueer1994]

Never Have I Ever (Steddie Ficlet)

The older teens—Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Eddie,-- had been hanging out drinking at Steve’s house. No one can remember whose idea it was, but they ended up playing “Never Have I Ever” with who ever being the one who has done it having to take a drink. It was fun, mostly dumb ones, like “Never have I ever been out of Indiana (excluding the Upside-Down) or “Never have I ever smoked weed.” It was one of Robin’s though, that nearly gave Eddie a heart attack.

She looked around the table, smirking, half tipsy. “Never have I ever slept with a guy.” She laughed. Eddie thought nothing of it. He figured she used this one to get as many people at the table to drink as possible. Eddie wasn’t surprised when Jonathan, Argyle (they are dating now, he thinks), and Nancy take a drink with him. What nearly causes him to choke on his own beer is seeing Steve also pick up his glass and take a sip.

His shock causes him to cough up his drink, and though his reaction may have been the most dramatic, but other than Robin, everyone else looked confused too. Steve was oblivious to the looks around the table though, only drunkenly turning to Robin saying “That’s not fair, dude. You knew you would be the only one not to drink.” He playfully complains. 

Eddie clears his throat, being the one to ask the question everyone was wondering. “Harrington, you slept with a guy?”

Steve looks around, first confused with the reaction, slowly realizing that everyone was looking at him. They weren’t judgmental, of course, just surprised. He looks awkwardly at Robin who just shrugs her shoulders, before he says. “Oops I guess I forgot to tell you guys. Kind of figured you all knew since we are all…you know…queer. “

Robin laughs at the absurdness of his statement. “Aww Steve, they thought you were our token straight.” She sticks out her tongue.

Eddie doesn’t know why but he kind of feels…jealous. When he thought Steve was straight, it was easy for him to just accept that Steve in unattainable, that he doesn’t like guys. But knowing he does…changes things. Steve was into dudes, and he is a dude. But now he feels like Steve is unattainable in a new way…he is out of his league. Steve can’t want Eddie, no matter how big of a stupid crush he has on him. That hurt more. He can’t explain why he said what he said next, maybe he is a masochist. But his mouth works faster than his brain. “Who?”

“What?” Steve scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. Eddie hates that this makes him more attractive.

He wishes he could pull the word back in, he wishes it would have stayed trapped against his teeth, but it didn’t so he has to go with it. “Um…I mean who was the lucky guy that slept with King Steve?” He tries play it off as a joke, like he’s teasing but honestly part of him wants to know what Steve’s type is.

“Oh, um a few guys, I guess. The first one was Tommy. Before Nance and I dated, I used to hook up with Tommy and Carol sometimes. Most of the time it was the three of us, but I have been with both of them separately.” Steve goes red, realizing all the attention is on him now.

“You were like a …throuple with Tommy and Carol?” Nancy asks in disbelief.

“No, nothing like that!  What we did was just for fun. Those two were their own thing. “ He put his increasingly flushed face in his hands before continuing. “Let’s…uh move on from this embarrassing can of worms Robin has opened.

Everyone nods, but Eddie’s big mouth strikes again. “You said there was a few…”

“Eds, you really wanna know all the guys I slept with?” Steve raises his eyebrow, embarrassment going to amusement. He shoots Eddie a smirk before adding. “Why? You wanna be on that list?” He winks.

Shit. Eddie was too pushy. He doesn’t need to know. His face turns red. “Uh no. I’m sorry, I’m just being nosy. I’m sorry.” He repeats without his usual confidence. He continues to ramble apologies.

“Eddie…” Steve interrupts. “I’m just messing with you, man. It’s fine. I don’t have secrets with you guys. There were a few random hooks ups from the gay bar Robin, and I go to in Indianapolis, and um my senior year, I hooked up with one of the guys one the swim team. See no big secrets.” He laughs.

The tension Eddie was feeling dissipates with the sound of Steve’s laugh. Steve doesn’t care…Eddie is reading too much into this. “No big secrets.” He parrots back. And with that, they were back to the game, no one bringing up Steve’s “come out,” No mention of Eddie’s weird reaction, nothing that should make him nervous. But part of him swears he notices Steve staring him down more as the night goes on.

They end up all watching a movie, everyone passing out in the living room, half tipsy, and just feeling safe. Robin and Nancy are cuddled together on the couch while Jonathan and Argyle are tangled together on the love seat. Eddie had been on the chair and Steve was on the third cushion of the couch. They had been the only two still awake, neither very comfortable where they are. When the movie comes to an end, Steve whispers, “Eds…come on man. Let’s go upstairs.”

“up..stairs?” Eddie stutters out like some pathetic 13-year-old kid with a first crush. But he couldn’t help it. Was Steve asking his to go to bed with him? Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe Steve was flirting with him earlier. Maybe he was staring.  

Eddie watches as Steve stands up, walks closer and holds out his hand, Eddie instinctively responds, taking the other man’s hand, letting him pull him up. “Yea, upstairs. That chair is not comfortable.”

“No, its not.” Eddie agrees as they head for the steps, still hand in hand. When they get to the top of the stairs though, Steve lets go. He starts leading Eddie to the opposite end of the hallway from his bedroom. When they stop in front of the door at the end, Eddie understands. He feels his heart drop as Steve opens the door to the guest room. “Finally have an excuse to use this thing.” He softly laughs, before turning away, saying over his shoulder “Night, Eds. Let me know if you need anything.”

All Eddie can do is nod lamely, as he steps into his room for the night. He closes the door before collapsing on the bed. His brain is on an emotional roller coaster. He feels stupid thinking that Steve Harrington, queer or not, would be into him. Before he can spiral into self-deprivation, he is pulled back to reality by a knock on the door.

When he opens it, there is Steve Harrington, now clad only in the tiny red shorts he sleeps in. It takes every thing in him to keep his brain from short circuiting. “Steve? What’s up?” He hopes he sounds casual.

“Eddie, why did you react that way earlier when you found out I like guys?” Steve cuts to the chase.

“I..I told you man, just surprised.” He tells a half lie.

“I know, I know. You said that but why did you want to know who?” Steve continues, gears obvious turning in his, trying make the connections he thinks he sees.

“I don’t know.” Eddie looks down at his own feet. Looking at Steve feels dangerous right now, Like Steve could see right through him.”

“Eds? You don’t know?” Steve asks skeptically.

“Yea I don’t know. I just asked. Making conversation, man” Eddie deflects, still looking down.

“I don’t believe you.” Steve says back plainly. Eddie was about to protest, insist Steve was wrong. But before he can, he feels a gentle hand under his chin, pushing his head upwards, so Steve can meet his eyes. He’s frozen as Steve smirks whispering, “I think you wanted to be on that list too.”

Eddie can feel his cheeks going red. Without thinking he replies, “I want to be the end of that list.” As soon as the words leave him mouth, he wishes he could pull them back in. “Oh god, I am so sorry. I don’t expect you to just settle with me or anything. I’m sure you have better.’

“No Eddie. I wouldn’t be settling.” He lets out a sign. “ I should have phrased this better. Eddie, I want you. And not just for sex. Like don’t get me wrong, that’s part of it. You’re so fucking hot. But you are so funny and smart and dorky and such a good friend. I’ve been into you for so long. So um, what do you think?” All confidence and charismatic attitude is gone.

“You like me?” Eddie sputters out.

“Oh my god! Yes, Eds. I do. I like you. Honestly, I think I love you and I don’t know how else to spell it out to you. I just don’t get it, Eds? What more…” Steve is cut off by the soft lips pressed again his. It takes him a moment to realize Eddie is kissing him but when he does, he finds himself kissing back. His hands tangle in Eddie’s hair while Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist.

When they finally pull apart, Eddie asks “So you wanna add me to that list?

“Yea, I do. Eventually. But for tonight I just want to cuddle with me…boyfriend?” He asks, worried he jumped the gun.

“Yea…I want to cuddle with my boyfriend, too.” He smiles, pulling Steve into the guestroom, closing the door behind them.

[princesskenny1998]

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Muggleborn!reader ~ Unobtainable, PT. 2

Hogwarts was a world of secrets and glances, hidden corners and whispered words. For you, that secret world had always revolved around one person: Draco Malfoy. It was silly, really, and you knew it. A Hufflepuff, a muggleborn, hopelessly in love with someone as unattainable as Draco—pure-blooded, polished, and most definitely out of reach. Yet no matter how many times you told yourself to stop being ridiculous, that foolish hope continued to stir in your chest every time you caught sight of him. And sometimes—just sometimes—you wondered if there might be a glimmer of a chance.

You had confessed everything to Megan Jones, your best friend, one rainy afternoon in the Hufflepuff common room, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you explained your secret feelings for Draco.

“Draco Malfoy?” she’d asked incredulously, her voice low and eyes wide. “Are you sure you haven’t taken a Bludger to the head recently?”

You’d laughed, even though it hurt a little to see how impossible your crush seemed to her. “I know, it’s stupid,” you’d said. “But he’s... different.”

“Different?” she echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “Y/N, he’s the most arrogant Slytherin in the school. You really think he’s paying attention to a Hufflepuff, a muggleborn one?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, frustration coloring your words. “But sometimes... sometimes it feels like he is.”

And it did. There were moments that you couldn’t quite explain, fleeting as they were, that made you wonder if maybe Draco noticed you too. Like in the Great Hall—every so often, you’d look up from a meal to find his eyes on you from the Slytherin table, his gaze intense and unreadable. He never looked away quickly, never tried to hide it, but there was always something in his expression that made your heart flutter, like he was studying you for a secret only he understood.

Then there were the times in the library. Draco had always been a fixture in the corners of the library, sitting at the tables closest to the Restricted Section with his nose buried in thick, dusty tomes. Lately, though, he’d begun sitting closer to you—never at the same table, but often the one right next to yours, even if the library was practically empty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was deliberately choosing to be near you, like he didn’t mind your presence, like he wanted you to notice him.

Megan was always skeptical, always ready to pull you back down to earth. “He’s probably just looking past you,” she’d said one afternoon as the two of you left the library together, your voice brimming with the excitement of another accidental encounter with Draco.

“But Megan, he sits near me all the time!” you insisted, knowing you probably sounded desperate. “He could pick any table, and he always chooses the one next to mine.”

She had just given you a sympathetic smile, squeezing your arm. “I know you want it to mean something, Y/N, but maybe he just likes that spot. Don’t get your hopes up too much.”

But your hopes never stayed down for long. They bubbled up again with every shared glance, every moment you caught him lingering on you with that curious expression. You started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely invisible to him after all.

One chilly November evening, the library was nearly empty, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional turning of pages and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You were alone at a corner table, a heavy herbology book open in front of you as you attempted to focus on your reading. The delicate diagrams of magical plants swam before your tired eyes, and you were struggling to remember the differences between Dittany and Wolfsbane when someone pulled out the chair at the table next to yours.

You glanced up, and your heart did a little flip. Draco Malfoy was there, his usual Slytherin swagger softened by the dim, warm light. He didn’t say anything as he settled down, but his gaze flicked briefly to you before he pulled a book from his bag, the motion slow and almost deliberate.

You tried to focus on your own book, but it was impossible. Your eyes kept straying to Draco, who was reading with an unusual intensity, his blonde hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, almost vulnerable. The silence stretched, and you felt the air shift between you, charged with an unspoken tension that you couldn’t quite name.

When you finally forced yourself to look back down at the page in front of you, you felt strangely self-conscious, like you were under a spotlight. You bit your lip, brow furrowing as you tried to concentrate, only to jump slightly when a voice, soft and almost playful, broke the quiet.

“You look cute when you’re trying to concentrating like that.”

You froze, your eyes snapping up to meet Draco’s. He was watching you with a smile—a real smile, not the smirk he usually wore, but something softer, almost gentle. It took you a moment to process what he’d said, and when you did, a blush crept up your cheeks.

“W-What?” you stammered, completely caught off guard.

He didn’t answer, just continued to look at you for another long moment, the smile lingering on his lips. Then, without another word, he stood up, slipped his book back into his bag, and left the library, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence, your heart racing and your mind spinning.

The next morning, you told Megan everything, barely able to contain your excitement. You’d been waiting for her in the Hufflepuff common room, practically bouncing with energy, and as soon as she sat down, you launched into the story.

“He called me cute,” you said breathlessly. “He actually said I looked cute!”

Megan’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she didn’t look skeptical. She looked shocked. “Malfoy? Draco Malfoy said that to you?”

“Yes!” you said, grinning so wide your cheeks ached. “I didn’t imagine it. He actually smiled at me—like, really smiled.”

Megan was silent for a moment, clearly processing this new development. “Okay,” she said slowly, “maybe... maybe he does notice you. But what does it mean? I mean, he’s still Draco Malfoy.”

“I don’t know what it means,” you admitted, “but it has to mean something, right? He wouldn’t just say that for no reason.”

Megan gave you a long, considering look, and then she smiled, a hint of warmth in her eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “Maybe there is a chance.”

The days that followed were a blur of hopeful anticipation. Every time you walked into the Great Hall, you searched for Draco’s face, and sometimes, you found him already looking your way. His gaze wasn’t cold or detached like it had been in the past; there was a softness there now, something almost tender that made your heart skip a beat. He never approached you, never crossed the space between your tables, but the glances were enough to keep your hope alive.

One afternoon, you were walking back to the common room when you saw him standing by a window, staring out at the rain that had begun to fall in a gentle drizzle. He looked lost in thought, and for a moment, you considered going over to him, saying something—anything—to acknowledge whatever strange connection had formed between you. But the words stuck in your throat, and before you could summon the courage, he turned and walked away, his expression distant once more.

Megan, who had seen the whole thing from further down the corridor, caught up to you, nudging your shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something?” she asked, her tone gentle.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I just... I’m scared, I guess. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m just imagining all of this?”

“You’re not,” Megan said firmly, squeezing your hand. “I saw the way he looked at you, Y/N. He’s not indifferent, whatever else he might be.”

It was nearing Christmas when the next real sign came, a little over a month since that strange, unforgettable encounter in the library. The castle was quiet, with many students already gone for the holidays, and you were once again buried in the herbology section, trying to finish an essay before term ended. You’d gotten up to grab another book, scanning the shelves when a familiar voice startled you.

“Still working on that essay?”

You turned, and there he was—Draco, leaning casually against the end of the bookshelf, his posture relaxed in a way you’d never seen before. His eyes were bright, almost playful, and that soft smile—the one you’d come to treasure—was back.

“Yes,” you said, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “I’m almost done, though.”

“Good,” he said, taking a step closer. “You work too hard, you know.”

The comment was so unexpected, so... normal, that you didn’t know how to respond. You just stood there, staring up at him as he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture so intimate it made your breath hitch.

“Keep being yourself, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re... different from everyone else.”

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there in the quiet library, your heart racing and a strange, wonderful warmth spreading through your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, there really was a chance after all.

@unicornqueen05