#the final keyboard bar

[facts-i-just-made-up]

what's space like

About five times longer than the other keys.

[coconutcoconutcoconut]

i cannot BELIEVE i made it this long with such a cramped computer setup (prolly part of why i was finding it hard to draw) but having a normal sized one feels luxurious now as a result

[benevolentbones]

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

[mickandmusings]

no caller id

pairing: javi rivera x f!reader, tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: she had been there alongside javi the day that their three best friends' lives had been taken. when kate took off to new york and javi to wherever the military took him, she felt mostly alone back in oklahoma. until a handsome chaser blew through town with an ef-3 and stole her heart. things were going great, she was finally happy. until that all too familiar contact flashes across her phone at 3am.

or

two times javi fell asleep in her sheets, only for her to wake up alone, and the one time she finally realized she would never wake up alone again.

warnings: angsty, mega angsty; no use of y/n; mentions of death and grief; grief is really a big theme here; reader is described wearing a dress; no detailed smut but it's implied

*based on megan moroney’s ‘no caller id’

-

Two months.

It had taken Javi two months after the accident to call her. Two months after she found out alongside him her three closest friends had died. Two months after attending three funerals in the span of one week. Two months since she decided to start therapy for the grief and survivors guilt. Two months since she had heard anything about his life.

She didn't blame him, not really, none of the three of them that had survived seemed to talk to one another. She had called Kate a month beforehand, but she hadn't responded. Her texts were opened but never responded to. Kate had arguably taken it harder than her or Javi, so she didn't bother her. Javi, however, him ignoring her burned like fire.

Before it all went to shambles, they had a sort of more-than-friends relationship. She piled into the passenger side of his van on nearly every chase, helped him man the data collection, helped him take care of Dorothy every time she began to fall apart. She sat at the dinner table of his small apartment to help him with his research on his findings, and knew his gas station order by heart. They danced around his kitchen to his dance playlist, and he made her laugh harder than anyone. Addy had always joked that Javi had feelings for her, but she'd been so blind to his advances that she'd never even realized.

But tonight, two months after all of it, his name had flashed across her phone screen, the same corny heart behind it that she'd never deleted since he first put his number in her phone.

Javi <3: You in town?

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Javi had skipped town after everything, Kate following behind him. She had been the only one left in their small town in Oklahoma. She picks up the device and her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a while before she responds:

Yeah. You too?

She sets the phone down, thinking he wouldn't respond for a while. Javi had always been a notoriously bad texter. But only a minute later it vibrates with a new message.

Javi <3: For tonight. Meet me at The Shack in an hour?

The Shack was a local bar, only ten minutes from her house. Her heart hammers, why was he in town for only the night? And more importantly, why did he want to see her after months of not bothering to check on her? Her fingers hover over the 'send' button, the simple word typed up: 'busy.' She wanted to be angry, to resent him for not bothering to call, but her heart softens, and she deleted the message. Instead, she sends a thumbs up emoji and tosses her phone back on the couch. Despite her excitement, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was a bad idea.

As she walks into the tiny but crowded bar, she tries to spot Javi, but she can't find his curls draping over his shoulders, or pulled into a bun behind his head. She almost gives up until she hears his voice.

"I'm right here."

She turns, and, sure enough, sitting in a booth in the corner sits Javi.

He looks...different.

He'd chopped his curls into a short, neat cut, and he looked somehow heavier behind his usually playful eyes. Long gone was the boy she knew-the one who had an affinity for loud music and taking naps wherever there was flat ground. He had been replaced by someone that certainly looked like him, but didn't have that same spark.

"Hey."

He stands and gives her a small hug, his smile not exactly reaching his eyes. She returns the gesture, settling into the booth across from him as they fall into light conversation over drinks. They catch up after the past two months, all while avoiding the topic that lingers like heavy smoke between them. Her lungs burn just thinking about what Praveen would have said if he saw them now. She finally gathers the courage to broach a relatively sore subject:

"So, what brings you back into town?"

His eyes dart down to his lap, his shoulders slouching.

"Uh, it's my last night home for a while."

She nods, understanding the need to get out of here, the ghosts of their past certainly had begun to haunt.

"Where are you headed?"

"Uh, Iraq."

Her eyes widen as she almost chokes on her drink.

"Very funny, Javi."

"Not joking."

His serious expression shows he isn't. Her heart hammers, what had she missed in two months?

"Javi, what the hell are you doing in Iraq?"

"Don't really know, I just go where they tell me to. Not my job to argue with Uncle Sam."

Her eyes widen further. No way in hell would she ever have seen that coming.

"Y-You joined the military?"

He nods, throwing back the rest of his drink.

"Didn't chop off a head of perfectly good hair for the fun of it."

For a split second, she felt disheartened, everyone was leaving, moving on, while she was here, stuck in the same small town. After another drink, and another, they fall into easy conversation. And by the time she's three drinks deep, he almost feels like the Javi she remembered.

That night is the first night she lets Javi into her bed, only to wake up naked and alone.

But it wouldn't be the last.

-

The second time it happened, she didn't even blame him, it had been hard on both of them. Kate hadn't bothered to come back home, and she didn't blame her, because as she looks around at the framed pictures of her now-deceased friends, she thinks she might explode.

It's Christmas Eve, nearly two years later, and she's sitting on Jeb's mother's couch as the older woman dotes on she and Javi both. Her sweater itches around her collar, and she's sweating, but she figures it has little to do with the heat of the fireplace and more to do with the lingering awkward flames between she and the military-uniform clad man beside her. Her hands grasp a cup of eggnog, but even the rum in it could not soothe the ache burning in her chest.

Javi hadn't even bothered to contact her after their night together. In fact, he'd done more to ignore her completely. Her occasional texts had gone ignored, he had read her message on his birthday, but never acknowledged it, and she was sure he hadn't even read her concerned affections she'd sent on the anniversary of the accident. She'd been so worried about him, and he couldn't have cared less about her.

She puts on a good act, because Jeb's mom doesn't deserve her coldness. The woman was kind, and loved she and Javi as her own. Days like today were hard for all three of them, but the grief combined with the anger she feels at Javi, all she wants to do is run from the warm and inviting living room she's sitting in. After a few hours of talking and gift giving, she finally meets the cold winter air and feels so relieved that tears prick behind her eyes. She takes a deep breath as she clutches the boxed gift in her hand, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Javi stands only a few feet behind her, watching everything. His voice cuts the silence that had seemed so permanent between them:

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

She scoffs.

"Javier, you wouldn't answer me when I told you happy birthday, much less now."

His full name tumbling from her lips stings more than it should. He lets it sting, he deserves it, he'd been an asshole.

"You're right, I-I fucked up. I know. But you're standing in front of me, and you're hurting, and I'm the only one here that knows the way your chest hurts. Kate, she-she just pushes through and ignores it. You and me, we're not built like that."

She knows Javi is right, but she would never admit that, not to his face. Silence falls over them again before she finds the courage to turn around and look at him. He's less Javi and more Lieutenant Rivera these days, his eyes hardened and his tone gruff. She can hardly see the reminiscent parts of the boy she'd spent four springs in a van with. Grief and the regular hardship of life had made them different people, but she still loved him, despite it all.

"I've got to visit Addy's mom, and Praveen's parents after this. You comin'?"

Maybe she was angry with the way Javi had treated her, but her friends' parents were expecting them both, and he had been truthful-they were the only two who understood the specific pain of losing your three closest friends in death, and the other while she was still living. Her response comes out witty, almost like the girl she used to be.

"As long as you're driving."

That night, after they'd split a bottle of red in her living room, they fall back into their usual ritual when he came to town: her writhing in pleasure underneath him. The next day, Christmas morning, the only evidence that Javi had been there was his empty wine glass on her coffee table.

She swore to herself that it would never happen again. As she washed her delicate glasses in the sink, she repeats her vow. When she finishes, she dries her hands, grabs her phone and clicks on his contact. She can't find the heart to block him, just in case he really needs her, but she changes his name in the hopes she'll ignore his calls. 'Javi <3' no longer resided in her phone, only a contact titled 'No Caller ID.'

-

For the next year, she does what she always does: she wakes up early for coffee, gets ready for her job as a local middle school science teacher, teaches for eight hours, and comes home to an empty house. After everything that had happened in the past few years, she'd resigned herself to being entirely alone for the rest of her life. She hadn't heard from Kate in nearly a year, and she'd intentionally not wanted to hear from Javi ever again. He'd called from time to time, only ever in the very early morning hours of a Friday or Saturday morning. She already knew what he wanted, so she ignored them.

She was isolated and alone. The most 'chasing' she did was watching a group of rowdy, self-proclaimed 'Tornado Wranglers' on YouTube. They make her smile on bad days, doing things so absurd she'd never have thought up most of them. One particular night, she finds herself watching a stream of them chasing in a town only an hour or two from her hometown. On a whim, and maybe a little cloudy from her post-dinner wine, she shoots the account a message, wondering if they'd come speak to her sixth graders who were currently studying weather. She doesn't expect anything from it, it was a long shot, and it's likely no one would answer her. But the next morning, as she scrolls through notifications from the time she'd been asleep, a response sits staring back at her on the screen.

'We'd love to come speak to some junior Wranglers! Next Thursday at 10 AM sound good?'

Her eyes widen and she beams, feeling giddy for the first time in a very long time. That Thursday morning, in an act so unbelievably unlike her, she finds herself putting on her favorite teaching dress and maybe a little more effort into her hair. She feels ridiculous the entire time she drives to her job, but when she spots the familiar red truck in the parking lot, she feels like one of her students with a crush.

The second the group comes to her classroom, everything feels a little surreal. They're exactly as they come across on screen-except for the so-called leader. Tyler Owens, in all of his backwards-baseball-cap glory, is infinitely more handsome in person. Her schoolgirl blush only grows when he's charming and easy-going with her students' dozens of questions, relevant or not, and his witty humor. She feels her heart grow when he gives each of her students their own Wranglers shirts before he approaches her with one of her own, and, attached is a sticky note that she doesn't have a chance to read before he leaves. Once her students break for recess she peels it off the fabric and smiles widely as she reads the messy handwriting:

'We're in town chasing til Sunday. Wanted to invite you for a drink, on me. Saturday? Text me, or call me, and we'll make it a date. -Tyler'

His number sits under his name and she finds herself blushing again before pulling out her phone and adding his number into her contacts before typing out a message to him:

'I'm free anytime Saturday night, and there's a great bar called The Shack not far from my place. I'll meet you there?'

From that moment on, it was rare to see one without the other. Only three dates in, Tyler had already asked her to be his girlfriend, and she had accepted. Within the year, she was back to doing what she loved most-chasing storms and helping those in need with people who loved it as much as she did. After hours upon hours of late night crying sessions and tender affections, she explained her treacherous relationship with Javi, and bit by tiny bit, her heart was healed by the goofy and sensitive boy behind the cowboy hat. Falling in love with Tyler had been easy: he was funny, and smart, and kind, and, maybe most importantly, never made her feel like she was nothing more than an after-hours option.

Now, two years into their relationship, she sleeps next to him in her pale pink sheets, his warmth radiating onto her chilled skin in the coldness of the winter night. Tyler's calloused hands are gentle under her shirt, lightly caressing her sides. Both of them are nearly asleep, it's dark, and late, nearly three in the morning. Her eyes close against his chest, and she's almost asleep when her phone rings. She assumes it's Boone-he had a habit of showing up at her house at all hours of the morning. Tyler groans, his voice cutting through the darkness:

"Jesus, what does Boone want this time?"

She rolls her eyes at her melodramatic boyfriend, rolling over to grab her phone from the nightstand as her eyes adjust to the brightness of the screen. When she gets a glance at the name flashed across her device, she stills, simply staring down at it for a minute.

No Caller ID

Every memory of the Javi she once knew flickers in her mind-the boy she once knew, the person that he was no longer. The Javi she loved had died the same day her three closest friends had. She declines the call, letting it fade back to her lockscreen as she simply stares at the picture of her and Tyler she'd set as her wallpaper.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

Tyler's voice snaps her out of her haze. She shakes her head, simply tossing on her 'do not disturb' before rolling back into his hold.

"Who was it?"

She nuzzles into his neck, finding comfort in the arms of the man who loved her-unconditionally, always, not just when she was convenient. Tyler had never left her naked and alone, he was always there when she woke up.

"Nobody, spam, no caller ID."

-

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Zombie + Restoration Hobbyist Reader Blurb

-

"Blink once if you can hear me."

It calls to them from the darkness - a voice melancholic yet strangely robotic in its application. It's familiar - like something they've heard in a dream. They can't move. Their arms feel as though they're pinned beneath boulders. Their legs feel weightless. The place in their mouth were their tongue sat felt dry and... exposed. Left with no other choice, their eyelids flicker upwards. The flesh over their right eye feels to be constructed of foreign tissue - metal scrapping over the weight in the socket where their eye once was. The image of the figure standing over them is fleeting, lips pulled thin in an expression of approval.

"Blink twice."

Their eyes flutter open for a second time - remaining there as two finger pry apart the lids of their still functioning eye.

"Good. It's fortunate that you are still able to hear. At the moment, my fixes are merely cosmetic so I'm afraid you won't be able to see out of that eye of yours for some time. If you are like other patients I've had the issue will work out on its own."

Their eye rolls idly in their head - struggling to make out any features of the person through the blazing lights overhead.

"You must have questions. Forgive me- I wasn't expecting you to wake up before I had time to work on your jaw. Please use this to communicate if you wish, you can ask me anything."

Function to their left hand returns - their wrist raw and lacking the binding weight shacking it in place. Restraints? Smooth plastic rolls beneath their fingertip as they flex the stiff joints of their digits. Their fingers trace out the rectangular shape of the keyboard's space bar. Gliding gracelessly over the keys, a hand helps stabilize their moments as they begin to type. A computer monitor awakens from its sleep as words pop up on its screen.

"Where am I?"

A common question. "You are in my workplace. I repair things from time to time to keep myself busy. I found you in a creek nearby during a stroll the other night. Thankfully, you hadn't been in there long or I would've had to replace more than the skin of your eye."

Their hand draws up to their eye, feeling the odd texture over their eye. It's felt.

"I hate to bring up any bad memories from the past, but I need to ask in order to provide you with the care you require. Do you remember anything from the day you died?"

Died?... That's... honestly not the most surprising thing about this ordeal. A stabbing pain blisters at the back of their mind as they try to remember. A boat. A shotgun. Laughter. Tears. Please, no. It's not funny just put it down. Please. please-

"Boating trip. They said if I tagged along I could finally be apart of their group. I thought I could trust them. They said they were my friends. They said"

Their body lurches forward - fighting against the bite of their bonds. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why are they still here? Garbble wails ricochet off the bedroom walls. In their time of misery, another memory rushes to the forefront of their mind. Their body convulsing on an operating table. The gentle hushes of another as they pet back their hair - drying blackened tears from the corners of their eyes. A compassionate hand from the world that had abandoned them when they needed someone most.

"Hold me."

"What?"

"I remember.. Arms around me. A voice calling out to me. Promising me everything would be okay. That was you - right? Hold me. I don't want to be alone. Please, don't let me be alone anymore."

The hobbyist removes the glove from their dominant hand, wiping the leathery flesh were thick, congealing tears pool. You pull your newest patient closer - mindful of their stitches as you rub small circles along their spine.

"You can stay here as long as you like. While I'm not the most social person, I can't turn away someone who needs my assistance."

Their sobs are reduced to small whimpers as they cling into you - dying your apron in various fluids as their arm locks around your midsection in a vice grip. You grab onto their other wrist, preventing them from wrestling it out of their chains leaving you with more work in the future if their skin were to tear.

"I know this is a lot for you, but please try not to damage yourself further."

Their arm drops from your waist - fingers flying over the keyboard on a flurry.

"What's your name?"

"My name?... You can just call me Y/n."

[archiveofvirtue]

COLLEGE SWEETHEARTS ⸻ sam winchester

content / sam winchester x female!oc, use of y/n, fluff, stanford sam, pre season one sam, college sweethearts, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, drunk reader, 2.7k words

summary / it's been no secret that you have the biggest crush on your friend Sam, it is so obvious that even Sam himself knows about it. As you are on your way home from a college party your intoxicated body almost independently moves towards his dorm, the alcohol in your system making you have the courage to finally let him know how you feel, but will it change anything or just mess up your friendship?

Your laughter filled the night air as you stumbled out of the bar with your friends, the soft glow of the campus lights making everything feel a little magical. You felt warm from the drinks, cheeks flushed and grinning as the cold nipped at your skin. You weren’t just tipsy—you were full on drunk. And in that dizzy, carefree state, only one thought floated to the top of your mind:

Sam Winchester.

You’d always had a thing for Sam. He wasn’t like the other guys on campus—where they were loud and carefree, Sam was more grounded, reserved, and just…different. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat every time he looked at you. He never joined in on nights out, preferring his books over beer, and you kind of loved that about him.

Your friends were still giggling over something as they walked ahead, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, caught up in a slightly reckless idea—a terrible, wonderful, alcohol-fueled idea. Without thinking it through, you sneaked away from the group, mumbling something about needing to go back to the dorms.

Your feet carried you almost automatically to Sam's dorm. You had been there before, of course, but never like this. It was well past 2am, and the campus was quiet, most students either still out or already asleep. Your pulse quickened as you reached his door, a rush of nerves mixing with the alcohol in your veins.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should really do this. But the liquid courage surged up again, and you knocked on his door.

Inside, Sam was typing the last few lines of his paper. He had a deadline to meet, and while most of his classmates had been out enjoying their Friday night, he had been stuck in his room, working. He didn't mind though—this was how he preferred it. The quiet of the night allowed him to focus.

The knock startled him, his hands pausing over the keyboard. Wondering who could be knocking at his door this late? He wasn't expecting anyone. With a frown, he stood up and crossed the room, opening the door carefully.

And there you were, hair slightly tousled, your eyes bright but unfocused. Your smile was a bit lopsided, and you looked up at him with a mix of nervousness and determination.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was surprised but soft. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," you said, your words slightly slurred. "I was out with the girls, and...I don't know, I just...wanted to see you."

Sam sighed, glancing down the hallway before gently pulling you inside. "You shouldn't be wandering around alone at this hour," he mumbled, more concerned than anything.

You let him guide you into the room, where you plopped down on his bed, giggling. "I know, I know. But I missed you. You never come out with us, Sam. Why don't you ever come out with us?"

He smiled a little, closing the door behind you and leaning against his desk. "You know I'm not really into that scene," he said, watching you as you layed back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you'd have fun," you murmured. "I'd make sure of it."

There was something about the way you said it, a note of vulnerability beneath your playful words, that made Sam's heart ache a little. He had known for a while that you had a crush on him—it wasn't exactly a secret. And the truth was, he liked you too, more than he probably should. But he had always kept a respectful distance, not wanting to destroy the special bond you two shared.

You rolled onto your side, gaze locking with his. "Sam..." you started, voice a little more serious now. "Why don't you ever make a move?"

The question hung in the air between you two, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, you're drunk," he said gently. "This isn't the right time for this conversation."

"Maybe not," you admitted, eyes dropping to the floor. "But it's how I feel. And I think you feel something too. Or am I wrong?"

Sam didn't answer immediately. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you, his gaze fixed on the floor. "You're not wrong," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't want to take advantage of how you're feeling right now."

You sat up, expression softening as you reached out to take his hand. "Sam, I might be drunk, but I'm not lying. I like you. I really like you."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, he saw the possibility of falling for you completely, gently caressing the back of your hand. The tension between you two seemed to thicken, growing heavier with every passing second. Your blurry gaze lingered on him, lips slightly parted as you were about to speak—but no words came out. The silence between you two wasn't awkward, rather peaceful.

Sam felt it too, the pull between you. He had always been careful around you, keeping a safe distance, but tonight—tonight felt different. Your eyes were searching his face for something, breath slow and uneven, and for the first time, Sam allowed himself to really see you, to admit to the feelings he'd buried so deeply.

"Sam..." you whispered, voice barely audible, and before he could process what was happening, you leaned in. Your lips hovered near his, breath warm against his skin. Sam’s heart raced, and his hand instinctively reached up to brush a strand of your hair from your face. You were so close, eyes half-closed, and for a moment, he could picture it—the two of you crossing that invisible line.

Then your lips touched his, soft and hesitant, and Sam nearly gave in, nearly let himself fall into the moment. He kissed you back, just for a second, and it was exactly how you imagined—sweet and tender.

But then, reality hit Sam. The taste of alcohol on your lips, the slight stumble in your movements—you were drunk. And as much as he wanted this, he couldn't let it happen like this.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss gently but firmly, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders, keeping a small but significant distance between you two.

"Y/N," he breathed out. "We can't. Not like this."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion and hurt flashing across your face. "Why?" You asked softly, voice filled with disappointment. "I thought you wanted this too..."

"I do," Sam admitted, his thumb brushing the back of your hand again. "I really do. But you're not sober right now. And I don't want us to do something you'll regret in the morning."

You stared at him, your expression shifting from disappointment to understanding. He was right.

You lowered your head, shoulders dropping slightly as you nodded. "You're right," you whispered. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have—"

"Hey," Sam interrupted, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met again. "You don't need to apologize. I just want to make sure we do this right. So let's talk about this once you're sober, okay?"

For a moment, you just looked at him, eyes searching his for reassurance. It wasn't rejection, but more of a promise, that when it happened, it would be real, and it would be right.

You two sat there in silence for a few moments, the tension from before easing into something more comfortable. Your eyes were starting to droop, the tiredness finally catching up to you. Sam noticed and stood up, pulling a blanket from the end of his bed and wrapping it around your shoulders.

"You can sleep here tonight," he said softly. "I'll take the armchair."

You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn't have to do that, but your eyelids were too heavy, and the warmth of the blanket was too inviting. "Okay," you mumbled, already half asleep.

As you drifted off, Sam sat back down at his desk, his paper forgotten. His thoughts were too tangled to focus on anything else. He watched you for a moment, your face peaceful in sleep, and he knew he had a lot to think about.

But for now, he was fine to just watch over you, keeping you safe.

The light of the early hours burned in your sleepy eyes as you woke up. Your head pounded, a faint reminder of the night before, and you groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. The unfamiliar softness beneath you made you frown in confusion, half-opened eyes taking in the room around you.

This wasn't your dorm room.

Panic rushed through you, suddenly feeling wide awake. You sat up quickly, heart racing as you tried to piece together where you were and how you had gotten here. The room was neat, decorated with books stacked on a desk, a laptop sitting open next to a pile of papers. It was a guy's room, that much was obvious, but—

Then it hit you. Sam. This was Sam's room.

The memories from the previous night began to replay themselves in your head, one by one. The girls' night out, the drinks, your impulsive decision to stop by Sam's dorm, the confession you'd made while drunk out of your mind, the kiss. Heat flooded your cheeks as you recalled the way you'd practically thrown yourself at him, only for him to gently but firmly turn you down.

"Oh my God," you whispered to yourself, burying your face in your hands. The embarrassment was overwhelming, making your stomach twist. You couldn't believe you had done that, that you had put Sam in such an awkward position. And now, you were in his room, wearing the same clothes from the night before, makeup smudged, and your hair a mess.

You glanced over to the armchair beside the bed, where a blanket lay crumpled. Sam must have slept there, giving up his bed for you. You felt greatful, yet ashamed. He had been nothing but kind and respectful, even when you had obviously crossed a line.

You needed to get out of there before he came back. You weren't ready to face him, not with everything still so fresh in your mind. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing the pity—or worse, the awkwardness—in his eyes.

Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, you grabbed your shoes and tiptoed toward the exit. You figured you could slip out, go back to your own dorm, and maybe you could pretend this never happened. You could ghost him for a while, let things cool down, and hope the next time you two saw each other, it wouldn't be as humiliating as this.

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to twist it open, when the door suddenly swung open, revealing Sam on the other side.

You froze, shoes in one hand, your face burning as your eyes met.

"Y/N," Sam said, his voice warm with surprise. He was holding two paper cups of coffee, and his expression softened when he saw you standing there, clearly about to bolt. "Hey, I was just coming back."

For a moment, you just stared at each other. Your mind raced, trying to come up with something, anything, to say. But all you could blurt out was a weak, "Hi."

Sam smiled gently, holding out one of the cups. "I got you some coffee. Thought you might need it."

You hesitated, still embarrassed, but the kindness in his gesture was impossible to ignore. Slowly, you took the cup from him, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. "Thanks," you murmured.

Sam stepped back, allowing you to move away from the door, and you reluctantly let go of the doorknob, returning to the center of the room.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, voice small. "The coffee, I mean. Or...any of this."

Sam set his own cup down on the desk and turned to face you. "I wanted to," he said simply. "Y/N, about last night..."

Your heart sank at the words, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Look, Sam, I'm really sorry about everything. I was drunk and stupid, and I shouldn't have put you in that position. I totally understand if you're upset or if things are weird now. I was just going to leave, so you didn't have to deal with—"

"Hey, stop," Sam interrupted gently, taking a step closer. "I'm not upset. And things don't have to be weird unless we let them."

You looked at him, confused. "But I...what I said last night..."

"You were honest," Sam said, his voice steady. "Maybe it wasn't the best timing, and yeah, you were drunk, but I know those feelings are real. I've been thinking about what you said."

You swallowed hard, mouth feeling dry. "And?"

"And I don't want you to feel embarrassed about it," he continued. "I like you, y/n. I have for a while now. But I wanted to make sure that if we talked about this, we were both in the right headspace."

A tiny flicker of hope spread inside you, but you were still nervous about what this all meant. "So...where does that leave us?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your heart flutter. "It leaves us wherever we want to go," he said. "We can take things slow, talk about it more when you're ready, but I don't want to pretend like last night didn't happen. I care about you, y/n."

The nervousness inside you faded, replaced by relief and excitement.

"Okay," you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I'd like that."

Sam's expression brightened, and he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Good," he said. "How about we start with breakfast? I know a place off-campus that has the best pancakes."

You laughed, the tension finally beginning to ease. "That sounds perfect."

And just like that, you left the room together, feeling the start of something new. You didn’t know where this would go, but with Sam, you were ready to find out.

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

[aayakashii]

Please I beg for Rui crumbs *violently shakes my tin can*

Anything will do

Please 😩

/also hello :3

HELLOOO

I offer you 🤲 rui angst and mild yandere-ism

I'm gonna be honest: I wrote this half asleep so I might change some things later and I will probably expand on it to make a longer fic just of him suffering( ¬ ̀᎑ ¬ ) so this is just a liddol taste for now!!!

Rui knew you didn't take him seriously.

He knew what he looked like, what he sounded like. He had a full length mirror and, even if he didn't, he was pretty sure Ed would be more than pleased to rub it in his face.

Rui knew he was the spitting image of a player. Flirting came naturally to him, winks and flying kisses were mere greetings.

He knew very well that, at some point, his host club image became a way to cope with his curse – since he couldn't ever touch anyone, unless he wanted them dead, what was the harm in being just a little bit more forward, right?

One thing he didn't account for, is how you'd see right through him. You managed to see beyond his carefully crafted mask of nonchalance – not as an irredeemable flirt, but as someone who would gladly trade all the attention he gets from his antics for a way to free himself of his awful curse.

While he acted like he's used to his fate, you saw how inside he was constantly clawing his way out of despair.

Rui didn't really know when the messages he sent your way started stirring his insides. He didn't know when his groin began to feel uncomfortable at the thought of you on his bed, at his mercy (or maybe he could be at your mercy, who knows? He'd be more than willing to adapt).

What he knew very well, much to his chagrin, is that his comments began to feel more and more like truths, rather than harmless flirting.

Suddenly, his fingers hovered a little longer on his phone's keyboard – write, erase, write, erase and write again. Typing a simple message became so difficult when the words mattered, when Rui wanted you to believe his words.

And as he saw the way your hands ran through Lyca's hair while you brushed it before school, he felt the thorns of a feeling, green and rotten, pierce his core relentlessly – the last nail on his coffin of insufferable pining.

Rui, then, thought: how could he finally convince you that he, more than anyone else, truly wanted to know you?

How could he prove that he wanted you to sleep every single night in his dorm, even if he couldn't touch you?

That he just needed to know he was breathing the same air as you – becoming one with you through atoms and chemical reactions, since he couldn't through a kiss.

How could he tell you that he was all yours to take if you wanted to?

It was something new, this longing. And staying awake for so long became a torture, because even as he cut the branches of his plants or cleaned his bar, his mind still went straight to you. 

Would you prefer a sweeter beverage, or a bitter one? 

Would you like the taste of the new drink he was concocting? 

Would you try some of his favorite creations? 

Would you please drink from one of his cups so he could just never wash it again and find a bit of reprieve through an indirect kiss and–

Oh… Yeah… He was losing it.

After all, the world wasn't unfair when it gave him that awful curse. The world was unfair, however, when it sent you his way and prohibited him from touching you like he needed to.

And he desperately needed to be able to hold you in his arms, until he couldn't tell when his body ended and yours started, in order to quench the madness that brewed, so dangerously close to boiling, inside his core.

[rootedinrevisions]

Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 3

SUMMARY: In this part of the story, you find yourself torn between the excitement of a night out with friends and the allure of an offer for a night out with Jake, prompting you to cancel your girls' night. As you navigate the intoxicating atmosphere of a club, Jake's charm pulls you into a thrilling dance of playful flirtation and heated tension, blurring the lines of your casual arrangement. With each laugh and whispered compliment, the boundaries you set begin to waver, leading to an unexpected yet electric moment outside the club and an even more electric ending to the night.

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 2

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. ALCOHOL USE. Dancing/Grinding.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

You stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way the deep blue dress hugged your curves, the fabric shimmering softly under the light. Your hair fell in loose waves around your shoulders, and you had perfected your makeup—just the right amount of eyeliner to make your eyes pop and a soft pink gloss that felt just flirty enough. Tonight was supposed to be a girls' night out, filled with laughter, dancing, and maybe a little trouble. But as you applied the final touches of your lipstick, your phone buzzed on the counter.

You picked it up, glancing at the screen to see Jake’s name flashing. A flutter of excitement danced in your stomach as you opened the message.

Hey, what are you up to tonight?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a smirk playing on your lips as you crafted your response. 

Depends on who's asking.

You hit send, biting your lip in anticipation. It didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

I was thinking about hitting up this new club some of the guys have been talking about. Want to join?

Your brow arched, your heart racing a little faster. Are the guys going to care if you bring me?

Jake’s response was quick, and the straightforwardness of it made your stomach flip. Going solo. Just thought it’d be more fun with you there.

You glanced at the time, the thrill of spontaneity washing over you. The girls would understand. They always did. Without much further thought, you typed back, Okay, I’m in.

You tossed your phone onto the bed, a rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you hurried to grab a jacket and slip on some heels. This was a different kind of night out, one that felt charged with possibilities. The thought of being with Jake, surrounded by music and laughter, made your pulse race. It wasn’t just the thrill of the club or the drinks that awaited you—it was the promise of a night spent with him that had you feeling alive.

You slipped out the door, the cool night air hitting your skin and invigorating you as you made your way to the Uber that was waiting for you. The drive to the club was filled with excitement and a hint of nerves, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to be different.

The moment you stepped into the club, the music hit you—a heavy, rhythmic bass that vibrated through the floors and pulsed in your chest. The place was crowded, lights flashing overhead in sync with the beat. Jake walked beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back as he guided you toward the bar. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you, making you wonder if tonight was going to blur the lines you’d set between yourselves.

When you reached the bar, Jake leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he asked, “What are you drinking? Vodka soda?”

You hesitated for a second before answering, "Y-yeah. Vodka soda’s fine."

He nodded and signaled to the bartender, ordering your drink and a beer for himself. When he pulled out his wallet and slid his card across the counter, you shot him a confused look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, your brows knitting together. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

Jake shrugged, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Drinks are on me.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Normally, you paid for yourself—always had. The boundaries between you two were clear. You didn’t let anyone pay unless it was a date, and this… this wasn’t a date, right?

Suddenly, your mind started racing. Was this a date? Had you unknowingly agreed to something more? Was Jake seeing this as more than just two friends, more than the no-strings arrangement you'd carefully constructed?

But before you could spiral too far down that rabbit hole, Jake interrupted your thoughts by nudging your shoulder lightly. “Hey,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise in your head. “You good?”

You blinked up at him, startled, before forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… surprised, I guess.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, amused. “Surprised I remember your drink?”

“No, not that.” You bit your lip, glancing down at the drink in your hand. “I just wasn’t expecting you to pay.”

His grin widened, a flash of white teeth under the club's dim lighting. “Well, consider it my way of thankin’ you for joining me tonight.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, but you pushed it down, trying to remind yourself of the boundaries. This wasn’t a date. He wasn’t crossing a line, not technically, but something about it felt… different.

Then, as if sensing the shift in your mood, Jake leaned in a little closer, his voice a teasing drawl. “So, what about dancing? Is that allowed under your rules?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Dancing? You hadn’t even thought about that when you’d agreed to come. You glanced out at the dance floor, bodies swaying and grinding to the heavy beat, the heat and energy palpable even from where you stood. It wasn’t necessarily against your rules, but dancing like that... well, it could blur things.

Your hesitation must have been obvious because Jake’s lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “What’s the verdict, darlin’? You gonna let me take you out there, or are you worried it’ll cross some imaginary line?”

There was a playful challenge in his voice, one that made your heart skip a beat. You were overthinking it, you told yourself. It was just dancing. No strings attached, just like always.

You took a deep breath, squashing down the flutter of anxiety in your chest. "Dancing's allowed," you said finally, your voice a little breathless.

Jake’s grin widened, satisfaction evident in his expression. “Good,” he murmured, his hand already reaching for yours. “Because I’m about to make you forget those rules.”

He took your hand, and you let him lead you through the crowd onto the dance floor, the energy around you vibrating with the music. At first, you moved together with a comfortable rhythm, the distance between you just enough to keep things light. But as the third song transitioned into the fourth, the atmosphere shifted.

The thumping bass of the club surrounded you, but all you could focus on was Jake's hands as they held you close, the heat between your bodies building with every passing second. The casual space between you vanished as your hips began to move in sync, the friction of your bodies sparking something hotter than either of you had planned.

“Damn, you look amazing in that dress,” he leaned in and whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You felt a thrill of confidence, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “You should see what I have on underneath it.”

You caught the way his expression shifted, his eyes darkening with desire as he let out a soft groan. “Hoping I can later,” he murmured back, his voice low and filled with promise.

Jake's hands slipped lower, resting just above your butt at first, but as you pressed your hips more boldly against him, rolling them in time with the beat, you felt his fingers tighten, sliding down to cup your ass fully. His grip was firm, possessive even, as if he couldn’t resist any longer.

You smirked at his reaction, feeling the way his body tensed against yours as you ground your hips deliberately into him. You weren’t usually this forward with him, but tonight you wanted to see just how far you could push. The bolder you became, the more Jake’s control seemed to unravel. His breath hitched, and for a split second, you felt like you had him completely off guard.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmured into your ear, his voice rough, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "I’ve never seen you like this before."

You could hear the raw need in his voice, and it spurred you on. You moved against him again, feeling the way his body responded, and let your head fall back onto his shoulder, giving him a wicked smile. His grip on you tightened even more, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you close, his control slipping further with each movement.

"You're so damn sexy," he whispered, his lips barely grazing your jawline now, his breath warm against your skin. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, and you couldn't help but let your body respond, pressing harder against him. The heat between you was palpable, and it was clear neither of you was planning on staying at the club much longer.

Jake’s hand slid up your side, brushing the curve of your waist before returning to your hips, pulling you even closer, if that was possible. The boldness of your movements had caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked this side of you. He was used to you being a bit more reserved, but tonight you were anything but shy.

Jake’s hands were on you, possessive and unyielding, as your hips moved together in a slow, heated rhythm. The air around you felt thick, and you could tell he was on the edge of his control. When he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, you felt the heat of his breath as he growled low, "You wanna get out of here?"

For a second, you toyed with the idea of teasing him. Your body was thrumming with need, but something about making him wait felt just as tempting. You let a playful pout form on your lips, your eyes dancing with mischief as you turned your head slightly. "But I just got here," you said, drawing out the words, knowing exactly what you were doing. You could feel his frustration in the way his grip tightened on your hips, his hands nearly trembling with restraint.

Jake's response was immediate. He pulled you closer, so close that there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His voice dropped even lower, barely audible above the music, but the words sent a jolt of heat straight through you. "If you don’t let me take you home," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, "I’m gonna have to take you right here... and I don’t think you want that."

The dirty promise in his voice made your breath catch, and before you could stop yourself, you squeezed your thighs together, the need to be closer to him overwhelming. He noticed. Of course, he noticed. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he saw the effect his words had on you, his smirk dangerous and knowing.

He leaned in again, brushing his lips against your ear with deliberate slowness. "So... you wanna get out of here?" This time, the question was more of a command than a request, and every inch of your body screamed yes.

Without missing a beat, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Jake’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, pulling you off the dance floor with a sense of urgency that made your pulse race. The crowd seemed to part around you as he led you toward the exit, the heat of his body pressing against yours every time someone got too close. But it didn’t matter. Your focus was solely on him—on the way his fingers intertwined with yours and the possessive grip that seemed to say you were his for the rest of the night.

As soon as the cool air of the night hit your skin, Jake’s hands were on you again, gripping your waist and tugging you against his chest. “Can’t believe you made me wait that long to get you out of there,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your temple, his hands squeezing your hips as if he couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go. The sudden movement made you stumble in your heels, but Jake steadied you, his hold shifting as he leaned down to look at you.

“You alright?” he asked a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, just—” Before you knew what was happening, he bent down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and flipping you over his shoulder with infuriating ease.

“Jake!” you cried out, the sudden change in perspective making you momentarily dizzy. You braced yourself against his back, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you squirmed in his hold. “Put me down!” But he didn’t budge. His arm was like a steel band wrapped around your legs, holding you firmly in place.

“Not a chance, darlin’,” he drawled, completely unbothered as he strode confidently through the parking lot, each step making you bounce slightly on his shoulder. You glanced up, seeing a few curious onlookers watching with amused expressions, but Jake seemed unfazed, his focus solely on you. The sight of his broad back, the way his muscles shifted under his shirt as he carried you, made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the angle you were at.

“Jake Seresin, you put me down right now!” you demanded, even though laughter threaded through your voice, your hands pushing at his back. All you got in response was a smug chuckle, his grip unyielding as he carried you effortlessly across the parking lot.

He kept his word, not letting you go until he reached his truck and set you carefully on your feet beside it. You swayed for a second, your legs still trembling from the sudden shift, and Jake’s hands settled on your waist again, holding you steady as he leaned in.

“There,” he murmured softly, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your hipbone. “No more falling, okay?”

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, your heart pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to carry me.”

His eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your stomach flutter. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to put my hands on you,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with unspoken desire. 

With one swift motion, his hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair, and in an instant, his lips were on yours. The kiss was hot—heated, almost desperate. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was full of hunger, the tension from inside the club finally boiling over. His mouth moved against yours with a possessive edge, claiming you in a way that sent a rush of heat straight through your body.

The sharp nip of his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging it lightly before he soothed it with his tongue, and you let out a soft, breathy sound that only seemed to spur him on. Your fingers instinctively fisted into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as your body leaned into his, craving more of that fire, more of the heat that crackled between you two like electricity.

Every nerve in your body was on edge, hyper-aware of how close he was, how his hand in your hair held you in place while his other hand brushed against your hip, gripping just tight enough to make you feel grounded despite the chaos raging in your mind.

As you pulled away from the kiss, your breath heavy and uneven, Jake gave you a puzzled look. His brows furrowed slightly as if trying to figure out what went wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and still thick with desire. “Did I do something?”

You hesitated for a moment, the words tangling in your throat before you finally managed to speak. “You kissed me.”

Jake blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk, “I’ve done a lot more than that to you.”

You bit your lip, shifting uncomfortably as the reality of the kiss hit you. “Yeah, but… you’ve never kissed me before.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion like he was trying to find the issue with what you were saying. He tilted his head, clearly not seeing the problem. “Kissing’s just foreplay for what’s about to happen,” he pointed out, his voice smooth, the words slipping out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You felt your heart racing, the anxiety creeping into your chest as you struggled to shake the thoughts swirling in your mind. He was right—this wasn’t anything new. It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of what always happened between the two of you, just another step before you ended up tangled in his sheets.

But something about it still made your heart skip a beat. You pushed the feeling aside, determined to silence that small voice inside that was overthinking everything.

Jake leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, and his warm breath sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re thinkin’ too much,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. “When I get you back to your place, I’m gonna have to clear that pretty little head of yours.”

His words went straight to your core, and you felt the tension in your body release slightly, your earlier hesitation fading away. You knew what this was, and you weren’t about to let your overthinking ruin the moment. You let out a shaky breath, your mind slowly untangling itself as you nodded.

Jake smirked, his eyes dark with intent as his hand tightened around your waist. “That’s better,” he murmured, before pressing one more heated kiss to your lips. “Now get in,” he said as he motioned toward the truck, his thumb tracing idle circles on your hip as he waited for you to move.

For a second, you just stood there, staring up at him. His expression was relaxed, but there was a simmering intensity beneath the surface that made your skin tingle. This thing between you two... it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to make your heart flutter or your stomach flip. But here you were, melting under his touch, wanting him in a way that scared you.

Shaking off the thought, you turned and climbed up into the truck, settling into the passenger seat as you tried to calm your racing heart. Jake shut the door behind you, then jogged around to the driver’s side, sliding in beside you with an ease that made everything he did seem effortless.

The truck rumbled down the dark road, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. Jake had one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other draped lazily on his thigh, his thumb tapping lightly to some rhythm only he seemed to hear. The night was quiet, except for the faint thrum of your pulse still racing from the club and everything that had happened so far.

A sudden chill swept over you, and you shivered, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. Jake glanced over at you, his eyes flicking between you and the road.

“You cold?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the goosebumps on your arms betrayed you.

Without another word, Jake reached up and turned down the air conditioning, the cool blast fading to a more bearable breeze. But then, with his free hand, he reached into the backseat, rummaging around for a second before tossing something into your lap. Surprised, you looked down to see a worn Navy sweatshirt sprawled across your legs.

You blinked, glancing up at him with a confused look. “What’s this?”

“Put it on,” he said simply, his eyes still focused on the road, but a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You hesitated for a moment before slipping the sweatshirt over your head. It was warm, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As you settled into it, the faint scent of him lingered in the fabric—something woodsy and clean, unmistakably Jake. You took a deep breath, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over you.

“Better?” he asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, better.”

Jake returned your smile with one of his own before reaching over, his hand settling on your thigh. His touch was warm, the weight of his hand a reassuring presence as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin. He didn’t say anything more, just kept his hand there as he focused on the road ahead, guiding you both toward your place.

The simple gesture—his sweatshirt, his hand on your leg—felt unexpectedly intimate. But in the quiet of the drive, it didn’t feel too heavy or complicated. It was just Jake being Jake, the line between you both blurring for a moment but never fully crossed.

As Jake continued driving, the quiet rumble of the truck and the gentle sway of the road lulled you into a drowsy haze. The warmth of his sweatshirt, soft and comforting against your skin, combined with the alcohol humming through your veins, sent you slipping into sleep before you even realized it. Jake noticed, his lips curving into a small, amused smile. You looked peaceful, bundled up in his sweatshirt, just like the angel he always teased you about being.

When he pulled up to your place, he cut the engine and moved around the truck. Gently opening the door, Jake leaned in, his fingers expertly unbuckling your seatbelt without disturbing you too much. But as his arms slid under you to lift you, you stirred, blinking awake and looking around in confusion.

"You're home," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring as he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your front door.

He set you down gently, his strong hands steadying you as your feet hit the ground. The weight of the moment hit you, and with it, the realization of what had been the unspoken plan for the night. The two of you had been on this track from the moment he asked if you wanted to get out of there. But now, standing in front of your door, sleep still tugging at your eyelids and the warmth of his sweatshirt making you feel oddly safe, you hesitated.

You knew what Jake was expecting. And, honestly, part of you wanted it, too. But another part just wanted to curl up in bed, the softness of his sweatshirt wrapped around you, and drift off to sleep.

Except... that felt weird, right? You don't wear the sweatshirt of your casual fling. You don’t cuddle up in it like it’s something more than it is. 

As if reading your mind, Jake shifted slightly and broke the silence. "We talked about what was gonna happen tonight," he reminded you, his tone light, no pressure in his words.

You swallowed, the weight of the evening settling over you. "Yeah... Do you hate me if I take a rain check?" you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Jake scoffed, his lips quirking up into that familiar crooked smile. "Hate you? Come on, sweetheart. Not a chance," he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. He leaned in a little closer. "Get some sleep. We’ll figure the rest out later."

Relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Thanks, Jake. Get home safe, okay?"

He nodded, gave you one last lingering look, then turned and headed back to his truck. You watched him until he disappeared down the street, then slipped inside your place, closing the door behind you.

As you made your way to your room, your mind was still buzzing. You quickly tugged Jake’s sweatshirt off, tossing it onto your bed before shimmying out of your dress. As the fabric fell to the floor, you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror—the lacy set of lingerie you’d chosen specifically for tonight staring back at you, a reminder of what you’d expected to happen. You sighed. It felt strange, wearing something like this for a casual fling. Too intimate. Too much.

You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, sliding into them quickly before catching sight of Jake’s sweatshirt again. 

The apartment was a little chilly tonight, and, after all, if he really wanted it back, he would have asked for it, right? Before you could overthink it anymore, you reached out, pulling the soft fabric over your head and curling up in bed. 

The warmth of it, and the faint scent of him lingering in the fabric, wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you pulled the blankets up and let your eyes drift closed.

A few hours later you were pulled from your sleep, your phone lit up on the nightstand. You picked it up, heart skipping a beat when you saw Jake's name flashing on the screen. With a mix of curiosity and excitement, you swiped to answer.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

“Yeah, it’s just… I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, his tone slightly shy. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Relief washed over you, even if you didn’t want to admit it. “Oh.”

“I didn’t wake you up, right sweetheart?”

“N-no. I was just trying to fall asleep, but I hadn’t yet,” you lied.

He chuckled softly, and the sound warmed you. “Same here. Just can’t stop replaying the night over and over.”

You settled into your pillows, your heart fluttering as you listened to him talk about the club, the way you had lit up the dance floor, how beautiful you looked in that dress. 

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, teasing and flirting, sharing thoughts and dreams until the world outside faded into nothingness.

Before you knew it, the soft cadence of your voices turned to whispers, the late hour pulling at you both. As the conversation drifted, you felt your eyelids growing heavy.

And just like that, you both succumbed to the weariness of the day, the phone resting between you as sleep overtook you. The last thing you heard was Jake's soft breathing on the other end, a rhythm that matched your own as you drifted into dreams—dreams colored with the promise of what was to come and the undeniable connection that had sparked between you two.

[flawdchaos]

Lips of an Angel

Lando Norris x Reader

based on lips of an angel by hinder (if you haven’t heard this song pls listen to it because it’s a banger and this is heavily based on it.)

tw: angst, kinda sorta cheating, reader and lando being dummies

a/n - hi friends, this is my first time writing for f1. i’ve written before on here and took a break to study on class work. i’ve fallen back into my f1 phase and dreamt this up on the way into work tonight. i hope you enjoy, feel free to give me feedback. thank you xx

word count - 1500 (ish)

Lando’s room illuminated from the soft glow of his phone on the bedside table, buzzing against the base of the lamp. He moved as delicately as he could, careful to not wake the girl sleeping on his chest, to see who could be calling so late. He rubbed his eyes and squinted reading the name across his screen, the name he chose to disguise Y/N’s contact.

JULIE - MARKETING.

He slid out from under the girl, tiptoeing to the hallway before whispering a hello through the phone.

“Lando?” the voice shook through the phone. “Lando, I’m sorry.” he could hear it now, the sniffles and uneven breaths - she was crying. He crept down the hallway a bit more in an attempt to gain distance from his bedroom and sleeping companion.

“Y/N, why are you crying? Is everything alright?” he whispered, being met with only sniffles. “I’m in the living room. I have to whisper. What’s wrong?” He was growing impatient in her silence, the worry growing each minute he was on the phone call.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this - this pretending. I want you for myself. Call me selfish,” she took a deep breath in “, but I deserve you - not her.”

She had never been this brash before but he couldn’t blame her. After months of secret conversations, shared glances, and hugs that lingered just a little too long - he had to agree with her.

What they shared wasn’t meant to happen in the first place. Lando and Y/N had been in the same friend groups for years, only knowing each other mutually. It stayed that way until one night when they found themselves alone at the bar, friends having left long ago. One too many drinks and the heavy hand of the bartender led them back to Lando’s flat in London. They agreed the next morning, for the sanctity of their ‘friendship’ it would never happen again - but, they were both lying to themselves and they knew it. One night turned into two and before they realized it, the rest of Lando’s winter break was shared mostly in the sheets of his bed. It was only when he was leaving back to Monaco that things came to a halt abruptly. No conversation or discussion of what the hell had just happened over the past few months, just radio silence on both ends. It was an unspoken ending between the two.

That was until a couple months later and during Lando’s first podium of the season that he found himself wishing she were there to celebrate with him. Drunkenly, he debated his options and finally decided to send her a text telling her just how much he missed her and the things they would do. His text sat unattended in her messages for the rest of the night because while Lando was thinking of her, she was doing everything she could to forget about him - and this included making the same trek home from the bar with a stranger. Come morning the only thing the pair was left with was regret.

Y/N was the first to reach back out again after his crash in Las Vegas. She couldn’t admit to her friends just how shaken it had her but she tossed and turned in the bed for over an hour before picking up her phone.

Glad you’re okay. Try to stay out of the wall next time, yeah?

Her name lighting up his phone had his heart beating almost as fast as the adrenaline of crashing did. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as his mind raced on what to say. It was late in the UK so his response would probably go unnoticed until the morning. Or - had she stayed up that late to watch him race? Or should he say crash.

“What’s got you stumped, mate?” Max’s voice broke him from his daze as he glanced over his shoulder. “Y/N, aye? Just admit it.”

Lando’s head shot up to meet Max’s stare. “Admit what?”

“That you’re fucking whipped. I’ve seen you stalking her instagram.”

Something about Max’s words ignited a feeling within him. For the first time in his “playboy” career - Lando Norris was scared of his feelings.

—

It wasn’t long after the Las Vegas Grand Prix that Y/N had noticed a shift in Lando. He was almost nonexistent on her social media - no likes, hearts or story views. She chalked it up to the busy life he lived but when she clicked through his ‘close friends’ instagram story, her heart fell to her stomach. Lando had his arms wrapped around another girl, lips pressed against her cheek in front of a mirror. All of her questions and doubts were confirmed with a simple click and despite him owing her anything, she felt betrayed. Y/N couldn’t deny it anymore - the time she had spent with Lando was a whirlwind and no matter how many nights she spent curled up in bed, their bodies pressed together, she was always left wanting more.

On the mornings she woke before him, which had been every morning except two, she had found herself tangled in his arms feeling safe and secure. The true depth of her feelings came to be when she slowly awoke one morning to Lando running his arms down hers and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, vowing to return shortly. He stuck true to his promise when he crept back into the bedroom, two cups of tea tucked safely in his hands. She realized then that a small snippet of a domestic life with Lando was all she ever wanted but when he spoke again, the reality of their situation came back into play.

“Max is coming over in an hour to set up some stuff for the new Youtube video. I don’t mean to rush you but I figured our secret was still between us.” She nodded and hummed before taking another sip of her tea.

“Sure thing. I’ll be gone as soon as we finish our tea.”

-

Y/N finally realized, after viewing Lando’s story, that she had to move on. Find somebody to distract her from the replays of her intimate moments shared with Lando - and so she did. The pair both settled into mediocre “relationships” to distract themselves from the constant longing they had for each other. Subtle posts made to stories in hopes to cause jealousy in each other were made almost weekly. Lando had been seeing a girl one of his mates had set him up with, and Y/N had met a guy at a bar in London on a girls night out. Neither of them were unhappy, per se, but nothing matched the energy that the pair had shared before. On nights after rough races and a few drinks, Lando would have dreams that the girl in his arms wasn’t who had been currently seeing but Y/N instead. One dream had sent him over the edge and he had called her that night to hear her voice.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. His longing was quickly turning into regret as he realized this was probably a mistake before her soft voice filled the phone, she was whispering.

“Lando?” his heart was racing at the mere sound of her voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to wake you.” he said, hand raising to his mouth as he started biting at his fingernails.

“It’s okay, are you alright?”. She was still whispering.

“Uhm,” he began, shuffling his feet against the rug below him. “Fuck. This is so stupid…but I had a dream about you. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“A dream? About me?” he could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone, probably trying to put distance between her and her partner just like he had done.

“Yeah. A dream. It isn’t the first one I’ve had either.” They were both silent for a moment before he continued. God, why was he admitting this. “And I guess they’ve just helped me realize some things.” His heart was beating so hard that he figured she could hear it through the phone. A sharp intake of breath from her end of the phone had him biting at his nails again.

“What things, Lan?” Lan. He hadn’t heard her say that in months.

“My girl’s asleep in the next room. John is probably in the room next to you asleep. We’re kilometers and kilometers apart but yet, despite all of that, every time I close my fucking eyes all I see is you. All I hear is you laughing. I dream of you.” He sat down, head in his hands. “I guess I never really moved on, Angel.” The nickname had given her long ago falling effortlessly from his lips.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she hung up the phone, called him a dickhead, and never spoke to him again. All of the worst options lived in his head. The last thing he expected her to say was,

“Lan, I dream of you too.”

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter seven

Summary: Baby, bye bye bye?

Warning: Mentions of John Walker.

Word Count: 1252

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A/N: The NSYNC gif tho. I love Sam Wilson. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

By the time Sunday evening came, you felt rejuvenated. Thanks to your family and friends, and some relaxation, has worked wonders on your frayed nerves. 

Yet, as Monday approached, the familiar anxiety crept back. You knew you had to face him again. The thought gnawed at the edges of your peace, like a shadow lingering in the background. 

The office was gradually coming to life with the hum of morning conversations and the clacking of keyboards. Settling at your desk, you took a deep breath to steady yourself. A mix of anticipation and uncase grew as the minutes ticked by. Your gaze kept darting to the entrance, waiting for his inevitable arrival.

But, as the clock struck 9:00 AM, he had not walked through the doors. By 9:30, whispers began to ripple through the conference room as your colleagues glanced at each other. Puzzled by his absence, catching snippets of their conversations - questions about his whereabouts, if anyone had heard from him.

You couldn’t help but feel relieved, but, you couldn’t help but wonder: had something happened? Was this just temporary? Was someone more intense to come?

As the morning dragged on, his absence was both a blessing and a cause of concern. The office turned into full-blown speculation by lunchtime. Theories were being exchanged in hush tones, their curiosity spiking. You tried to focus on your mind, yet your mind kept drifting back to him, especially after the mumbled accusations aimed at your brother. 

~

It wasn’t until late that afternoon that you finally got some answers. Your phone buzzed with a notification from the local news app. Out of habit, you took a glance at the screen, your heart stopping as you read the headline: Police department asks for help in locating a missing man. 

Your pulse quickened as you clicked the notification, bringing up the article. The picture accompanying the story confirmed your speculations - it was John. According to the report, his wife reported him missing after not being seen or heard from since Saturday evening. 

The article mentioned the police were investigating, specifically, Officer Fury would be leading the case. He was appealing to the public for any information. Your mind began to race with questions. Had he simply vanished? Despite everything he had put you through, the news of his disappearance left you with an uncomfortable mix of emotions. 

Sitting back in your chair, you tried to process the revelation. As the office continued to buzz with the news, you decided to share the article in the Avengers group chat: Have you heard about this? - you asked, with the link attached. 

Within minutes, you received replies:

Nat: “Why am I not surprised he was a cheater too?”

Wanda: “Yeah, it just came on the news at the bar. Everyone is talking about it.”

Sam: “*NSYNC ‘Bye bye bye’ GIF*”

Stevie: “Sam, no! 🤣 Yeah, I’m with Wanda and EVERYONE is talking about it, had to tell them at least 10 times we had nothing to do with it.”

Bucky ❤️‍🩹 : “Good.”

~

The usual office chatter was overshadowed by the unfolding mystery as the rest of the day passed. Whispers in corners, and gazes fixed on his empty cubicle. As much as you tried to focus on your new project, your thoughts kept returning to him and the article. 

By the time you returned home, the sky darkened, and a cool breeze swept through the city streets. Unlocking your apartment door, you felt a shiver run down your spine. The weight of the day pressed down on you as you settled on your couch, your thoughts drifting back to Saturday morning, cuddling with Bucky.

Turning on the TV, you caught the last few moments of another news report about him, the anchor repeating details you already knew. Seeing it on the screen made it feel even more real. Leaning back, your mind swirled with possibilities. 

The buzz of your phone interrupted your thoughts. Glancing at the screen, you expected another report about John, but instead, it was a message from Bucky: “Want some company? I’ve got pizza… and cola.” 

You felt your cheeks flush as you smiled down at your phone. “You know the way to my heart. Doors open for you,” you replied as you stood from the couch, heading to your apartment door to unlock the latch. 

Within minutes, the door opened, and your gaze snapped to it. You managed a smile as you watched Bucky enter your apartment with a pizza box and a small crate of cola bottles. You noticed the first thing he did after closing the door was put the latch back into lock. 

“I don’t like you having that unlocked, even for me,” he mumbled as he set the food and drink aside on the dining table. 

~

After dinner, the two of you settled on the couch, the aroma of takeout filling the apartment. Bucky had kept the conversation light throughout the early evening, you recounted funny stories from the bar and shared the latest gossip from your friend's lives. He was a welcomed and comfortable distraction. 

The TV played in the background, and the same news article from earlier began to play once again, snapping you out of your Bucky-induced haze. His jaw tensed as he reached for the remote, swiftly turning it off just as they showed a photo of John. Bucky turned to you, his expression serious. “How are you feeling about all this?” 

Sighing, you put your cola back on the coffee table. “It’s strange,” you admitted as you brought your knees up to your chest. “I should be relieved that he’s not, you know, around, but instead, I feel… unsettled.” 

Bucky nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I get that, Sweetheart, it’s hard for you to switch off your feelings,” he reached out, wiping a tear you hadn’t realized had spilled. “Even if the person who caused them was… well, him.” He sighed, pulling you into him. 

A sniffle escaped as you rested your forehead against his, “Thank you, Bucky. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” you mumbled, trying to steady your breathing. 

He smiled, his thumb still wiping the tears. “You don’t have to find out.” 

~

Bucky stood in your doorway, making sure you were truly asleep before, he glanced down at his phone, dialing a number. Once he was positive you weren’t going to wake up, he closed your bedroom door and quietly slipped back into the living room. 

Keeping his voice low, “Fury,” he said as the line connected. “Yeah, she’s asleep,”

There was a pause as Fury spoke on the other end of the line. Bucky’s jaw tensed as he listened intently. “She’s doing alright,” he continued, keeping his voice steady. Another pause, during which Bucky glanced toward your bedroom again, ensuring you were still asleep. “You got any updates?” 

Bucky nodded slightly at Fury’s response, keeping a calm demeanor. Listening as Fury outlined the state of the investigation his responses were brief and measured as he reached for another slice of pizza.

“Got it. I’ll keep an ear out,” he spoke before giving Fury another moment to speak, his eyes narrowed. “Sure, I get it.”

Bucky ended the call, finishing the pizza. He turned the TV back on, the news report still covering John’s disappearance, the same details they’d had all day replaying. 

Sitting back on the couch, his thoughts churned, the weight of the situation pressing down. Yet, his resolve to protect you was tireless.

---

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[goatakiart]

JEALOUS XAVIER!!!💛

Love And Deepspace

SFW

Bar scene

Kiss scene

I put a lot of work on drawing and writing, I hope you like it! 💛

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ

You walk into the office in drowsy steps towards your desk and drop into your chair. It's too early in the morning. The sun is barely out, and everything is still dark.

Just when you short things out before you begin to work, a colleague comes over to your desk with a cup of coffee. Since he came to the office and you work together, he keeps bringing you coffee every morning, which is curious, but you appreciate the gesture.

Right when you thank him and he begins to walk away, you notice a different figure walking up to your desk with a bag on his hand. It seems like a busy day already. You blink in surprise.

"Xavier?? What are you doing here?"

Xavier lets the small bag on your desk.

"I was passing by for some intel, so I brought you breakfast. I...will probably have to stay here today."

He takes a small glance at the coffee sitting on your desk and looks up at the man that's walking away.

His presence made the day better already

You smile and drag another chair next to yours, the sound of the dragged chair legs draws Xavier's attention back to you. You simply pat the chair next to you.

"Be my guest."

Xavier's lips curl up. He brings a laptop and some books to his side of the desk. You spend some time eating together and talking about how you slept, You enjoy hearing about all the weird dreams he always has. Unfortunately, you have to cut the chase and work. You both drown in silence and focus on your tasks. Only the sound of keyboards and the book pages is heard all around. However, his presence is enough company.

The afternoon comes, the orange light hits through the window, and a lot of people leave the office. Your colleague comes to your desk once again.

"Hello, was the coffee good?"

Xavier just ignores him. He crosses his leg as he keeps reading his book.

You smile politely at the man on the other side of the desk and nod in response. He smiles back happily.

"I'm not here for that tho! Did you know that a team of hunters is gonna have a party going on tonight? It's at the bar on the next square. I thought I should invite you, I'll be there too."

Xavier subtly takes his eyes away from the book and side eyes him behind the pages, in a way that none notices. You agree to go and continue the conversation a little before he heads off.

"See you there, Trevor." You wave goodbye and finally close the laptop.

As you walk back home with Xavier, he's a little too silent. He's probably focused his thoughts on his research. The pink and peach shades of the sky eliminate on him beautifully, it causes you to daydream for a short while and grin like an idiot. You poke his shoulder softly. A cloud moves and casts its shadow against you both, hiding the light of the sky.

"Did you hear?"

"Hmm?"

He rotates his head to your direction, he's still in thought.

"About the party."

"Oh, what about it?"

You hesitate slightly before asking him, he probably won't accept, he's not the type to party, but you try anyway.

"Do you wanna come--"

His focus fully shifts to you.

"I would love to go with you."

He didn't even leave you fully finish the sentence, you're a bit shocked he agreed so fast, but it's a pleasant surprise, he looks eager to come.

"Then, I'll see you there?"

His expression becomes somewhat alluring, a smile forms on his lips, his head tilts, the cloud moves away and the light is even brighter than before, you can see the sky in his eyes.

"I'll come take you by 10pm instead. Let's go together."

You raise an eyebrow by his reactions but agree, you didn't wanna go alone anyway.

"Sure, let's go together!"

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆

The night finally comes, and you're outside your door waiting for Xavier to appear. You wear a simple short, sleeveless, black dress and boots, not much. As he appears, you notice he's dressed in black for the first time since you met him, which makes you match. A buttoned top and fancy pants with a golden chain on his neck with a small star. It's as if he did it on purpose.

"You look really good!" You say excitedly and his face can't help but brighten up in satisfaction.

"Do you like it? I bought it today. You look beautiful Y/N." He says and softly reaches for your hand which you playfully take and twirl around as if you're dancing, you both chuckle.

"Did you buy this only for today?"

"Perhaps I need a change."

He looks down at your purse embarrassed.

"Let me take this for you."

He takes your purse and hangs it on the side of his shoulder.

"Why, thank you."

You lovingly wrap your hand around his bicep as you head towards the party.

You reach the entrance and you both notice that the club is packed and loud music is playing. Some of Xavier's old colleagues appear and begin to talk to him, he gives you a look that you know very well... he's pleading to be saved, however you do not submit to the request.

"I'll find a seat for us, it's not bad to socialize once in awhile, I'll be waiting for you alright?" He looks quite disappointed but agrees.

"I'll be back soon."

You get in, nuzzle your way through to find a place to sit. Trevor also finds his way to you. He reeks of alcohol, so you assume he's already drunk.

"Heyyy! You made it here! I'm so glad to see you."

"Well, I said I would come."

You are being polite but way colder than how you treat Xavier. You clearly don't trust him enough. He's sloppy and his voice is unstable. He approaches you, you take a step back in response. "I noticed I've never seen you fight! I'm pretty sure you're an amazing hunt--"

"She's an exceptional hunter."

Xavier's voice cuts him off from behind you. His hand wraps around your shoulder tightly as he towers over you. His voice is firm, his eyes darken, you could say he's a little...scary.

For a moment your thoughts wander again. You think to yourself that he looks crazy attractive in black. Trevor takes a step back this time, as Xavier continues, his voice sounds mad. He's rarely mad.

"If you wish to witness a fight, I could give you a demonstration."

He tilts his head with a frown, rising an eyebrow, an expression fill of intimidation.

The drunk man's gaze lower in shame.

"No, man, it's alright... I'll... I'll go now..."

He raises his hand in defeat and walks away in quick steps, almost running. You blink in shock, you look up at Xavier as he watches him go like a carnivore watching a pray.

"What was that?"

As his gaze turns to you, his eyes change immediately from threatening to sweet, you raise your eyebrows, and your eyes widen. Your expression communicates perfectly to him. Meanwhile, the music started changing towards the slow romantic kind.

"He was obviously drunk. He could have done something inappropriate."

"So tonight you're my knight in shining armor?"

Your expression switches to a slightly teasing grin. He smiles in response and bows as he extends his hand.

"Would you care to give me this dance, your majesty."

He could get into the role pretty easily. It's as if he's actually a knight.

"I would love to." You placed your hand on top of his in delicate movement. He grasped it tightly and planted a kiss on top of it before he pulled you close to him. You release a short gasp by the sudden pressure. Your heart doesn't just skip a beat but miltiple. Your chest touches his, and his hand lingers to your back as you begin to dance. You look up at him. He grins with an adorable gaze.

"The dance lessons we did back then seems to have worked."

Your face flushed at the reminder, you immediately look away.

"Did you get that black fit on purpose?"

You were meant to ask this for some time now, but now it was the perfect opportunity to avoid the conversation.

"We're matching, Xavier."

The expression painted on his face reveals it all. You could notice a tint of pink on his cheeks at the revelation of understanding his motive. You both keep dancing. He leans forward to the side of your face. You can feel his hot breath on your ear, but he doesn't immediately speak, as if he's hesitating. Your heart begins to beat faster, you hold your breath. Xavier tightens the embrace, wrapping his arms around you like he'd never let you go. You can feel the warmth of his body, hear his heartbeat as it grows in intensity. His muscles tighten around you. When he speaks, his voice is nothing like what you've heard before. The slow, sensual whisper leaks down your ear, like honey on fruit.

"What's wrong with showing others you're mine."

You would never expect him to say something like that, your lips part slightly as you stay in place. The thought he's jealous drives you crazy. You feel a spark down your nerves as you release the breath you were holding in fear it will reveal the overflowing emotions. You caress the hand which is holding yours and interwine your fingers together as you begin to slow dance, you sneakily kiss his neck as he still leans against your ear. His breath catches in his throat, he reactively jumps back to check your expression. He looks down and around in embarrassment. You giggle. Your arms go around his shoulders, closing the space in between. You tiptoe to reach his ear, to return the previous act. This time you are the one to whisper seductively.

"I like it when you're jealous. I might even make you jealous on purpose."

You say teasingly, acting all tough. However your heartbeat is quickening. He's not immune to this either. He can feel his heart hammering against his chest and his face feeling hotter and hotter. His hand explores your back before it reaches your cheek, he continues by placing it under your chin. His expression overwhelms you with desire. His face flushed with passion and a little desperation. He meets your gaze and swallows. He's lost himself in all the feelings you give him. The look you have on your face is enough to satisfy him. The corners of his lips curl up in a slight teasing smirk. 

"I would not suggest that."

His gaze explores your face, slowly moving his pupils around, scanning you. His actions sends a jolt through your veins, your face turns red, you subconsciously bite your lip, but you decide to keep up the act.

"Is that so?"

He raises his eyebrow in amusement, the smirk grows larger.

"That is so."

He leans even closer, his blue eyes are shining against the dark environment beautifully, he doesn't break the eye contact, you slowly lean as well, your eyes are closing, blocking the view of his own,  till you feel his soft lips against yours. They taste like cherry, they feel like silk, his perfume doesn't go unnoticed either. His effords are shining like a bright star against a dark sky, and they totally win you over. His hand gripped on your back, pulling you against him. He deepens the kiss, you can't help but add your tongue to the game, so you lick his lips shyly. A short whispery gasp escapes his lips just before he deepens the kiss, and you feel his delicious tongue against yours. Your body reacts like a magnet to him. You melt into his embrace, not resisting anything he does. He has you in the palm of his hand when he claims you, he knows it, and he loves it.

[heartsandhischier]

Rinkside Romance

nico hischier x reader

summary - 3.2k words. Y/N, an author has an unexpectant meeting with the captain of the New Jersey Devils, Nico Hischier

note - this is my first writing ever, so I hope you all like it :)

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating a rich symphony of scents that blended with the soft murmur of conversation that surrounded the quaint little coffee shop. The coffee machines whirred in time with the gentle hum of patrons bustling about, seeking comfort from the cold evening.

Amidst the comforting atmosphere, Y/N found herself engrossed in the world of her latest novel, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she wove her characters through the chapter’s final paragraph. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating the keys with practiced ease, each click punctuated by the rhythmic beat of the nearby espresso machines.

As she reached for her steaming cappuccino, her heart skipped a beat, realising the cup was empty. She hurried to the counter, her mind already lost in the world of her novel, she felt compelled to keep her creative momentum going. “Another one?” the barista questioned, his voice barely rising above the din of orders being shouted and the hissing of steam from the machines. Y/N nodded, a smile on her lips as she slid him the empy cup across the counter.

Her gaze wandered across the bustling cafe, taking in the familiar faces and comforting atmosphere that had become her haven since moving to New Jersey. But then her attention was drawn to a figure across the room – a man whose rugged charm and quiet confidence seemed to entice her.

His hand swept his dark locks out of his face, revealing warm brown eyes that sparkeled at her. Their eyes met briefly, and in that fleeting moment, it felt like a page was ripped out from one of her books. In the midst of the coffee shop’s bustle, he held her gaze, momentarily suspending time itself. It felt as if the world had quiteted down, leaving only the two of them in a shared moment of calm amidst the chaos.

“Cappuccino for Y/N!” The call of her name snapped her back to reality. Y/N collected her fresh cappuccino and thanked the barista with a nod. As she took the cup, she turned around in searchfor the stranger with the big brown eyes. To her surprise he was still there, his eyes fixed on her every move, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a final smile, Y/N returned to her booth, unaware that fate was about to interwine.

Puck Drop and Bar Hops

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself in the midst of a bustling local sports bar, where her friend Jessica had successfully persuaded her to come out and experience the city’s vibrant energy and passion for their team. Tonight, it was a hockey match—the New Jersey Devils against the Dallas Stars. Y/N didn’t know too much about the sport but nevertheless kept her eyes glued to the screen as she struggled to keep track of the puck’s whereabouts.

No matter the extent of knowledge, or rather lack thereof. Jessica’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Y/N couldn’t help but join in as the entire bar erupted in cheers with each Devils goal. The atmosphere was electric, with glasses clinking and cheerful chants filling the air as the Devils cruised to a 5-2 win.  

“See! It wasn’t too bad getting out of your apartment to experience this, right?” Jessica chimed, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. Y/N playfully stuck her tongue out in response, joining in the laughter that bubbled between them.

“Come on! You need to get out more! Explore the city, not just your apartment and the coffee shop! Who knows, it might even give you some inspiration for your books,” Jessica continued, nudging Y/N with a playful elbow.

Jessica then leaned in closer, her voice lowered to a whisper. “You know, this bar is where the team usually goes to unwind after their games,” she explained, excitement in her eyes. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get to meet some of the players.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door swung open, causing a wave of cheers to erupt from the fans in the bar as all heads turned to face the entrance. The atmosphere crackled with excitement as a group of familiar faces made their grand entrance—the New Jersey Devils themselves. 

They were greeted with enthusiastic pats on the backs and a flurry of “Go Devils!” from the triumphant fans as they navigated through the bar, basking in the adoration of their supporters. Among them, Y/N’s gaze was immediately drawn to a pair of unmistakable brown eyes, their warmth and familiarity sparking a sudden surge of recognition within her.

Her heart raced as she watched the players move through the crowd, their presence commanding attention and admiration from everyone present. Could it truly be him? The realisation sent a thrill through her, igniting a spark of home and curiosity that she couldn't ignore.

“They’re cute right!” Jessica giggled next to her, her eyes glued to the players now standing by the bar. Y/N turned around in confusion as her friend pried her eyes away from the players ordering drinks and beers. "Y/N, you were quite literally drooling,” caught off guard, Y/N blushed hard as she attempted to regain her composure. “I, uh, I guess so,” she stammered, her gaze flickering nervously between Jessica and the group of athletes at the bar. 

Jessica leaned in closed, her continuing to eye the players. “I think Timo Meier is pretty cute,” she admitted with a playful grin. “But, oh my god, have you seen the captain? He’s also Swiss, like Timo, and he was a first-round draft pick. And those big brown eyes? Endearing as hell!” 

As the evening wore on, Jessica couldn’t help but gush about the players, pointing them out amidst the crowd. Y/N listened intently, her eyes skipping a beat as Jessica rambled on about their captain, Nico, pointing to a tall familiar figure. With a jolt of recognition, she realised that Nico, the captain Jessica had been raving about, was the same guy from the coffee shop. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she stole a glance in Nico’s direction, her mind racing with newfound understanding.

Suddenly, a bartender approached their table, a tray of drinks in hand. “These are from one of the players,” he announced with a wink. “Lucky you!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as she glanced over to the bar, spotting the hockey player with the familiar brown eyes. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins as she quietly thanked herself for agreeing to go out today. 

Emboldened by the gesture, Y/N found herself drawn to the bar, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a big swig of her drink and approached the handsome stranger. With a warm smile, she thanked Nico for the drinks, her voice steady and sure. Nico’s laughter filled the air, a melodic sound that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone warm and inviting.

Before she could say anything else, he extended his hand with a charming grin. “I’m Nico,” he introduced himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Y/N felt a rush of nerves as she struggled to respond, the weight of Nico’s presence catching her off guard, and in the heat of the moment without thought she blurted out an awkward “I know,” immediately cringing at her own words. Nico’s laughter only grew louder, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, it’s nice to meet you again, ‘I know’,” he teased gently, his easygoing demeanour putting her at ease.

Blushing furiously, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the tension of the moment melting away in the warmth of their shared laughter. “Sorry, that probably sounded weird,” she chuckled nervously. “My friend just told me about the team and their captain, and then I realised it was you and…” you rambled on as you tried to explain yourself as the awkwardness you felt lingered. Nico shook his head, his smile widening as he interrupted your panic. “Not at all. It’s kind of cute actually,” he reassured her, his gaze warm and reassuring.

Relieved by his response, Y/N felt her nerves begin to ease. “Thanks,” she replied, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “So, uh, what brings you to the bar tonight?” she asked, eager to keep the conversation flowing.

As the evening progressed, the conversation between Y/N and Nico flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared laughter and easy banter. Y/N occasionally glanced over at her friend Jessica, ensuring she was enjoying herself, only to find her deeply engaged in conversation with Timo Meier, the player she had pointed out earlier.

Seeing that her friend was in good hands with her newfound connection, Y/N turned her attention back to Nico. With each passing minute, she found herself drawn further into Nico’s magnetic presence. Her initial nervousness gave way to a growing sense of comfort and excitement. And as the night wore on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this unexpected encounter was just the beginning of something truly special. 

Jersey lights and Italian Delights

The clicking of Y/N’s heels echoed across the lobby of her apartment building as she nervously adjusted her dress, the sleek black fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. She had opted for a longer dress at Jessica’s suggestion, feeling a bit out of her comfort zone in such formal attire, especially for a date. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As she descended the steps, her heart raced with anticipation. There he was, leaning against the sleek black car, his brown hair swept back, revealing those familiar and warm brown eyes. When he spotted her, his face lit up with a smile that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

“Hey there, ‘I know’,” he greeted her, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “You look stunning!”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush at his compliment as she approached him, his arms wrapping around her waist in a comforting embrace. Meeting his gaze, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you,” she replied softly, her heart racing with excitement. “Ready for our date?”

Their first date was nothing short of magical—a candlelit dinner at a cosy Italian restaurant, where time seemed to stand still as they delved into deep conversations and shared intimate stories. Amidst the flickering candlelight, Nico and Y/N’s connection only grew stronger as the night went on.

As their relationship progressed, Y/N and Nico found themselves drawn to familiar places that held special memories for them. None more so than the cosy, quaint coffee shop where they had first locked eyes. 

“One cappuccino for my favourite author!” Nico’s voice rang out cheerfully as he approached their table, bearing two steaming cups of coffee. Y/N glanced up at the brown-haired man, a smile tugging at her lips at his playful remark. Accepting the coffee, she savoured the rich aroma before taking a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her. “Well, thank you, my favourite hockey player in the NHL,” she quipped in return as he settled into the booth opposite her. Nico chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah, I’d better be,” he teased, reaching across the table to gently brush his fingers against hers.

Their playful banter was interrupted by the familiar sound of Y/N’s phone buzzing with a notification. It was an email about her book release event, scheduled for the following week. Excitement bubbled up inside her as she shared the news with Nico. “I’d love for you to come,” she said, her voice tinged with anticipation. “It would mean the world to me to have you there.” Nico’s response was immediate and unwavering. “Of course I’ll be there,” he said, his brown eyes filled with sincerity.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

As the day of the book release event arrived, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. Sitting at the table where she signed copies of her book for eager fans, her heart was fluttering with each interaction. Amidst the bustling atmosphere, she couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure in the line. It was Nico, patiently waiting with a copy of her newly released book clutched to his chest.

When Nico finally approached her table, his eyes lit up with excitement as he handed her his copy of her book. “Hey there, ‘I know’,” he greeted warmly, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on a signed copy of this book. I’ve heard the author is amazing!”

Y/N chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through her. She signed his copy, adding a little extra flourish with a heart next to her signature.

“Well, a little special signature for my favorite fan then!”

Midnight came creeping, and the event came to a close. Y/N stood up from her seat, approaching Nico, who had been engaging with her fans and colleagues throughout the evening. She smiled at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for being here,” she spoke softly. “Having you by my side means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Nico pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. 

“No matter what.”

From Ice to Ink

Amidst the whirlwind of her book release and hectic schedule, Y/N found herself attending her first hockey game at the Prudential Center in New Jersey. Adorned in Nico’s jersey, proudly displaying the number 13 on her back, she felt a sense of pride and excitement as she entered the arena to support Nico and the New Jersey Devils as they faced off against the Nashville Predators.

Welcomed by a friendly security guard, Y/N was guided to the room reserved for the players’ wives and girlfriends, where she was warmly greeted by the other women. Engaging in conversation and camaraderie, she felt a sense of belonging among them, despite it being her first time attending a game. As the game started, Y/N found her seat alongside the other wives and girlfriends, excitement filled the air. And Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched Nico and the Devils take to the ice. 

As the game unfolded, the tension in the area was palpable. The Predators put up a strong fight, but the Devils matched them stride for stride. The score remained close throughout the game, with both teams trading goals in a back-and-forth battle. Y/N watched with bated breaths as Nico and his teammates fought tirelessly on the ice. The energy in the arena was electric, with fans on the edge of their seats as the team vied for control of the game.

The third period had the whole arena on the edge of their seats. With the score tied, the two teams fought to get the puck into their opponents goal. Chasing the puck across the ice, Nico seized a golden opportunity. As the puck soared into the back of the net, the arena exploded with cheers and applause. Amidst the jubilant roar of the crowd, Nico’s celebration was a sight to behold. With a leap of sheer exhilaration, he raised his arms triumphantly, his face radiant with joy. 

Turning towards the stands, his gaze found Y/N amidst the sea of cheering fans. A wide smile spread across his face as he blew her a kiss, a gesture filled with love and appreciation. In that moment, amidst the deafening roar of the crowd, it was as if time stood still, and their connection shone brightly for all to see. 

As the final buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the game, the scoreboard read: New Jersey Devils 4, Nashville Predators 3. The Devils had emerged victorious in a hard-fought battle, much to the delight of fans in attendance. 

After the game, Y/N waited patiently with the other women in the lounge as the players headed to the locker room. Y/N couldn’t resist checking social media for highlights of the game. To her surprise, she stumbled upon a clip of Nico’s post-game interview. “The celly you did after your goal was terrific,” the interviewer remarked. “That kiss into the crowd—was that planned? Perhaps directed at someone?”

Nico’s smile widened as he responded, “Well, it was a special moment for me. It’s actually my girlfriend’s first game here, so I just wanted to show her a little extra love.”

Watching the interview, Y/N felt a rush of emotion as Nico publicly referred to her as his girlfriend for the first time. When Nico finally emerged from the locker rooms, she couldn’t contain her excitement, rushing to greet him with a big hug and congratulations on the win and his goal.

“So, I’ve been upgraded from ‘I know’ to girlfriend now, huh?” She teased playfully.

Nico chuckled, his eyes filled with affection. With a gentle smile, he pulled away and reached into his suit pocket, retrieving something special from the night—a puck. It was inscribed with the words “Y/N’s first game” in white marker. 

“Well, it would be my pleasure if you’d want that promotion,” he replied, his gaze locked onto hers with those captivating brown eyes as he presented her the puck. 

Nico's words had her cheeks flaring, and with a surge of happiness she nodded eagerly. "I would love to be your girlfriend, Nico!"As their eyes met, he grinned and leaned in to give her a tender kiss, sealing the moment with a promise of more to come.

[sunalee]

jam to my heart — Jay

summary: The handsome guitarist set his eyes on you, and lucky for him, you did the same.

with: Jay (Park Jong-seong)

warnings: rockstar au!, enhypen as a band, jay is a smooth fella, he's charming enough to make my cheeks warm.

a/n: jay with a guitar is such a perfect sight i can't even ratiocinate. Some of the boys aren't metioned, but they're still part of this au.

“C'mon _____, let’s stay on the front so we can see them better!”

Ami calls you out, dragging you through the ’90s themed new pub you’re visiting, “Cords and Jam”. The place is really cool, with black and white checkered floors, red walls with various themed lamps, and posters of classic rock bands. The staff is very friendly, not to mention the drinks and snacks that make you want to spend your whole wallet there.

But the reason you’re here it’s the almost one-year hiatus, not having seen any live show since this period. You miss this environment, the thrill of waiting for the next band to perform, and even the sound check that the musicians do five minutes before the music starts.

Ami told you about this band tonight, Orange Blood. You haven’t heard anything from them yet, but they’re really known on social media for their impressive covers, skilled talent, and very, very, good-looks. 

Rock is great, but a handsome guy playing makes the experience one hundred times better.

She drags you to the front as you both get your bubbling drinks, fortunately not having too many people blocking your path. You don’t mind being in the back of the room, it’s even better to dance there, but you won’t lie, it’s so exciting being right close to the stage, even with the frenetic heartbeats that make you want to take another sip of the drink.

The band finally arrives, five handsome men in their twenties coming in front of the stage. The crowd shouts excitedly, you join them with your own hollering.

“Good night, everyone! I’m Jake, and we are the Orange Blood!” The blonde lead singer announces, a cheeky smile appearing on his face as he hears the crowd’s euphoric cheers.

The drummer, a dark-haired lad with side shaved haircut and looks of a runaway teen, taps four times the drum sticks together, a cue for the other instruments to start playing as well. On Jake’s left side, there’s the keyboard player and the bassist, the two with similar features and exhaling confidence. You heard around their names were Sunghoon and Heeseung. 

But it’s the guitarist on the right side of Jake who catches your attention; suddenly, he’s the only thing you can focus on.

Not only for his great solo at the beginning, but his very charming personality. The way his fingers pluck the strings with such mastery, as if it were as eyes as breathing, his built arms taken by cool tattoo shapes matching with his dark, medium hair, his thin and well cared lips that forms a pleasing smirk whenever he hears a praise from the female crowd. 

And when you hear his smooth, deep voice singing on his microphone, your legs almost give out.

It’s like this man put a spell on you, taking you to a place without time, space or circumstance, all your senses fixed only on him, mind navigating and daydreaming about different scenarios where he’s the main star, and you, his forever partner.

The show was a blast. Everyone had the time of their lives, and Orange Blood for sure would receive a lot of invitations after this concert. The mysterious guitarist wipes his sweating forehead after waving at the crowd, his black regatta clinging on his torso and making him look even more attractive. Unfortunately, he moves away with the rest of the crown, sparing one last glance before going.

That glance goes directly on you.

You don’t know what to think about it, your heart racing and mind numb from the unexpected moment, but before you can try to come up with something, Ami is dragging you by the hand again, leading you to the bar.

She tells you that she’s going to call her friend outside and would be right back. “Don’t accept drinks from strangers” was the last thing she said before leaving. You decide to order another drink, sitting on a free stool there.

You start wondering about what that gaze meant, the sweet flavor of your pinky lemonade helping your mind work even with the pub buzz. But you focus so much on your thoughts, that you don’t notice the main problem right in front of you, brown eyes staring at you with amusement.

“Pinky lemonade?  Sweeter than I thought you would be, huh?” That smooth, dreamy voice wakes you up, making your heart suddenly flips as you finally realize who just sat beside you. He gives you another one of his charming smirks, supporting his jawline on his hand while he extends the other in your direction. “Jay. A pleasure.”

“______.” Best say your name right away than rambling trying to come up with a sentence. “I-It’s nice to meet you too. You played amazing tonight.” You can’t help but blurt your thoughts. 

“You think so?” He tilts his head, looking even more interested now, his eyes following you like a cat gazing at its prey.

You bite inside your mouth, feeling uneasy but not in a bad way. “Yeah, totally.” You nod to your own sentence. Jay tries to hold back a chuckle. “Uh, shouldn’t you be in your dressing room after playing?”

“And lose the party? What’s the fun in that?” He questions, raising his pointer finger to call the barman. “Same thing she’s having.”

Now you can’t help your chuckle. “Are you a sweet man too?” Your interest wins your nerves, showing Jay your playful side that he’ll surely enjoy in the future.

“I don’t like getting drunk. Especially not when I’ve just met a pretty girl like you.” He flirts without shame, making you swoop into his charm so easily that you even forget that you came with Ami here. Not that she wouldn't support you, anyway.

“I don’t know If I should be flattered.” But you’re not hooked enough to be fooled. Whatever this man wants with you, you want to figure it out now.

He gives you a knowing smile, as he just reads you like an open book in front of him. His pinky lemonade comes just in time for his answer, his hand holding the glass but not taking his brown eyes off you.

He wants you to know that feeling too.

“You should be.” He answers honestly, self-confidence boosting around him. “ It’s not every day that I set my eyes on someone special.” He moves to click his glass with yours, taking his time to take a small sip of his drink before leaning close to you, gaze and smirk never faltering.

“And when I find someone special, doll, I don’t lose my chance.”

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 5

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. And if you end up murdering your English Professor for forcing you to be paired up with him, WHO COULD BLAME YOU???

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Mention of SA/SH, BDSM (sex dream), M/M/F sex dream, Felix is a pig, Reader claws Oliver's face, Michael loves Reader so much y'all, Farleigh is on Team Michael, Oliver is delusional and awful, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic.

Author's Note: Finals are a BITCH, but I'm finally done...except I have to do my summer classes soon. But I really wanted to put this chapter out since it's been a while. Thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

Michael’s head was about to explode in the next thirty seconds if fucking Farleigh Start didn’t stop digging his paws through his closet and drawers. No amount of clinking and clacking from tapping on his keyboard would be enough to dull out his shirts shuffled in his chest and hangers shrill screeching against the metal bar in his wardrobe.

“Dear God,” the Yankee, stick-figured giant groaned. “How many math pun shirts do you have? Don’t you have any normal ones? Oh my god, are all the pants you own khakis or Oxfam jeans? Do you seriously not own a single pair of corduroy slacks?”

He slammed his laptop shut. God-fucking-dammit, he was going to kill this asshole if he didn’t shut the fuck up.

“Maybe,” Michael gritted out, “if you just focused on the presentation we’re supposed to be working on, it’ll not bother you.”

Farleigh Start clicked his tongue. “Now, now – it’s not nice to be so testy. Most would consider themselves very lucky that I’m providing my services for free.”

The blonde-blind nerd balked when the word ‘services’ entered his ears. Immediately his mind thought of all the rumors that latched to Felix Catton’s mysterious American cousin – who apparently sucked off every teacher in England. Not that he was homophobic or anything – kiss, fuck, marry whoever you wanted, but he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.

“Services – are you trying to suck my cock so I’ll do your work for you?!”

“…First off, ew,” Farleigh began. “Second, if I left you to do my side of the work, I’m about…86% confident that you’ll end up tanking my grade.” He strolled to Michael’s closet, pulled out a blue gingham-checkered shirt, and grimaced. “Thirdly, I am referring to how I am going to turn–” he nodded towards Michael in disgust “–this, into an actual suitor for our dear (Y/N). Or are you two still doing this little dance of being nauseatingly following each other around like sad puppies and giving each other bedroom eyes without actually fucking?”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the–

Michael slammed his laptop shut and tiredly rubbed his eyes. With a loud and audible groan that he dragged out, he rubbed his eyelids until he could see the kaleidoscope of stars and squiggles in the dark.

Fucking damn it.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you?” he damn-near shouted. “It’s not like that between us!”

Farleigh quirked a brow. “The bedroom eyes or the not-actually-fucking? Because if it’s the former…yes, it is, but if it’s the second,” he brought his hands together in a slow clap, “then well done, Gavey!”

Michael shot up from where he was sitting and ripped the shirt in Start’s hands before throwing it back in his silky oak wardrobe and slamming it shut. Was it so necessary for him to be so fucking insufferable? Was he born this intolerable, or did his fucking cousin, Felix fucking Catton, infect him because being a coked-up narcissist was contagious via proximity or blood?

He heard a few clicks behind him, and the scent of Marlboro Gold cigarettes filled his room.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Michael turned around and stared at his completely useless study partner for this stupid project for his Classics course that he needs to fulfill his fucking “General Education” requirements. Farleigh Start was leaning against his dresser and staring at him with the most judgingly empty gaze ever worn – all while holding a cigarette between his two fingers and getting ash on the floor.

Great – like it wasn’t a bloody fire hazard to cover his carpeted dorm in hot ash.

He shrugged. “What’re you on about?”

Farleigh took a long drag on his lung cancer joystick before exhaling deeply. His disappointed look made Michael’s eyes twitch in irritation.

“About a certain mutual friend we share and adore,” he drawled. “Whom just so happens to be in my dear cousin’s room right now…at night…on a weekend…alone.” He paused to take in Michael’s reaction and smiled. “Ohhhhh, so you do care.”

Michael shook his head. “Nothing’s gonna happen between ‘em. (Y/N)’s too smart for that.”

“Yes, you see – I know that…and you know that. But my cousin?” Farleigh scrunched up his face and made a wish-washy motion with his hand. “Ehhhhh…he’s more the type to think a giant, glaring red-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘STOP’ is another giant, glaring purple-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘Come Hither’ in porno studio 69 font.”

Michael Gavey rolled his eyes and reopened his laptop. “Whatever, I’m not worried.”

“You’re telling me that it doesn’t bother you that our friend is currently in the lion’s den with Oxford’s king?”

“Of course it bothers me,” thought Michael, “but I trust her more than I trust you.”

But Michael wasn’t going to let his forced-upon acquaintance know his thoughts, so all he said was…

“She’s not in the fuckin’ lion’s den, alright? They’re in the Bodleian. I’m going to pick her up from there in like thirty minutes.”

Farleigh cocked his head to the side. “Don’t trust our girl to make smart choices?”

“I trust (Y/N) just fine,” Michael bitterly retorted. “It’s your fucking cousin I don’t trust.”

Because he does – he trusts you so much. He knows how sweet and kind you were to everybody you thought deserved the benefit of the doubt. ‘Deserved’ being the very fine keyword in the detailing because there was no fucking way in hell you were dumb enough to think Sir Felix Catton of fucking ‘SalTbURn MaNor’ deserved your kindness.

Mary, Jesus, and Joseph – he wanted to strangle the old kook when he announced the assigned pairs.

It was Classics English taught by Professor Radcliff Michael Charles Douglas. He droned on about what materials would be on the end-of-term examinations. Everyone in the classroom, save for you and a few others, was either passing notes by throwing them across the room or staring aimlessly at the air with red-rimmed eyes.

“Ya’ ready, partn’r?”

You pursed your lips as a groan fought to escape. You would regret introducing John Sturge’s 1960 American Western masterpiece, “The Magnificent Seven,” to Michael Gavey if he kept up with that god-awful Texas accent.

You turned to your left and shot a blank glare at Michael. “Listen, Billy the Kid, we don’t know if we’re going to be assigned together,” you said.

“Come on, Professor Douglas always pairs the people sitting together as partners so far in the entire term. If it’s not broke, why fix it?”

“Melanie Brown…paired with Bryce Landon…Kemi Brown…paired with Amelia Sanders…”

You leaned on your elbow to whisper in Michael’s ear to drown out your professor’s blasé voice.

“Can we do our project on Hercules?”

He leaned back. “Why him?”

“I want to present on the glorification of toxic masculinity in mythology, and he’s the prime example.”

Michael chuckled. “You just want to piss off old Douglas up there.”

“Katie Caldwell…paired with Oliver Quick…”

“Is that so wrong?” you asked with a smirk. “You can either be one jump scare away from seeing Jesus or a product of institutionalized glorification of misogyny – but you cannot be both.”

Michael stifled a laugh. “You realize that takes away pretty much half of the English, Math, Science, and every fucking department on campus, right?”

You innocently tilt your head to the side. “Does it?”

“You’re terrible,” Michael snickered. “Completely evil.”

“Oh, please,” you swatted his arm. “You love me anyway.”

“Michael Gavey…paired with Farleigh Start…”

You and Michael turned to the front with disbelief. Wait…if Michael was paired with Farleigh…then that meant…oh, no.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…paired with Felix Catton. That will be all – no changes.”

Michael watched with wide eyes as your head slowly turned to the back of the lecture hall. He watched your face pale in disgust and horror when your eyes stopped at Felix Catton. Michael’s blue eyes narrowed at the lecherous grin Felix shot to you before he puckered his lips to blow a little kiss with a wink.

Your body involuntarily shuddered at the predatory implications. Michael watched as his best friend buried her face in her hands. He heard her say the exact same thought he was having.

These are going to be the worst few weeks of my life.

To say it bothered Michael that Felix Catton was making the moves on you, so to lure you to his sex dungeon of a dorm was an understatement. It was killing him to know that you were essentially forced into a vulnerable position, but when he brought it up to your professor, the old cunt-rag didn’t give two flying fucks.

“Professor Douglas, please,” Michael pleaded. “I really think it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you could make this exception this one time. I promise it has less to do with me and more for (Y/N)’s sake–”

But the ancient windbag wasn’t interested. “Whatever accusations you and Miss (L/N) intend to throw at Mister Catton, I am uninterested. Honestly, Mister Gavey, I expected this kind of nonsensical drivel from your friend, but to see you being caught in her schemes disappoints me greatly.”

Michael bit his tongue to choke down the tongue lashing he wanted to give. He wanted to tell this wrinkled ballsack about how the ‘fine Mister Catton’ basically assaulted you. He wanted to scream how worried he was when he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He wanted to shout how when he knocked on your dorm and entered, he froze and paled at the sight of you crying your eyes out until they were red and puffy. He wanted to roar out the fury he felt when you revealed to him the incident with Felix Catton that morning in the empty lecture hall. The very same one where Professor Douglas taught.

*TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SCENE FEATURES PAST SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND A DISCUSSION OF THE TOPIC, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THAT, PLEASE SKIP OVER*

“I couldn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “I felt like…like such an idiot! I just froze and stared and did nothing!' You started to cry all over again, and Michael wiped your tears with his thumb before holding you close to his chest. “Hey, hey, hey – it’s okay. Freezing and doing nothing are two different things. You were stunned by what happened, and your body reacted the same way – anyone who tells you differently is a liar.” You shook your head. “I couldn’t even speak…it was like my body – it ju-just shut off on its own. My brain kept screaming, ‘Let go,’ ‘Get off,’ or ‘Stay away from me!’ But I…the words and my voice just failed me when I needed them the most.” Michael blurted out the first thought: “(Y/N), you need to report this.” Your eyes shot open in fear. “Michael, no–” “Look, I know you’re scared, but this is assault. He touched your inner thigh, and you clearly didn’t consent – that’s sexual assault, or at the very least sexual harassment! If you report it, at least the campus police know about this and keep an eye out for you.” But you weren’t listening. “Nononononono—Mikey... that’s not how it’ll go down. Even if I report it, they won’t believe me.” “You don’t know that!” “But I do!” you cried. You shot up and started pacing across the room. “I do know because I’ve seen it happen! Almost every girl I knew growing up—it happened to them! At school, on the trains, some at their own homes! Whether they knew every detail of their assaulter or just saw just a patch of skin – it didn’t matter!” You weeped. “And if I tell the cops, they’ll just throw away the report because they’ll think that ‘all he did’ was touch my thigh. Consensual or not, I’ll be labeled as some fucking crazy man-hater who’s grasping at straws to ruin a fine young man’s life and reputation.” You collapsed back on your bed. “I just…I can’t deal that kind of shit right now. Not with…” you took a deep breath, “Not with everything that’s happening right now.” “…What can I do to help?” Michael hated how his voice cracked. He hated how completely useless he felt at that moment. More than anything, he wanted to march to the campus police and report it. But he knew that by doing so…he took even more control away from you by going behind your back. And then he would be a no better monster than Felix Catton. The idea of him going beyond the point of no return made him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. But when you touched his hand, all the tension flowed out of him like a creek. “You already did the best thing anyone could do for me right now,” you reassured him. “You listened to me. You cared enough to look for me when you felt something was off. You reached out to me and stayed and listened. And most of all…you believed me.” Michael felt his throat go dry. You looked at him with so much trust, as if he were the safest place in your world. He wanted you to look at him that way forever. “I’ll believe you,” he swore. “I’ll be there for you – no matter what. I promise. Whenever you need me, I will be there.” No words can describe the relief you felt from hearing Michael’s promise. When you entered Oxford's campus, you never expected to meet someone as endlessly loyal and trustworthy as him. You were prepared to keep your head low and remain friendless for the next four years. You were ready to spend the next 1460 days crying your heart out from homesickness and imposter syndrome. But somehow, near the beginning of your first term here, you met Michael. And you were so grateful for him. You leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. “I know. I know you will.” And you believed that with all your heart.

*TRIGGER SCENE END*

Michael promised you – gave his word – that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. But, fuck, this asshole was making it hard to keep that promise.

“Mister Catton is a fine young man…”

No, he’s not.

“…one whom I have full faith will end up as remarkable as his father and grandfather before him.”

They probably pulled that same shit, too.

“A man with a future as bright as his does not need some upstart with delusions of grandeur to dismantle an institution as fine as Oxford blatantly spewing out trash about him.”

It’s not trash.

“Unless it was something with proof and worth my time?”

Michael looked at his Classics professor with empty but enraged eyes. “…No, professor. It’s just a personal matter between me and Felix – (Y/N) has nothing to do with it. She’s just…protective, I guess.”

This surprised the sagging skin suit. “Hmm, well, that sense of loyalty from such a strange girl is surprising, to say the least – especially when you take account of her…troubling background as an American from that horrible city. But perhaps there is a chance of decency in her, after all.”

Michael’s right eye twitched slightly. “And what do you mean by her…background?”

“Oh, come now, Mister Gavey. She’s a New Yorker. That city is full of…of…gang-bangers and drug addicts.”

“Her dad’s a professor at NYU, and her mum works for the buildings that host Broadway shows.”

Douglas scoffed. “HA! New York University – what a joke. A campus that’s filled with hippies and no class. And Broadway? Of course, Miss (L/N) is connected to the theatre community. Now, if that’s all, Mister Gavey, I have an important meeting to get to with the chairman of my department. I trust that this matter is settled?”

No, not even close.

But all Michael could do was clench his fist over his backpack’s strap. He forced an unconvincing smile and tersely nodded.

“Yep, won’t get any more problems.”

When old man Douglas replied with his patronizing smile, Michael wanted nothing more than to knock out the rest of the tenured professor’s teeth with a fire hydrant.

So…no, Michael Gavey was not at all okay with the fact that you were with Felix Catton. He was not OK with the idea that you were within ten feet of that depraved vampire.

All he could do was be reassured you were in a very safe and very public space with lots and lots of people who could serve as potential testimonial eyewitnesses if Catton tried anything.

…Provided that Catton Sr. wouldn’t be able to pay off everyone, their third cousin, and their dog.

You wanted to die. You wanted to literally sink into the ground. You wanted there to be a sinkhole to open under you, swallow you whole, close up, and you would never see the light of day again.

…Actually, you wanted all those things to happen to your useless fuck of a project partner.

“Y’know, if you’re bored here, there’s a party going on at one of my mates’ flats not far from here.”

Felix moved to the seat right next to you and limply swung his arm over your chair. “So why don’t we–”

You shot up and moved one seat over. “Considering how we’ve been working on the research for almost two hours, and you haven’t gotten any work done,” you bit out. “Getting wasted and losing more brain cells isn’t the right call.”

Taking your open hostility as a challenge, Felix continued to move closer to you. “Exactly! We’ve been at this for two hours, and nothing got done!” His face was inches from yours, and you could smell the rank stench of craft beers and rancid cigarettes on his breath. “So, what’s the harm in having a bit of fun?”

Oh my – this is getting fucking ridiculous.

You started to pack your bags and gather all the borrowed books. “Parties aren’t my idea of ‘fun.’ And I already told my friend to meet me–”

“So bring him too! The more the merrier!”

You took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. “Our presentation is due in a week, Felix. One week to hand the paper in and present our topic to the class.” 

You swung your backpack over your shoulder. “I take my coursework very seriously, and to say it’s frustrating to have a partner who doesn’t take it as seriously as me would be a supreme understatement.”

“I think from now on–” a swift *RIP* echoed between them as you took a page out of your college-bound notebook. You quickly jotted down instructions for topics so simplified a child could figure it out, “– it’d be best if we work separately.”

Felix shot up from his seat with a panicked look. “Wait, now hold on – let’s not get hasty.”

“I already have a basic outline for the paper - I’ll type up the paper,” you continued while not looking at him. “All you have to do is find the books I’ve so nicely labeled on that sheet of paper I’ve given you.”

“Wha-what happens after I find them?” Felix stammered; his heart broke from how his time with you was so cruelly cut short.

But your tone and body language remained as rigid as it was apathetic. “You have my email, you have a laptop – figure it out, genius. We’ll meet up at a specified time and place; you hand me the books, and we move on with our very separate lives.”

You walked out of the crowded library and toward the nearby bench where you and Michael agreed to meet when he picked you up. You barely had time to sit down before you were bombarded with the presence of a much worse pest stuck to your shoe.

“You get off on bein’ a downright bitch?”

God, was every asshole trying to piss you off tonight?

You turned around with a prominent scowl that further deepened as your eyes took in the insufferable bastard who was clearly trying to pick a fight with you. You don’t know why you bothered to look for confirmation. You immediately knew who it was just by the sheer arrogance oozing from his tone.

As an artist, you had a special relationship with the color blue. In the summer, there was a point in the early mornings when it felt like the world was bathed in it. There was even a period when you were downright obsessed with it. You loved anything and everything blue: the sky, the ocean, hydrangeas, the Obrina Olivewing butterfly – but eyes, you loved painting blue eyes.

You thought of them as these warm, magical rarities that belonged to the stuff of fairies and Disney princesses. Of course, you also knew the popularity of the usage of blue with winter and death, but you never felt that duality…until now.

Because as much of a slimy bastard Oliver Quick was, you had to hand it to the guy…he was one of two people with some of the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.

Which gave you all the more reason to hate him. He made blue eyes look so cold.

 You clenched your backpack strap. “I’m not in the mood, Quick.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’d disagree – you’re always in a mood.”

“So stop talking to me,” you snarled, turning around. “And go away, Michael’s meeting me here soon.” You started to walk away when you heard Oliver speak again.

“I’m surprised he hadn’t dropped you left,” he maliciously quipped. “With you and Felix and all that.”

Your nails dug deeper into your backpack strap. “There is nothing between me and Felix – nothing at all.”

“Yeah, for now,” Oliver shook his head. “But you’ll be crawling to him with your hands and knees on the ground, worshippin’ him like he’s Hercules or Apollo.”

He leaned in closer from behind you. “And you’ll compare Gavey to Felix and look back and wonder ‘how the hell could I have missed being with Felix Catton over some pathetic’–”

Stop it. *clench*

“–unimportant–”

Shut. Up. *dig*

“– know-it-all –”

I hate you. I hate you. *pierce*

“– nobody.”

You turned around and dug your nails into his face as you poured every bit of rage and disdain for the single most insignificant person you’ve ever met in each word that came out of your mouth.

“Enough,” you roughly whispered. It was taking everything inside you to stop lashing out even further. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

“What? Plan to –” Oliver winced as you cinched onto his skin.

“Of all the mind-bogglingly,” *clench* “douche-like” *dig* “and despicable” *pierce* “crap you’ve spewed out,” you rasped. “Implying that I would ever choose as dull as Felix Catton over someone as rare and wonderful as Mikey has got to be one of the worst.”

“Do not push me any further, Quick,” You felt him tremble as you slowly released him from your grasp. “I’ve tolerated too much from you and the object of your obsession for far too long as is.”

You stepped back and gave the boy before you a good, hard stare. You never felt rage so deep, so demanding.

It was exhausting.

But you heard your name being called out from your left as you turned your head to see Michael waving to you with his arm high in the air. Had it been anyone else calling out your name, you wouldn’t have felt so quickly eased. You were about to move ahead to meet him halfway in the distance before Oliver’s voice stopped you.

“…What could possibly make him so special?” Oliver pathetically whimpered. “Why would you ever choose him when someone as bright as Felix is begging for you? Do you know what being with him means for you? What it gives you?”

…Was that it? Was that his best shot to get under your skin?

Looking at Michael, you answered him without meaning to.

“There’s no point in explaining it to you,” you calmly stated. “And I think you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

You picked up your stuff and left him alone with his thoughts. As you walked away to join your friend, you could feel his icy sapphire eyes digging into your back. Michael could feel how tense you were and asked if there was anything he could help with – but you waved away his concerns, stating that you had already wasted too much of your time with Felix and Oliver and didn’t want to waste anymore. Slipping your arm over his, you snuggled closer to his side and let the familiar scent of old math textbooks and coffee comfort you.

Oliver would make you pay for what you did – you’d be naïve to assume otherwise. He won’t do it directly, but it will happen. He’s the type to drink poison and expect you to die…only to learn too late that it worked as you lay on the ground bleeding and screaming your throat raw for help.

But right now, you were with your best friend; you two were going back to his dorm for a best friend sleepover, and it’d be enough.

…Yeah, it’ll be enough.

Oliver needed to make a plan – and fast.

Getting into your good graces was no longer a viable option for him; you made it annoyingly clear of that by the way you attempted to maul his face off. He gingerly touched the claw marks you imprinted on his cheeks as you tried to dig for his blood and bone with your nails. A corner of his mouth went up as he remembered your viciousness. He could practically taste the blood that nearly trickled down his cheek after you pierced his skin.

He hadn’t expected such a blatant display of violence from you, of all people, let alone on the campus’ hallowed grounds so near an establishment as ancient and crowded as the Bodleian.

For you, sweet, innocent (Y/N), to show such open hostility…to know he urged that beautiful, dormant impulsiveness to emerge…it thrilled him like nothing else. At that moment, he so clearly saw it. A darkness that was hidden deep inside you – bursting open from your carefully stitched seams. A deep desire for more in the dull, dull life God cruelly set upon you. Why else would a sweet, little all-American girl such as yourself travel all across the Atlantic to one of the most prestigious universities?

No, you were like him – exactly like him. Your reaction to his goading only proved that to him.

You weren’t used to it – that much was obvious…but that meant little to him. If nothing else, Oliver was resourceful. He’d learn more and more about what makes you tick before plucking you piece by piece into what he needed you to be for him. He’ll watch you explode before making you fizzle.

The idea of you at your fiercest – only for him to break it down bit by bit until all that was left was a more…subdued version of the hardheaded American girl from the Big Apple who loved to aggravate him during her first-year days at Oxford.

The thought alone made him salivate.

He could only dream how you’d be in bed. Your tight, hot little body would be squirming and writhing from the pleasure he and Felix bestow upon you. You, helplessly lying on your back while being fucked dumb by the two of them.

God, he felt himself getting hard at just the image alone – to make it a reality…that sort of victory, along with having Felix, would be nothing short of heaven for him. He unbuttoned his jeans as he took out his hardening cock into his hand. Not wanting to bother himself by starting slow, he immediately stroked himself with a rough and unforgiving pace. He wanted the pleasure from the fantasy to overwhelm him.

You looked perfect—replete, ethereal, and effervescent. Your entire body twitched as your eyes were blown wide, and drool dribbled down your chin. You put up quite the fight; the scratch marks on his and Felix’s chests proved that. But seeing you on your back on red silk sheets with your wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts made the struggle worth it. The red and pink bite marks that begin from the column of your slender neck down to your plush and tender inner thighs made for a prettier picture you could ever paint. “Oliver,” you pitifully rasped. “P-please, m’sorry – AH!” Your body jolted, and your back arched as he slapped your swollen clit. He struck his hand down one, two, three more times and watched as you thrashed and cried before another peak was forcefully ripped within you and came gushing out. God, how many times was it at that point? Three, four? It must have been quite a high number, judging by how tightly your cunt clenched onto his fingers when he thrust them inside you. “Look at her,” Felix cooed from behind Oliver. The Saltburn heir’s hulking frame towered over his lover as they watched their pet beg for mercy. “You almost feel sorry for her.” His hot breath panted into his ear as Oliver shivered in delight. The Quick boy gasped when he felt Felix’s large digits begin to enter his tight, puckering hole. “Take your fingers out,” he ordered. “And stick your cock inside her. You’ve been so good to me that I’ll let you fuck her sloppy cunt while I finger-fuck your arse.” Oh god, yes. Oliver took out his fingers and immediately positioned his hard cock at your leaking pussy as he spread your legs apart and forced your knees to press against your chest. “Wait,” you slowly blinked. “Wha…what’re you do–” Your back arched as Oliver pushed into you before thrusting into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears were streaming down your reddened, flushed face as ecstasy-laden sobs filled the room. “Good boy, Olly,” Felix praised as he continued to push his fingers inside Oliver while the nails of his other hand dug into his hips. He let out a ragged gasp from how Felix deliciously stretched him out. He started out slow before moving his fingers at a faster and steadier pace. “That’s it, Olly. You’re so good – so good to me.” God, the contrast between the firm grips and harsh thrusts with gentle whispers of sweet nothings was like nothing he had ever experienced. And it only made the pleasure of Oliver plowing into your weeping pussy while you cried like a bitch in heat feel too good to be true. “Oh, you’re getting so tight,” Felix groaned. “You wanna come, don’t you? You wanna spill your cum into our pet’s little cumdump hole, right?” “Yes,” Oliver rashly answered before snarling to you. “You hear that, you dumb slut? I’m going to cum in you, and you’re going to take it.” “N…not i-inside,” you begged despite your walls clenching tighter around his cock. “P-please not inside!” Oliver just laughed. “You want it – oh, yes, you do.” He released one of your legs to grip your jaw and forced you to stare at him. “Don’t bother denying it. Your body knows how a whore like you is just desperate for me.” He chuckled as he thrusts into you even harder than before. “Well?” “Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Oliver! Let me be your cumdump! I want your cum so badly!” Before Oliver and Felix permitted you to do so, you spilled onto Oliver’s cock, and the tightening of your walls, mixed with how deep Felix pushed his fingers inside him, made Oliver’s mind go blank – and soon, all he could hear was white noise.

Oliver slumped into his chair as a coat of sweat covered his entire body. Thick, white ropes of cum were still spurting out of his softening cock despite it coating his right hand. He ran his left hand through his dark curls as reality settled back in. Cold, bitter loneliness engulfed his body as he realized that you and Felix were not with him, and he remained as alone as before. A newfound determination to make his fantasy a reality soon took place.

His vision will be a reality. Felix will love him. And you will be their pet whose sole purpose in life is to take load after load of their pleasure.

But such things were too early to think about with how you were now. No…no, no, no…you were far too raw in your current state…too volatile…too stubborn…too American. He supposes it shouldn’t be too surprising that you latch onto fitfulness and inconsistency.

You were an artist, after all, and such was the fate of your kind to be destined to forever claw their way from the bottom as a means of survival.

But, however charming your unpredictability may have been in your concrete-paved, urban paradise that you call ‘home’ – that simply won’t do for him. He was more than confident that he could make you see things his way, but there were…problems needed to be resolved.

Namely, one in particular that came in ill-fitting apparel and bulky-framed eyewear – Michael Gavey.

Only an utterly blind idiot would miss how you pathetically secure your entire emotional well-being onto him. Oliver watched in total desolation and disappointment at how your glorious rage dissipated at the sight of him. But a part of him was equally as impressed at the mask you so expertly paraded, going so far as forcing your body language to adapt to the circumstances.

But…it wasn’t a mask, was it?

You looked at Michael Gavey the way he looked at Felix – complete and total worship. Michael Gavey, for whatever reason, was your sun, moon, and stars. The way you protected and so ardently adored him made the conclusion all the easier to reach.

Suddenly, it all became clear.

Of course…how did he not see it? The answer was so obvious. What better way to force you to his and Felix’s side…than to separate and condition you?

Isolation was a cruel and sadistic thing to thrust upon anyone – let alone who had so few friends in a foreign country like yourself. But he knew how much of an effective tool it could serve for him. Oh, it would be arduous initially – yes, it will. But it would all be worth it in the end. After all, in a way, this was your fault. If only you had complied with him when he was being nice, he wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic but necessary measures.

Oliver darkly chuckled to himself.

Yes…everything would turn out in his favor. He’d make sure of it.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz, @ma1dita, @jeondeluxe111, @itszzmoon, @wolfeginny, @mioshasworld, @bre99

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Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pray to my ancestors and beg for their forgiveness for writing Oliver's POV 🥲

[suugarbabe]

Rockstar!Sirius Black has me in a chokehold. I’m obsessed with my wife @finalgirllx and thankful for the work she put in for me for these two edits and I hope everyone is pulling their hair out at them as much as me.

This little blurb is for my second wife @thatdammchickennugget ‘s hogmarch challenge.

Prompt: fire whiskey / are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk

Warnings: fluff; mentions of bar/drinking;

You don’t really know how you got here. At this party that is. One day your muggle friend is begging you to come to a concert with her. Two weeks later she has you sleeping on a side-walk waiting to get in. “I really want to get barricade,” she says. And you love her so you comply. When you manage to get it, you’re just as shocked as she is. Arms crossed on the bar, elbows hanging over the barricade as music plays from the speakers while everyone waits for the band to appear.

You assume it’s a four person group; you see a drum set, a keyboard, a guitar with a mic stand and a bass guitar. You’re wracking your brain for the name of the band, your friends mentioned it probably a million times in the last hour alone but you’ve been so focused on not a Avada-ing any of the other millions of girls around who seem to want to keep pushing against your back to get closer to whoever this band seems to be.

It’s when the curtain falls that your heart nearly stops. It had to be a coincidence, right? The fact that this band happens to have the same name as the infamous group of pranking boys from your school years. But all your nervous fears are confirmed when they start strolling on to the stage, you recognize the others in an instant, but the one that catches your eye most intensely slings the guitar over his shoulder, a shit eating smirk gracing his lips as his tucks his hair behind his ear.

“Blimey, what a turn out, yeah lads?” The guitarist turns slightly where he stands, glancing at his friends behind him who are all nodding and shouting, pumping their fists in the air with the screams of fans in front of them. The guitarist turns back towards the crowd, eyes scanning over the sea of people until they come to the front and lock with yours. Your friend besides you starts shaking with giddy excitement as he speaks his next words into the mic, her arm hooking with yours. But you can’t tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze, “In case any of you’ve forgotten, we’re The Marauders and-”

Being barricade had its benefits because you heard the drummer shout, “Oi, Pads, get on with it, will ya, let’s give em a show, yeah?” Sirius laughs into the mic and your thrust back to being seventeen and pining after the long haired boy at the back of your advanced potions class. “Alright, Prongs, don’t lose yer head, mate. Who’s ready to fucking rock out?” Sirius strummed his guitar and the crowd erupted in cheers and screams. The entire concert was a bit of a blur. One because you didn’t know any of their songs, but two because it seemed like any time Sirius looked towards the front of the crowd, he looked right at you, and your friends and the girls surrounding you seemed to lose their mind at the concept.

When the concert finally ended you watched your old classmates take in the cheers and praise. James threw both his drumsticks into the crowd, Remus tossed a few picks as well. Reggie stepped from behind the keyboard, taking his setlist with him and passing it to the security guard to give to a random girl. Sirius, however, seemed to have a different plan. The girls around you seemed to be panting with anticipation as Sirius took a marker from a stage hand and laid down on his stomach, pulling the cap from the marker with his teeth before writing on his setlist on the ground. Capping the pen, he pulled the setlist off the ground slowly, folding the tape over the edges before folding the setlist into fours.

What really made everyone around you go into a frenzy was Sirius jumping down from the stage and walking straight up to you at barricade and holding the paper towards you with a smile. “Here,” Sirius grabbed your wrist, placing the folded setlist into your hand, “open it when you leave the venue. Was nice seeing you again, love. S’been too long since the last time.” Sirius then turned his attention to the people around you, shaking hands and signing a few autographs but it all sounded muffled to yours ears as it seemed like all the blood was rushing to your head as you were rushing out of the crowd, you friend close behind.

“Uhm, hello? Are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was back there?” You were walking as fast as you could without sprinting, your friend hot on your heels. “Y/n/n!” You turned abruptly to face her, her stopping roughly in her tracks. “What!” You were nearly screaming before taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, erm, I’m sorry. I just…I haven’t seen those guys in a long time and it was just a little…overwhelming.” Your friend nodded, the grin never leaving her face, “How do you even know them, can we open the letter now, what does it say?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the note from your pocket. Unfolding it you finally answered her questions, “We went to school together, believe it or not they were very popular and I was…well…not. I had a few classes with the others and well Sirius was…friends with some of my friends, let’s say. Honestly I didn’t even expect him to recognize me once I realized they were the band we were seeing and…” your thoughts and words seem to die on your lips as your eyes scanned the setlist in your hands, Sirius’s sloppy scrawl strewn across in black marker. Your friend raised her eyebrows impatiently, turning your hands towards her so she could see what had you at such a loss, a gasp leaving her as she did so. “Is that a fucking address…”

So maybe you did know how you got to this party, your friend begging and pleading until you agreed to go. “It’s only polite, he did invite you after all,” she had said. You knew her agenda was more so to gain an opportunity to see the boys up close, so you didn’t argue when as soon as you entered the private bar she immediately went on the hunt. You, on the other hand, went straight for a drink, or two, or four. You were working on yet another firewhiskey when a rough voice spoke your last name from behind you. Turning around, you attempted to control your blush, “Black. Long time no see.” You did your best to keep your tone casual, like your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest.

Per expected Sirius was nothing but charming and smooth, “I didn’t expect to see a friend in the crowd tonight, you caught me slightly off guard I have to admit.” You clasped onto your drink with both hands, hoping the coolness of the glass would offset the heat that was rapidly spreading through your body, “You consider us friends? I didn’t even think you’d recognize me.” Sirius’s gaze turned what you could only describe as tender, “I would’ve failed Advanced Charms if you hadn’t put up with me for two whole terms. If spending endless weeks in the library didn’t make us friends, what then developed between us, nothing?”

No, just my raging school girl crush on you is all. You shook your head, mouth opening and slightly stammering, no explanation coming to mind. “Pads, you’re not scaring y/n/n away are you? Gonna make us not see her for another three years again?” Sirius huffed a slightly annoyed breath, “Yeah, Moony, the reason we haven’t seen her is strictly my fault, not that our band took off or anything.” Sirius jabs a thumb over his shoulder as he glances back at you as if to say, the nerve of this guy. “She didn’t even think I’d recognize her, or considered us friends! Can you believe that?”

The taller boy greeted you with a warm and familiar smile, the scar stretching over his top lip thinning with the action, “Well I certainly don’t blame her for the latter. But we’re still friends, aren’t we, dove?” Remus took a step forward, wrapping you in a tight and friendly embrace. “Hi, Rem,” you mumbled just loud enough over the bar music. Remus was gruffly pulled away from you to reveal a pouting face with glasses and a mop of curly hair, “Not consider us friends? Did seven agonizing years of potions together mean absolutely nothing to you?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the dramatics, “Hi, Jamie. ‘ve missed you.” You open your arms for a hug and are quickly embraced in a bear-like squeeze, “Missed you too shortcake. Been too long.” A second body joins your hug from behind, “Yeah, it’s been too long.” James pushes him off before letting you go, “Whydya have to do that Reg, you ambushed my hug.” Regulus opens his mouth to argue when a throat clearing catches all of your guys' attention. You turn to see your friend clearly doing her best not to freak out at the scene before her. You turn the the boys, pushing your friend slightly in front of you, “Guys this is my friend Órlaith. She brought me to your show. Big fan, her. Órlaith, this is Reg, Jamie, Rem and Sirius.”

The four boys all flashed award winning smiles while your friend managed a meek ‘hi’ and a slight wave. “So you didn’t just have classes with them, you were friends with the fucking Marauders,” Órlaith wacked your arm, causing James and Regulus to burst out in laughter. Remus leaned in close to your friend, a hand shielding one side of his mouth while pointing a thumb back at James, “Y/n/n, here actually helped make sure this one graduated on time.” James crossed his arms in mock offense, “Is he talking shite love? Moony, don’t fill her head with lies we’ve only just met.”

Sirius slung his arm over her shoulder, whispering in her ear, “Actually, I’d like to catch up with Y/l/n. You mind if I steal her for a moment? Think you can watch these gits, keep them in line for me while I’m away?” She gave a timid nod and Sirius flashed her his knee weakening grin. Remus shot Sirius a knowing look, one you completely missed as you were too busy focusing on Sirius lacing his fingers in yours and dragging you towards a roped off section of the bar. You tried to will your palm to not be clammy as you downed the last of your drink, setting the glass on a passing table. As Sirius led you up the few steps and past the velvet rope he settled you both down at a table in the corner.

With a wave of his wrist the music and sound of the crowd disappeared. “See? A perfect silencing charm. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without your help in years past, friend,” Sirius emphasized the last word, wiggling his eyebrows. You laughed slightly, eyes rolling, “Yes, I’m very proud of you. However, that hasn’t stopped the gaggle of girls staring at us.” You motioned toward at least four women you could see clearly shooting daggers your way at a private talk with the leading man. Sirius shrugged his shoulders, eyes never leaving your direction, “I don’t care about them, my focus is on you.”

Your face seemed to stay in a permanent state of blush with Sirius’s full attention solely on you. “Now tell me, sweetheart. Did you really not consider us friends all those years? I mean, I thought we were pretty close. If I recall we’ve drunkenly fallen asleep on a few couches and floors together. Who else does that besides very good friends?” You nervously summon a drink before you, taking the glass and trying to hide half your face behind it while you take a long gulp. Your eyes scan over Sirius’s face, taking in the changes, or lack thereof, from the last time you saw him.

He still has that same boyish charm, that grin the tends to sneak onto his face when he knows he’s being charming. His hair is still gorgeous, long and flowing, though maybe slightly greasier than your school years, but you’re sure that’s part of his rockstar aesthetic. His forearms now adorn multiple tattoos and from what you know of Sirius there’s probably more hidden elsewhere. He had a few more piercings now, and his jawline was more refined now that he was no longer a teenager, but what remained exactly the same was always your favorite part of him; his eyes.

Sirius always had the most captivating eyes; a deep russet brown that seemed to change with his mood and whether he was telling the truth or not. Either that or you had just spent so much time staring at him you began to figure out his tells without anyone else realizing. “You’re telling the truth, you really considered us good friends didn’t you?” Sirius laughed lightly, looking down at his lap before meeting your eyes once more, “Yes, I’m telling the truth.” You shook your head, “That wasn’t a question, it was a statement, I can tell when you’re lying. I just can’t believe you’re being serious.”

“Well I’m always Sirius, darling.” You rolled your eyes at his favorite pun, going to bring your drink back to your lips. Sirius, however, had other plans, stealing to glass from your hands and downing the rest himself. You opened your mouth to scold him but he got his words out first, “How can you – blimey, love no mixer really? Merlin’s fucking beard – how can you tell when I’m lying? I like to think I’m quite subtle at hiding the truth.” You sat up a bit straighter, tucking your legs underneath you on the couch. Normally you would never admit anything, especially not to Sirius himself, but your filter seemed to be turned off thanks to the many firewhiskey’s now running through your system.

You leaned your elbow on the back of the couch, facing Sirius now with your head resting against your fist, “Your eyes turn a shade or two darker when you’re lying. Normally they’re just this beautiful deep brown color that looks like the sun is shining directly on them, even when you’re inside and there’s not even a window in sight. But when you’re lying it’s like all the mischief you’ve got cooking in your brain is overheating and it deepens the color.” If you weren’t feeling so tipsy you probably would’ve noticed the deep blush that spread over Sirius’s cheeks. But being himself he couldn’t let you stop there, “What else have you seemed to notice over the years, huh sweet girl?”

Subconsciously you knew you’d regret it in the morning, but your ability to stop your mouth from rambling seemed to be null. “You tend to chew on your top lip when you’re concentrating, not the entire thing, just one of the corners. You did it tonight during your guitar solo, which was actually pretty fantastic. I'm very proud of you, Siri. And I only noticed you do that because it’s different from other people, usually people bite their bottom lip, but you bite your top,” Sirius touched his top lip with his fingertips as you continued, “And I know when you’re laughing just to be polite and when you’re laughing for real because your fake laugh is this polite little chuckle where you nod your head to make the other person think you’re really paying attention, but your real laugh is so much better. You throw your head back, and your hair falls from your face and it’s real hearty and deep and your smile stays bright for moments afterwards.” You let out a long sigh, your eyes keeping this distance look to them like you were recalling an exact moment for each aspect you just described. “Merlin, I was just so in…I just had the biggest crush on you back then.”

Sirius blinked a few times in disbelief, shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts because there was definitely no way he heard what he just thought he heard, “I’m sorry, love. Are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk?” You scoffed slightly, “Excuse me?” Sirius quickly held his hands up in defense, “No, no! I just meant that – oh for Godric’s sake, I’m gonna muck this up I just know it–” You grabbed his wrists, effectively stopping his spiraling tangent, “Sirius!” He looked up at you, eyes meeting yours and just like you said, they looked like the sun was hitting them directly despite being in the back corner of a dark bar, “I never needed help with charms.”

Your face contorted in confusion, “Sorry, erm, what?” Sirius closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes once more, making sure you were looking back at him so you would see he was telling the truth, “I never needed help with charms, I would fuck up spells on purpose because I wanted to spend more time with you.” You shook your head, “But Remus said…”

“I lied to Moony,” Sirius cut you off, “Well, I tried to lie to him at first. I told him I was failing and I asked him to ask you to be my tutor but the bloody git knows everything, saying shit like ‘I know you’re at the top of our class Sirius meh meh meh’, so I asked him to lie for me.” You shook your head, “Why would you do that?” Sirius placed his hands on either side of your face, your hands still holding his wrists, “Because I had an insanely huge crush on you that I kept trying to deny and Moony could see it a mile away. I’m surprised you missed it with everything else you seemed to notice.” You smiled at him, a real genuine relaxed smile, then he spoke again, “Past tense probably isn’t the right usage. After seeing you tonight, I can humbly admit that all those feelings are very much still here. You believe me, don’t you?”

Sirius tilted your head up so you were looking directly at him. He widened his eyes dramatically, staring at you intensely and causing you to giggle. You squinted your eyes at him briefly, making it look like you were really studying him, “Hmm..clear as day. Yes, Siri, I believe you.” Sirius let out a long breath, “Thank merlin, because I’ve been dying to do this since I was on stage.” Sirius’s lips met yours with a gentle fervent, intensifying only when you fisted the front of his t-shirt, pulling him harder into you. You pulled apart only when you were short of breath, both panting heavily. “Remus is going to lose his mind,” Sirius chuckled, grin never leaving his face. You glanced over his shoulder, flicking your wrist and breaking the silencing charm only to be met with cheers and whistles so loud they floated over the rustle of the bar, “I think he already has, they all have.” Sirius turned, seeing his friends and bandmates making their way over. He turned back to you, a cheeky grin on his lips, “Okay, kiss me again, just once more before they get here. Once they do I just know James is gonna talk your ear off about the whole thing.” You giggled, biting your bottom lip before grasping the back of his neck, pulling his lips towards yours once more.

[redroomreflections]

The One Where R Burnouts

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

The Loud House Universe

Note: because having 6 kids, 2 dogs, 1 cat, a wife, in-laws, and working full time is crazy!

Natasha has always been observant; it’s in her nature to understand what’s happening around her. She knows everything about the human condition, including yours. As your wife and best friend, she notices the subtle changes before anyone else. It started with the little things. Your posture was slightly more relaxed than usual, shoulders dragging, eyes unfocused even during serious conversations. Then she noticed your eating habits. Back in law school, when you got busy, she’d remind you to eat, sneaking snacks onto your desk when you’d work late into the night. Now, she watches as you barely touch your plate, your attention fixed on the children instead, engaging with them while pushing your food around.

It’s the empty granola bar wrappers and the premade meal containers left on your desk late at night that concern her the most. You hated processed food slightly less than she did, so the sight of it scattered across your workspace is a surprise. A red flag she can’t ignore.

Then came the snapping. It wasn’t like you, not intentionally, at least. But these days, it seemed like everything irritated you. The smallest things—the mess the kids left behind or the sound of Natasha’s voice asking how your day had been—seemed to trigger something. Natasha could tell you had a million things on your mind. She’d catch you glancing at your calendar repeatedly, the tension in your jaw tightening with each passing minute.

And when night came, you barely made it to bed before falling asleep. The instant your head hit the pillow, you were gone, leaving no room for conversation, let alone the warmth of intimacy that had once come so naturally between the two of you.

Natasha had initially tried to brush it off to give you space, thinking you needed time to work through it. But the distance was growing. The laughter, the lighthearted teasing, the small touches, and stolen kisses—all of it seemed to be slipping away, and it scared her.

One evening, after tucking the kids into bed, Natasha found you in your office again, the door closed. She stood outside for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle, debating whether to give you more time or to finally say something. But she couldn’t wait anymore. You weren’t just burning out—you were burning away, and she was terrified of what might happen if she didn’t step in.

Gently, she opened the door. You were hunched over your desk, papers scattered around you, a half-eaten protein bar next to your laptop. Your hair fell into your face, and the tension in your shoulders made her heartache.

“Hey,” Natasha called softly. You didn’t look up, too focused on whatever task was in front of you.

“Babe,” she tried again, stepping closer and touching your shoulder. You flinched slightly at the touch, and that was enough to break something inside her. “You need to stop. Just for a little while.”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you muttered, brushing her off. But even to your own ears, it sounded hollow.

Natasha knelt beside you, taking your hands in hers, gently prying them from the keyboard. You tried to protest, but she held firm.

When she looked up, the tears in your eyes threatened to spill over. You stared back at her, exhaustion clear on your face, and she knew this wasn’t working.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Not for the two of you. After everything, you deserve to be happy and spend time together as a family.

But you were too stubborn, too determined to push through and help people in the way only you could. Natasha had admired that about you and had been amazed by the strength and passion you possessed. Yet you had forgotten about yourself in the process, and Natasha wouldn't stand by and watch you work yourself to death.

“Baby,” She said, licking her lips. It had been so long since she had heard you laugh."You've done so much for so many people. You've sacrificed more than anyone should have to." She paused, running her thumb across your knuckles. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, you hesitated. The words were there, at the tip of your tongue, but the truth felt raw, too vulnerable. So, instead, you shook your head.

"There's nothing, Nat," you replied, trying to pull away. “I’m just super busy these days. I want to get this report done for work. Cara has practice tomorrow, and I don’t want to miss it. Luke has an appointment on Thursday. I need a bit more time, and I’ll be done.”

"Stop." Natasha tightened her grip, refusing to let go.

She watched as you sighed, the sound breaking her heart. Your eyes were downcast, your lip quivering, and she could tell you were holding back.

“Natasha, I said I was fine,” You said lowly.

“Is that why you’re shaking like that? When’s the last time you slept a full night?”

You opened your mouth, the words catching in your throat. “Paige was up last night. She couldn’t sleep, so I sat with her.”

"You can't keep doing this," Natasha whispered, kissing your cheek.

You leaned into her touch, a tear sliding down your cheek.

"I'm okay," you murmured, but your voice trembled, betraying your true feelings.

“You’re not,” Natasha replied, brushing her thumb along your skin. Her other hand reached out to steady you. "Can you tell me why you’re running yourself ragged these days? Is work too much? Are we too much? Do you need a break? Tell me.”

Your shoulders dropped, and you looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"It's just-" You shook your head. “You know how I get sometimes. My mind gets a little busy, and I have do everything simultaneously. I’ll be fine.”

"No," she said firmly, leaning in closer. "You're not doing this, not now."Her voice softened. "Please, babe, just let me in. Whatever it is, I can help."

She waited, watching as the tension drained from your body. Your eyes were still closed, but a fresh wave of tears was rolling down your cheeks, and her own tears mirrored yours.

"I can't-I can't stop," You finally said, the words coming out in a strangled sob. "Nat, I can't-"

She pulled you close, letting you bury your face in the crook of her neck. You clutched at her desperately, and she held you tight, stroking your back soothingly.

"It's okay, I'm here," Natasha whispered.

The dam finally broke, and you sobbed, your shoulders shaking.

“There’s so much to be done constantly,” You whispered. “I don’t know why, but it’s the truth. Sometimes, I feel like I’m losing myself in all of this. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love our kids. I would never regret having a single one of them. Our life together is perfect. It’s just some days I just can’t stop. My mind won’t shut off.”

Natasha held you closer, letting the silence hang heavy around you. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. There was no simple solution. No quick fix that would magically make everything better.

“It’s selfish of me when you’re at home with them,” You leaned against her. “I’m working ten-hour days. I’m ten years into my career, and I’m still working this hard for some need to be the best at everything. The best mom, the best wife. The best friend. I don’t know how to turn it all off.”

Natasha ran her fingers through your hair.

"I just want to be good enough for everyone," you continued. "To make a difference. To matter. To do something."

She kissed the top of your head, her heart aching for you.

"You matter so much, baby," she said. "You matter to me. You're always enough."

She felt you take a shuddering breath, and she knew she had to say something, anything, to get you out of your head.

"We need a change. A vacation," she said. "Away from all this. We'll go somewhere. Just the two of us. Or just you if that’s what you need."

"Nat," You looked up at her, eyes wide and filled with tears.

"I want this to stop," She cupped your face, brushing her thumb over your cheek. "You deserve better. We deserve better. I won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. How can I help you?”

"Nat, I-," You swallowed thickly, and she waited, watching as you gathered your thoughts.

"I don't know," You admitted, leaning into her touch.

"You're not alone," Natasha whispered. "Never. We'll figure it out. Together."

She pressed her forehead against yours.

"You're so important to me, y/n" she continued. “Seeing you overwork yourself is scary. Please just take a moment. Come to bed with me.”

She pulled away, and you looked at her, a softness in your eyes.

"Will you lay down with me?" She asked. "Just for a little bit?"

You nodded, and she helped you, leading you towards the bedroom. You stopped in the doorway, your gaze falling on the messy sheets.

"I haven't had a chance to clean yet," You mumbled, looking away.

"It's fine, y/n," Natasha said. “We can sleep another night on these sheets. I’ll throw a load in the wash tomorrow.”

She guided you into bed, settling under the covers. She laid back, watching as you curled beside her, resting your head on her chest. You were warm and soft, and the feeling of your body against hers sent a surge of longing through her.

“I truly don’t know,” You began. “Where I can cut back. I just… I like being busy. I do, but it’s so difficult to breathe these days.”

She held you tighter, kissing the top of your head.

"I don't regret our kids," You said suddenly.

"I know, love," She whispered.

"But some days, I think about what it would be like not having them. What our lives would be like."

You paused. "Six kids. Six little lives in my hands. In our hands. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Natasha sighed, rubbing your back.

"I feel selfish for wanting to walk away sometimes," You continued. "For thinking maybe we shouldn't have had them all at once. Maybe it would've been easier."

"You're not selfish, y/n," Natasha murmured. "You're not."

"I love them, and I love being a mom," You said. "I do. I can't imagine life without them. But it's a lot."

Natasha brushed the hair away from your face.

"It is a lot," She agreed.

"Sometimes, I wonder how different things would be. If they weren't ours." You melt back into her arms. "If we had just decided after the miscarriage not to do it. To be happy being aunts to WIllow. Then my heart hurts. It aches so bad because I should be grateful. I should be thankful for all of this. I lost a baby. We lost our child. We got Cara. It was great. I was happy. Then we got the sibling set, and I thought we were crazy for being outnumbered..."

Natasha kissed your temple.

"But then Paige came. Then Luke."

"We wanted it, y/n" she reassured. "All of this. We wanted the kids."

"I know," You whispered. "But I also feel guilty sometimes."

"Guilty?"

"Yes," You admitted. "And I hate myself for thinking that. Because if I could do it all over again, sometimes I think I wouldn't have chosen this for us."

Natasha's eyes burned with tears.

"Why would you ever think that would hurt me?"

"Because you're not like me," You said. "You're strong. You've always been. I'm weak."

"You're not. Stop," Natasha chided. "You are the strongest person I know. I'm serious. Y/n, listen. You're allowed to have feelings. It's okay."

"I just want you to be happy, Nat," You sighed. "I want our kids to have a normal life. I don't want them growing up wondering why their mom is a wreck or that she regrets them. I don't regret them."

"They'll understand one day; if they don't, then it's not the end of the world. We have a lifetime to explain."

"What would we have done? If we didn't have kids?"

"Well," Natasha shrugged. "I'd like to think we would be somewhere fancy. Traveling whenever we want."

"What else?"

"Dinner, maybe," Natasha smiled. "Candlelit. Drinking wine. Slow dancing."

"That sounds nice," You sighed.

"We could do it now," She suggested. "I mean not the travel or the candlelight. But we could put on a record, eat, drink, slow dance."

"I'm a mess."

"We could take a bath."

"Okay," You breathed, closing your eyes.

Natasha leaned down and kissed your forehead.

Natasha smiled gently, her heart swelling with affection for you as she stood up. “Alright, then. Let’s do something nice for you,” she said, her voice soothing as she went to the bathroom. You watched her go, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of her, the way she moved with purpose, knowing exactly what you needed.

In the bathroom, Natasha turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature until the warm water flowed. She added a few drops of lavender essential oil, filling the air with a calming scent that instantly began to soothe the edges of your racing thoughts. As the tub filled, she turned her attention to the flickering candles on the edge of the sink, lighting them one by one until the room was filled with a soft, warm glow.

“Come here,” she called softly, her tone inviting. You pushed yourself off the bed, feeling the weight of the day still lingering in your limbs, but Natasha’s presence made it lighter. She stepped aside as you entered the bathroom, gesturing toward the tub.

“It’s perfect,” you murmured, taking a moment to appreciate the cozy atmosphere. You could feel the tension in your shoulders begin to ease as you stepped closer to the warm water.

“Just what you need,” Natasha said, her voice low and comforting. She reached out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering against your skin. “You deserve to unwind.”

With a grateful smile, you began to undress, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief as you shed the weight of the day. Natasha helped you step into the tub, the warm water enveloping you like a gentle embrace. You let out a soft sigh as you sank deeper, feeling the heat seep into your muscles, washing away the fatigue.

“See?” Natasha said, leaning against the tub's edge, her arms crossed as she watched you relax. “This is nice, right?”

You nodded, closing your eyes and letting the warmth envelop you. “It is,” you replied, feeling the tension slowly melting. “Thank you for this, Nat.” As she began to leave, you peeked one eye open. "You're not going to leave me alone?"

"I'll stay right here," she assured, moving to the corner of the bathroom and grabbing a fresh towel. She sat on the floor, facing you, leaning against the wall. She crossed her legs, draping the towel over her lap, a smile on her lips. "I'll be right here."

"I was thinking more along the lines of you climbing in," You arched a brow.

"Y/n, you know I love you. I would do anything for you, but I don't want to make it uncomfortable."

"Make what uncomfortable?"

"Well," Natasha gestured around her. "You're supposed to be relaxing."

"Are you worried that seeing me naked is going to give you the urge to jump my bones?"

"You have such a dirty mind, Mrs. Romanoff."

"I have a dirty mouth, too," You winked. "You know, sometimes, you're so sexy when you're not even trying. That's part of the reason why I married you. Not just because you're wonderful, smart, and talented, but you're so gorgeous that it makes my heart ache."

"Y/n," Natasha smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "You're sweet. You're lovely. But I think the hot water is making you a little loopy. Now, just relax."

"But I'm not done with my story."

"Tell me another time," Natasha insisted. "Just close your eyes and listen to my voice."

"No," You shook your head, sitting up straighter. "I'm not going to stop. Not until you get in this tub with me."

Natasha sighed, but there was a fondness in her expression. She knew you were stubborn and that you wouldn't let this go.

"Alright," she said, getting to her feet. "Let me grab another towel."

"There's no need," You replied, reaching out and taking her hand. "Just get in."

"Y/n," Natasha laughed. "This is a little awkward, don't you think?"

"It's not. Just get in. Come on," you tugged on her arm.

With a resigned sigh, Natasha undressed, carefully setting her clothes aside. Your eyes trailed over her, taking in her body's soft curves and subtle lines, admiring her smooth skin. As she slipped into the water, your gaze never left her, a rush of excitement filling you.

"See?" you said, moving closer to her. "Isn't this better?"

"Yes," she breathed, her cheeks flushed, her pupils dilated. She maneuvered herself behind you so you could rest in her arms.

You let out a soft moan as the water lapped against your skin, the warmth enveloping you. As Natasha wrapped her arms around you, her chest pressed against your back, the feeling of her skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

"Feels good, right?" Natasha murmured, her voice low and seductive.

"It does," You replied, your eyelids fluttering shut. "I want to be clear about something..." You murmured. "I've never regretted our kids. I've never regretted this life."

"I know."

"I do, but sometimes, I get in my own head. I know you're right there with me, holding me up, but I can't stop thinking. If I don't work hard, how will we have everything we need?"

Natasha kissed the side of your head, her hands resting on your arms.

"We can figure it out. You're not doing this alone, love."

"I know," You sighed. "But some days, it feels like that. Like I'm just treading water, trying to keep my head above the waves."

"I'm here," Natasha whispered, her voice full of tenderness. "Always."

You turned slightly, meeting her gaze.

"I don't want you to worry. About anything." She pressed her forehead against yours.

"I can't help it. I do," You said.

"We're okay, baby. I promise."

You closed your eyes, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you.

"How would you feel," Natasha breathed. "About us possibly getting a nanny?"

"Oh," You raised a brow. "I thought we visited that topic back in New York. It's why your parents moved in with us."

"While true, I think having another set of hands will take the load off," Natasha shrugged.

"What brought this up?"

"Well," She sighed. "You're not the only one that worries. I worry about you, how you feel. And I see how much you care for our kids."

"They're my whole world," You replied.

"I know. I'm not questioning your love for them," She reassured. I've seen enough lately that our work and sacrifices are worth it. We need to take care of ourselves first. I can't keep watching you destroy yourself over the smallest things."

"I'm fine, Nat," You shook your head.

"Please, babe, hear me out," She cupped your cheek. "You're a good mom and an even better wife. But it's okay to ask for help."

"We have the in-laws," You protested.

"Yes, and while they're amazing, they can't care for our kids daily."

"We're outnumbered," You frowned. "We said we would never be. They could overtake us any day now.

"Yes," Natasha chuckled. "I'm glad you're finding humor in this."

"Well, what can we do?"

"Let me look into hiring someone," She said. "We're not saying yes or no yet. I just want you to consider the possibility. If we get a nanny, it means less work for both of us."

"I'm the one having a mental breakdown, and you're home with them every single day," You looked into her eyes.

"It's okay to struggle," Natasha kissed your forehead. "You're human. You're allowed to not be okay. But you're not alone."

"Thank you, love," You whispered.

"Let me take care of you," She brushed her thumb across your cheek.

"Alright," You smiled. "We can look into it."

"We're going to be okay," Natasha said.

"I know," You replied, your heart swelling with affection for her. "Because I have you."

"Always."

The two of you sat silently for a moment, enjoying each other's company. The sound of the water gently lapping against the tub's sides was soothing, and the flickering candles cast a warm glow over the room. As Natasha traced lazy patterns along your skin, you felt the tension leaving your body, replaced with a sense of calm.