#the way these are the perfect pairs to put together for interviews is amazing too

[beelxebub]

very underrated six idiots interview wtf were they on about

[auras-moonstone]

can you write something of jack x shy!reader that are either working on a romcom together or she’s his interviewer?

hi! i actually really like how this turned out. hope you like it too💓

enchanted to meet you — jack champion

word count: 1,409

pairing: jack champion x fem!interviewer!reader

summary: y/n feels scared for her first job as an interviewer but jack’s warming demeanour makes her feel more comfortable as the interview goes on.

Y/N’S HANDS WERE SHAKY AND SHE CONSTANTLY HAD TO RUB THEM ON HER DRESS BECAUSE OF HOW SWEATY THEY WERE. To be fair, she was only 18 years old and doing her first interview. It was very sudden, she just started working on this known magazine and the woman who was supposed to go to the Scream premiere had an accident so they just sent the only person available: Y/N Y/L. And of course the person she had to interview was Jack fucking Champion—the six foot tall boy with unbelievable gorgeous factions and a killer smile.

Y/N was probably the youngest person in there. Everyone seemed to know each other and she was just there, alone and feeling extremely scared and anxious. She used to have a plan—start getting over her shyness with chill interviews so that in the future she could be ready to interview famous celebrities. But no, she was straight off sent to the premiere of one of the most successful franchises of all time. She was going to throw up.

The silhouette of the boy started to make his way to her “Hi!” his excited voice greeted her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting a very bright brown set of eyes. The boy was even prettier in person (and taller). He was wearing a white tank top below his stylish black jacket and black trousers. He was so handsome. And did she mention he was really tall?

“Hi, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts” she apologised, her cheeks already turning red. That was a typical feature of her—always expect her to blush, her blood always betrayed her.

Jack was instantly enchanted by her sweet and soft voice. He had never felt so nervous during an interview—probably because he had never been interviewed by someone his age, and certainly not by anyone close to being as breathtaking as her.

“It’s okay” he assured her, his smile so shiny it almost blinded her.

Y/N smiled thankful “First, I’d like to congratulate you on your movie! I got to see you on Avatar and thought you did an amazing job. It’s fantastic that you got to work in such iconic franchises! Were you a fan of the Scream movies before getting the role?” her voice, thankfully, didn’t show how insanely nervous she was. But the hand holding the mic certainly did. Jack noticed her shaky grip, and he wanted so bad to put his hand on hers to comfort her, but he knew it would be too much.

“Thank you so much, you’re really sweet. And yeah, it’s honestly a dream come true” Jack pulled his dazzling smile and Y/N couldn’t help but take a quick look at it. He had perfect teeth, holy shit. “I watched the movies before we started filming and I absolutely loved them!”.

“Can I ask who your favourite Ghostface is?” Y/N questioned him. Very original, Y/N, she said to herself. Why did they hire her? She was really not qualified for this.

“Oh, I love that question!” Jack exclaimed. “You know, I always say Stu but now that I have re-watched the movies and read some opinions online, I also really like Jill! What are yours?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, she was not expecting him to ask her questions. It wasn’t usual during interviews for reporters to be questioned “Oh- I- I think Roman, Stu and Jill” she answered nervously. His eyes were so strongly focused on her that she almost melted on the spot.

“Roman is also a really good choice. You have great taste! And by the way, I love your outfit” Jack complimented her, looking at the black dress—it was like the one Courtney Cox used at the beginning of Scream 2. Y/N stood still. Did he know the effect those words had on her? Because she was two seconds away from collapsing.

“Thank you for saying that… your outfit is amazing too” she brushed it off with a little laugh.

“Thank you! Look, I have ghostface socks!” he said in an enthusiastic tone. She look down to see the black socks with patters of the mask and couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s adorable” the comment slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. But far from being uncomfortable, Jack’s smile grew bigger. “Did you all know who was playing Ghostface from the beginning or was it something you found out towards the end of the shooting?”

“Actually, we didn’t know who would be playing Ghostface until the revealing scene” he answered, and admired the way her eyes shone in awe. “I take it you are a really big fan of the franchise”.

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, feeling a bit embarrassed “Is my enthusiasm that readable? I’m sorry, I literally grew up watching those movies”

“And now you are at the premiere interviewing the cast! That’s amazing!” he exclaimed loudly.

His happy aura was really contagious and it made her feel a little less shy “Well, thank you, Jack. Do you have any future projects?”

“Yes! I actually did a movie with Liam Neeson that will be coming out soon called Retribution and another one called Freaky Tales! So yeah, I’m very excited” he balanced on his feet.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations” Y/N gave him a genuine smile. Then they heard someone calling his name, telling him it was time to go. “Thank you for you time, Jack. Hope you felt comfortable”.

“I did! It was fun, and you were excellent” Jack smiled down at her. The team kept calling him but he wouldn’t move, trying to decide if he should just ask for her instagram or if it would be too weird. Maybe she had a partner, god he hoped not. Before he could even ask her name, Mason came to him and grabbed his arm.

“Jack, we have to go” his friend told him. Jack sighed, waving at the beautiful interviewer and cursing himself for not being quick enough.

Y/N turned around, ready to walk back to the van, completely wonderstruck by the charming young actor. She just prayed that wasn’t the last time they saw each other.

THE INTERVIEW WENT VIRAL IN LESS THAN AN HOUR, AND EVEN FOR A FAMOUS COMPANY, IT WAS UNEXPECTED. The people were going wild on the comment section, pointing out how the actor looked at his interviewer in complete amazement. No one would have thought it was going to have such a repercussion. Especially not Y/N.

championslover man was in AWE

liked by masonthegooding

landrydaylight pls the way he looks at her i need them to be together!!!

liked by masonthegooding, jennaortega, baileybass, jamieflatters and more.

haunted.ethan “look, i have ghostface socks” really jack??? 😂😂😂

devyn_nekoda i can’t believe he said that omg

jackchampion I WAS NERVOUS OKAY LET ME BE

ghostfacelandry the evolution on this two min interview was so heartwarming??? like she was really shy at first but then you could tell she got used to his presence omg i adore them

jacksrep the way she blushes!! girl is honestly strong cause i would’ve passed out from having him in front of me

spiderboyjack let’s go to the important thing: does anyone have her insta????

championslover i just found it, it’s y/n.y/l/n (holy shit she’s so pretty!!!)

jacksgf oh jack… i get it now!!!

jackchampion championslover thank you for your service 🫡

championslover oh he’s down BAD

liked by jackchampion

jackchampion started following you

Y/N stared at the notification in shock. And then her heart stopped when she saw another notification, this time it was a direct message.

hey! it’s jack

i really wanted to get your instagram the day of the interview but honestly i was too scared

hi jack!

well, i’m glad your fandom (who honestly should be called by the fbi) found it.

hahaha me too tbh

and i’m going to be forward, i can’t stop thinking about you ever since the interview and it was killing me that i didn’t even get your name (by the way i’m praying you don’t have a partner).

i can’t stop thinking about you either (nope, i’m single)

you made me feel really comfortable, and that is not something i can say about a lot of people… especially not those who i talked to for two minutes

i don’t know.. you give that special kind of vibe very few people have

you know how to make someone blush ☺️

i heard it was your first interview. i can’t believe it, you were amazing!

thank you! i was so nervous but it could’ve gone way worse

you made it easier, you were really sweet

i’m glad i was your first interview then :)

i was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow? i’d really like to get to know you better

i would love to, jack!

great! send me your address and i’ll pick you up at seven.

can’t wait 🤍

me neither😫 wanna facetime???

sure! text me xxx xxxx

[fourseasonsfigs]

Zhongpei

Careful, this flirty cutie packs a mean punch!

This set is amazing on so many levels. This fig maker's designs always lean towards saucy, and this is no exception!

The name of the fig set refers to the Junzhe Extended Universe pairing of Zhong Wumei and Pei Yuntian.

Gong Jun plays Prince Zhong Wumei in Unique Lady. Here he is dressed as a beautiful young woman in order to lure out and capture some evildoers.

This clip is hilarious and has the bonus of being English subbed. It's definitely worth watching!

The imperial doctor Pei Yuntian is Zhang Zhehan's character from Cosmetology High.

The title listing of this video calls him a cute and handsome little villain! I didn't realize he was a bad guy here, I thought he was just a palace schemer. I definitely need to watch this.

Our sassy figs came carefully packaged in their custom polystyrene foam. Luckily, they arrived perfect! I was a bit worried that Wumei's gorgeous hair ornaments might not survive the trip, but thankfully they did.

The fig maker also included a sticker sheet! This was supposed to be a special first-in gift for the first set of buyers (which I was not), but people were so upset to miss the leg hair that she included them for everyone.

We have some different thicknesses of leg hair - from the top (MTL) is "ordinary short", "low profile short", and "wild long section". Outstanding. We also have some great other stickers that are definitely very multipurpose for Junzhe figs!

These aren't regular stickers like I'm used to. They are backwards, like transfers, and there's a clear protector sheet over them you have to peel off. I tried press-sticking one on Wumei, but it didn't seem to work.

Thankfully, my best fig friend helped me out here with her quality advice. These are water stickers, which means they are like temporary tattoos - you get them wet, and then stick them on the fig, and then after a bit you gently peel off the backing. I would never have puzzled this out!

Alright, before we start with Wumei, let's get a still of this fantastic look for comparison purposes...

Gong Jun is stunning dressed as a woman. Beautiful people are just beautiful! I can't help remembering how one of the interviewers at the SHL concert had previously gushed to Gong Jun about how pretty he was dressed up as a woman (and ahaha, Zhehan's face during their concert interview segment!). May I just also note how gorgeous his fingers are here.

Our extremely flirty prince came with a very saucy fan that is not the fan in the still above! You can see it if you zoom in, but fair warning if you're on public transportation or something, it's very scantily clad chibis having a grand ol' time together (it's only like 2 fire emojis on the Fig Spice-o-meter scale, but still nothing I'd zoom in on a crowded bus while an all-too-curious seat mate looked on, for instance). I was going to take a closeup of it for you, but I ran way out of picture space. There's some closer pictures below you can zoom in on.

Here he is, all coy and delicate and flashing some leg. A very smooth skinned leg, without even "low profile short" hair, as these photos were taken before BFF help. Never fret, loyal figthusiasts, keep on scrolling!

Two leggies! And a great look at the hairstyle. That butterfly pin is so pretty.

And here we go - a full shot of the beautiful pin and the hanging ornament off of it. So pretty! Wumei likes to pull his hair over his shoulder and stroke it playfully when acting flirty, so here we have his hair over his shoulder.

You can see a bit of the very complex piles of hair that Wumei is wearing in the still. You'll also notice he seems to be leaning pretty aggressively over to the side, which is by design, as he's putting up his dress.

This full back view really shows the hair in it's complicated glory!

Ooh, this is a good shot of one of his earrings. They are clip-ons in the show.

CUTE. The fig maker did such a great job with the eyes here. You can also start to see some of the flowered pins here.

SO CUTE. Look at this! Amazing. Here you can see how he's holding his dress up too.

I flipped the fan over here so you could see the other side is a plain gold. If you can't have frolicking chibis in the house, this is a very pretty look too!

He is wearing frilly knickers! I am just so delighted by this fig, I can't even tell you.

The frills were too amazing to not show you both sides.

Speaking of amazing, here's his hair ornaments in all their glory.

And from the back, looking down and forward. Yikes, I'm going to run out of my 30-pic post limit at this rate! Time for Pei Yuntian.

Yep, he's drool-worthy indeed. No jury would convict you, Pei Yuntian!

The hands are just beautifully molded on these figs - really great detail. I love the bit of a cat-eye line he has going on at the corner of his eyes here.

I like the nice wide sleeves. I haven't seen this show, but I have seen a lot of Pei Yuntian figs, and this outfit is pretty classic.

Speaking of classic, the rabbit-ear hat is the same on every fig so far! It's very distinctive.

I assume this is a herb-gathering basket, just given that he's a doctor in the show. However, like I said, I haven't seen it, so take this with an enormous chunk of salt.

I regret photographing this on a white background! I should have done it on a colorful one so you could see the detail better.

It's a pretty outfit though. Very billowy and a pearly white, which gives it some nice visual interest. This fig maker likes pearlescent paints on her figs.

Look at that blush! Too cute - the eyes here are just wonderful.

Much plainer here on the underside for Pei Yuntian. Yikes, I really am almost out of picture allowance!

AHAHAHAHAHA. I'm back here to report on the leg hair water transfer sticker and it is FANtastic.

First off, major credit to my BFF, the water transfer worked perfectly. I cut out the stickers, peeled off the protective plastic, grabbed an end with a tweezers, and ran it under water. I stuck it on the leg and kind of tapped it around. I didn't even have to wait, I just peeled it off!

This is actually three of the "low-profile short", since I put one on right in the middle and it looked a little patchy. So I did one above and below, and here's the result! I picked the lo-pro since we are just fresh off of Gong Jun's Cosmo Body Issue mag shoot, and well, he's very well groomed, so I had that in my head when I picked.

I am now maybe kinda regretting not going with the "wild and long", but I'm really happy with it! I actually burst out laughing when I took off the last sticker, it's hilariously funny and I couldn't stop chuckling as I took this picture! Now I wish I had done this before taking all the pics, but this one is good enough. Hehehe, I'm still giggling to myself!

I love it SO MUCH, it's ridiculous and silly and perfect!

This set actually came with a printed box with the same artwork, but I'm all out of picture space! It's just the same artwork on the box card, nothing different.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 291

Scene Count: 22

Rating: Zhong Wumei, so enchanting! His Highness is so pretty!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[silver-tongued-bby]

Could you do one of loki in a tattoo parlour with the quote "if you keep moving like that we will have a problem." With smut please? Thought the reader could be getting a tattoo across the shoulders and loki is sat right against her ass and whenever he hits a soft spot she wriggles her ass or even moans, if that's okay. I love your writing by the way! ❤

Well this ruined me. Tattoo artist Loki?!

Thank you so much for your kind request and for bringing tattooed Loki into my life! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did putting it together 🖤

This fic is a part of A Dark Celebration.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Loki x fem!Reader

Words: 6,256 (I couldn't stop, okay!)

Summary: After a stroke of luck, you manage land an appointment with the legendary tattoo artist, Loki Laufeyson.

This is work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains graphic descriptions of sex, HOURS OF TEASING, fingering, sex (m/f), dirty talk, and it mentions the tattoo process aka needles. Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.

Tagging: @lokistoriesblog @sineads-art

Thank you so freaking much to my followers for all of the amazing requests for this challenge! Likes, reblogs and comments mean more than you know 🖤

~~~

You scrolled through the instagram page for the tenth time that day. You peered over the intricately laced designs tattooed so delicately on the skin. Each design was unique, beautiful, perfect in an imperfect way.

No one could hold a candle to the way he tattooed. No one could hold a candle to Loki Laufeyson.

~~~

“The guy’s a vampire,” your friend had told you over drinks once. “He only takes appointments at night, alone in his private studio. He refuses to let anyone in his space except the client.”

“Sounds like more of an axe murderer to me,” you mused. “You’ve got to admit he’s talented. I’ve never seen even a hint of blowout on his lines. And those designs- unique and seriously fucking detailed.” You took a sip of your drink, shifting the glass between your fingers. “If I ever got a tattoo it’d be one of his.”

Your friend smiled pitifully at you. “If you ever get an appointment you mean. He is good though. I’ve seen some of his work from over a decade ago and it still holds up. May be worth being drained of all your blood after all. Too bad he rarely takes appointments anymore.”

~~~

You bit your lip, absentmindedly toying with the raw hem of your shorts as you tapped through the familiar photos of his page. You’d almost memorised each post.

You swiped up to the one you saw by chance a few weeks back. Your heart raced as you remembered seeing it mere seconds after it was posted. He had a cancellation for an appointment at the end of the month. You could book via email.

You immediately shot off an email to the address provided, assuming nothing would come of it. Then the unthinkable happened. You got a response about a minute later, asking for a deposit to hold a spot for you.

You had the money saved for a few years now and forwarded it off immediately. It wasn’t real until you got the scheduling email from his assistant, telling you that “he’d love to freehand something like that on you.”

He’d never posted a photo of himself, and there weren’t any snapshots in the range of magazines he’d been interviewed in. The only posts on his page were of the work he’d done on clients, and the odd text post update presumably posted by his assistant. There was one particularly good shot of his hands in Inked Mag a few months back, the black gloves straining against his long fingers as he held a tattoo gun.

You took a deep breath, checking the time again. You could probably head over now.

Zipping up your knee-high boots and sliding on your jacket, you left your apartment, your stomach full of butterflies.

~~~

You made it to the painted brick building five minutes before your appointment. It was a stand-alone, one-floor building painted black. The tinted windows and lack of sign made for a stylish, discrete shop.

Double checking the lengthy email his assistant had sent you a week ago, you typed in the code on the keypad and were met with a loud buzz. Gripping the door handle, you stepped inside, greeted by a space that was breathtakingly well designed.

The cool concrete floors were accented by various sculptures, photographs, and expensive-looking plants. You could hear the distant sound of Joy Division’s “Disorder” echoing through the space. There was a dark brown couch by the front door, which you remembered was the area you were instructed to wait in.

You slid onto the leather, your hands clammy. You tried to calm yourself, nervous for both your first tattoo and finally meeting the elusive Loki Laufeyson. You took a deep breath. God you hoped you didn’t faint.

Before you could spin out any further you heard footsteps coming around the corner. Looking up, you swallowed hard at the man in front of you. He was tall, lithe, and dark-haired, his black trousers and pointed leather boots making his legs look endless, his crisp white shirt tucked in perfectly. His sleeves were rolled up to expose forearms covered in tattoos, all in black ink. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a fair amount of his chest, littered with more black designs that ran up to his neck, stopping just below his sharp jaw. You could make out the tip of a green tattoo at the base of his sternum though you didn’t dare to linger your gaze there long. His hair was slicked back into a low bun, the dark black of it a sharp contrast against his pale skin. His cheekbones were pronounced, his dark brows accenting his clear, blue-green eyes.

“Are you my seven o’clock?” His voice was deep velvet, his accent crisp. He held his hands in his pockets, forearms flexing as he looked down at you with bright eyes and a hint of a smirk. Fuck. You were in trouble.

“I think so,” you smiled, losing yourself in his gaze.

“Loki,” he offered a hand and you stood to take it. You stumbled over your name as your hand slid into his, the feel of his warm, calloused hands against yours made your heart race.

“Nervous?” He asked, his eyes running up from where he held your hand steady.

Fuck.

“A bit,” you smiled. “This is my first time.”

His eyes widened at that. “I’m honoured. It’s not often someone asks for such a big piece for their first tattoo.”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it from his grip. “This way, darling. Promise I’ll be gentle.” He gave you a grin before leading you towards the back of the building behind the large wall separating the shop.

You took in the room before you, the open space well-decorated with modern, comfortable-looking furniture. There was a sturdy, sleek tattoo bed in the middle, with a large trifold mirror against the side wall. Your eyes fell onto the record player, the antique thing holding a stack of vinyl discs above the turntable as it spun. The large speakers were playing “Candidate” off the same album. There was a Japanese style garden through the back window, a warm light illuminating the few plants immaculately kept before a dark concrete wall.

“You’ve eaten recently, right?” He asked from behind you.

You turned to him and nodded, remembering the advice your friends had given you to prepare for the process. “I’ve kept hydrated too.”

He smiled. “Good girl.”

You did your best to ignore the way those two words made your heart race. You made your way to the centre of the room where a sleek tattoo bed was set up. The black padded leather of it looked soft and comfortable, covered in a dark sheet.

“Take off your top half and lay down on the table. Leave those boots on if you want,” he paused. “I’ve got a sheet there for you. I’ll give you a moment to get undressed, okay?”

You turned towards him and noticed his eyes flickered up to your face. Had you just caught him checking you out? You quickly shook it off as you gave him a small smile and a nod.

He spun on his heel and his footsteps followed him out of the room. You slipped off your jacket, your top and bra quickly following, placing them with your bag on the seat by the wall. You laid down on the sheet covering the bed and perched your head atop your folded arms, angling it to look out the window towards the garden. You took a breath, feeling your muscles loosen on the exhale.

After a minute you heard his footsteps approaching. “Are you decent, darling?” He called.

“You’re clear.” You watched him approach from the reflection in the glass. You could see his eyes moving over your form and wondered once again if his gaze had lingered a little over you.

He came to your side, pulling on some black surgical gloves. You looked up at his hands, straining against the nitrile of the gloves. Just like the picture. You squirmed a little at the thought.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered down to your waist momentarily before he sat in the stool facing you.

“I’m going to have to shave the area first. Is that alright with you?”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

You heard a cap snap a few seconds before you felt his hands rubbing over your shoulders, covering your skin with shaving cream. It took you every bit of will not to moan at his touch. His hands felt like heaven on you. You felt yourself grow wet at the idea of his sinking his hands lower, or having you turn over and-

“Okay, so you mentioned in your email that you wanted some snakes and peonies. Do you have colour preferences? Any type of snake in mind?” His hands were gone, replaced by the feeling of a safety razor dragging across your back.

You licked your dry lips. “I was thinking of a deep red for the peonies. As for the snakes, I don’t know- really anything but a garden snake I suppose.”

He chuckled. “I was thinking of something a little more dangerous.” The movement of the razor stopped. “How’s this?” He showed you a photo on his phone, a brown snake with black stripes going from its wide, flat head to its skinny tail.

“She’s a beauty,” you angled yourself up slightly to get a better look, your front still mostly covered. “What species?”

“A death adder. Nocturnal,” he put his phone down then rubbed your back lightly with a cloth. “Quick to strike, it’s one of the most venomous snakes in the world.”

You looked up to give him a curious grin. “What made you choose this snake?”

“You seem like trouble.” He met your gaze momentarily and smirked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Tough talk from the guy who’s about to jab me with a needle for four hours.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “You’ve got me there.”

He stepped around to the other side of you and you heard him uncap a marker. You could feel him start to mark up your back, one gloved hand firm against you. You could smell the slightest hint of him, a combination of something peppery and deep, almost cool.

“So what made you decide to get a tattoo?”

“I’ve always wanted one,” you closed your eyes, focusing on his movements. “But I wanted to find the right artist and commit, you know? Let them run with something.”

“A purist,” he commented, sweeping a line across your shoulder blade.

You smiled against your hand. “I guess I like what you do, and I like how you do it.”

“So,” he guided one of your hands from under your chin, laying it by your side. “How does it feel to be the ideal client?”

“Hmm, pretty much the same. Do you have any gold stars?”

He chuckled, sketching more lines on you, these ones felt curved. He sighed, “that’s why I stopped taking so many appointments.” He came over to the other side of you. “I love tattooing,” another stroke, his other hand smoothing down your spine, “but I don’t love customer service.” He swapped your arms, bringing your left down by your side.

“I get it,” you suppressed a shiver from the feel of his hands running over your back. “And now?”

“Much calmer. I take a maximum of four clients a week,” you stilled at the feel of his breath over your shoulder, his pen stroked focused. In the reflection of the glass you could see his form bent over you. You swallowed hard. “I can take my time with it and do things right. Speaking of which,” you heard him cap the marker, “time to take a look.”

You sat up, holding the sheet to your front as you followed him over to the set of mirrors. He guided you onto a wooden step in the middle, and you caught a glimpse of the lines he’d drawn on you. He angled one slightly and your mouth fell open at the sketch of the two snakes, one over either shoulder, their tails intertwining between your shoulder blades. He’d drawn rough peonies and leaves to accent their shape, already beautiful and complimentary to your form.

“Wow.” You turned, catching his eye. He was leaning up against the mirror, hands in his pockets as he watched you, the tiniest hint of something simmering behind his gaze. “I love it, Loki.” You found it hard to keep your cool as you faced him, knowing he’d just sketched out an insanely beautiful design in under 10 minutes.

“Thank you, darling. Are you ready to start?” He held out a hand for yours, helping you off the polished step.

“More than.”

He led you back to the table, bringing an angular pillow wrapped in black silk for your front. He helped you prop yourself up so you could lay comfortably.

He pulled a stool over to your side, adjusting it before pulling on a new pair of gloves and turning to squeeze out some blank ink into a little cup on his side table. He picked up the tattoo gun, adjusting his setup so the cord would allow him more reach.

His eyes searched yours. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You nodded and filled your lungs with air.

He turned and the gun started to buzz. In your periphery you could see he’d brought it closer to your skin. “Breathe out.”

You did as you were told and felt a vibrating little scratch on your shoulder, almost as if a cat was scratching your skin. It got a bit harder but it wasn’t unbearable, more annoying than painful.

“Good girl.”

You took in another deep breath at that, the velvet of his voice pushing the feeling further away. You could feel him leaning over you, one hand firm on your back.

“You’re doing so well,” he spoke by your ear, eliciting goosebumps. With that voice, he could talk you into anything. “It doesn’t hurt too much, does it darling?”

You shifted a little. “No,” the distant pain and his voice drawling in your ear had your breath uneven. You bit your lip, feeling yourself grow wet from the combined sensations. “It doesn’t really hurt at all.” Your voice sounded small in your ears.

“I promised I’d be gentle,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Try to relax a little more, and keep your eyes forward for me. That’s it, right there. Perfect.” He whispered that last word and you held in a little whine.

You let your eyes slip closed, trying to focus on something other than him- his hands, his scent, the warmth of his body radiating against you.

You fell into an easy conversation through the outlining process, though every now and then he’d come a little closer to tell you something, his breath on your shoulder forcing you to grip the pillow harder. Each time he whispered a word of encouragement in your ear you could hear a hint of a smirk in his voice, as if his comments weren’t entirely innocent.

“And,” he added another long line above your shoulder blade, “there we are. Lovely.” He looked at you from his stool, smiling and nodding. “Let’s take a break.”

He got up, stretching as he went, discarding his gloves, massaging his hands. He stepped over to the record player, the stack once elevated now fully on the turntable as it spun. “What kind of music do you like?” He asked, flipping through the shelves full of records in the back.

“A little bit of everything, really. Wait, is this a test?” You asked, rolling your neck to relieve some tension. You took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself after the past hour or so. You could feel how wet you were as you rolled your hips a bit, working out one of the many knots your body had formed while trying to hold yourself still. You sighed.

You looked back over to him, he was leaning against the shelves, the stack in his hand frozen in place as his gaze slid along your body. You gripped the pillow a bit, your heart beating fast. His eyes met yours and he smirked, his forearms flexing as he continued to flip through the catalogues. “No test, just wondering if you’d like to hear something specific.” He kept flipping through records, choosing one every now and then to rest on top of the growing stack elevated above the turntable.

“I guess if I could put in a request with the management, I’d ask for a little Warpaint.”

He smiled before he turned to pull out a record, flashing the cover at you. “Management says good choice.”

He placed the vinyl on top of the stack then flipped the switch, the machine dropping the bottom record onto the turntable. He came back over to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, a little stiff,” you stretched your shoulders back, feeling your muscles loosen a bit.

“Let’s move you,” he nodded towards an angled chair, and your rolled up off the bed, wincing at the distant ache in your body. You loosely held the sheet to your chest, still rolling your shoulders as you settled into the seat, your chest supported by the leather platform in front. The new position definitely felt more comfortable, and you felt your muscles relax into the support of the chair.

Loki came up behind you, lowering his stool to be level with the seat. “Here,” he handed you a glass of orange juice. “Drink this. I’m going to put some numbing cream on you before I start the colour.” He carefully rubbed some cream onto your skin with his gloved hands. You shivered lightly, the pain fading almost immediately as you drank the juice.

“Good girl,” he nodded, taking your empty glass from you. “I won’t lie to you,” he got to work assembling reds, greens, browns, and orange inks from a cabinet. “Shading and colour usually hurts a bit more.” He brought over a sterile package, opening it and holding it up between you. “I need to use a few more needles.” The cluster looked menacing but you nodded. How bad could it be?

He gave you a reassuring smile once you met his gaze. He turned to assemble the dyes in more small cups, and swapped out the head of the tattoo gun with the needle he’d shown you. He wrapped everything back up in sterile cloth and tape. Before moving his setup closer to your new position and settling in his seat by your side.

He turned to you, his face level with yours. He was close, his gaze travelling up from your lips. “Tell me if I need to stop, okay?” His brows were drawn together, eyes serious.

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly finding it a bit hard to breathe.

“Try to relax,” he rested his hand on your leg. You nodded gently, holding your breath as you kept your eyes on his. “No shame in coming back again to finish things up.” He brought his hand away, rolling his shoulders back as he shot you a grin. “I wouldn’t say no to seeing you again, darling.”

You smiled at him and nodded. You took a deep breath and straightened your posture as he moved behind you, his knees warm on either side of you.

“Ready?” His voice drawled in your ear once more.

“Yes,” you breathed, leaning into the leather a little more. You heard the telltale buzz of the needle and winced as it hit your skin, letting out the breath you’d unknowingly held. Okay, you thought, fuck this hurt a lot more.

“How’s the pain?” You distantly felt his free hand wiping away gently at your skin between strokes.

“It’s definitely worse,” you bit your lip, squirming a bit.

“Don’t focus on it. Relax,” he came up a bit closer to you. You could feel his legs against your own, his trousers soft against the bare skin of your lower thighs. “That’s it, good girl. Relax, just listen to my voice. You’re doing so well.”

You felt him stiffen- and you realised you’d absentmindedly moved your hips back against him. You shifted forward and gripped the leather, taking deep breaths.

“There we go,” he spoke by your ear, “just breathe through it.”

You focused on your breath, but couldn’t help letting out a little whimper. You felt absolutely overwhelmed. The pain was one thing, but the feel of him behind you, so very close, had your heart racing.

He stopped to pick up more ink before coming back over to you. “It’s looking good,” he felt closer to you now.

You moved your hips again, half out of discomfort, the other half out of most of your thoughts slipping away as you felt him against you.

This time he kept going, though you could feel his strained breath against you.

He kept on for a few minutes, before stopping to pick up more ink. Coming back, he drew some repetitive circles and you gasped, gripping the leather tight between your fingers, your hips pressing back farther.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pulling back the needle. “If you keep moving like that we will have a problem.” His voice was rough against your ear.

You could hear the exasperation in his voice. You felt high- the pain, the heat between you two finally too much. You kept your hips angled back against him. You were keenly aware of your situation, essentially naked except for your leather boots and shorts. Pushing your hips back farther, you turned to the side, looking him up and down. “Like this?” You moved a little more against him.

The buzzing stopped and he set the tattoo gun down on the side table. He pulled off his gloves and ran his hands down your sides before stopping at your hips and pulling them back against him. “You are playing a very dangerous game, darling.” His voice was low, full of warning.

You could feel how hard he was behind you and instinctively rocked yourself back against him. “I’m sorry,” you gasped.

“I don’t think you are,” he brushed his fingers down your exposed thighs.

“You’re right,” you gripped his knees through his trousers. “I’m not.”

“Wicked little thing,” he hissed then backed up and helped you out of the chair, his eyes hungrily taking in your exposed chest. “I knew you were going to be trouble.”

“Likewise,” you eyed him up and down, before he pulled you to him, sliding one hand along your hip to press against your lower back. He brought the other up to graze your cheekbone lightly, fingers slipping down towards your jaw. He angled your chin so your lips were inches away from his. He held you there, his chest heavy against you as his eyes searched your own, his expression dark.

“Is this what you wanted?” He slid a leg between yours and you whined at the sensation.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, darling? Right here?”

“Please,” you breathed.

He quickly closed the gap between you, kissing you hard, your hips rolling against his. He swallowed your moans, his teeth dragging across your bottom lip. He pulled away, breathing hard against your lips. “Take off everything but the boots and lie on the table. Face down. Like before.”

You let out a shaky breath and did as you were told, sliding the shorts off before your damp panties. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, watching you darkly as he leant against the side table, one arm over his midsection, the other angled up as he rested his thumb against his lips.

You laid over your hands, letting out a little gasp as your skin stretched and moved. You were faced away from him, but watched in the reflection as he put on another pair of gloves and brought a bottle over. You felt him spray your shoulders with something, gently wiping it away before he returned with a little tub. You could feel him smearing something over your sensitive skin.

“Apologies darling,” he rasped into your ear and you whined. “But I couldn’t fuck you properly without covering this up.” He covered the area with a bandage then some medical tape, securing it to your skin before peeling off his gloves.

“Now,” he was back beside you, “be a good girl and stay still for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered, your thighs pressing together.

“Relax.” He let his fingertips trail up and down your spine, eliciting a shiver from you. You relaxed your muscles, consciously letting yourself melt into the bed below you. You let out a little hum at the feeling, most of the tension you’d built up slipping away.

“That’s it, good girl.” His lips ghosted against the shell of your ear and you felt an electric warmth spreading through you. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off of you, darling. Every little whine,” his fingers moved down your spine, this time trailing them lower. “Every little gasp,” he brought his fingers even lower, curving them along the inside of your thigh, inches from your dripping heat. “Every little tremble had me wanting to hear more. To see more. It made me curious,” he lightly trailed a finger up your slit and you inhaled sharply. “Will you let out those lovely little gasps as you come undone on my fingers?” Quickly finding your clit, he gently rubbed it in small circles as he took your earlobe between his teeth, flicking his tongue against it. You moaned, the sound loud in the empty room. He drew back, “I wonder, darling, what you’ll look like when I make you cum on my cock.”

Your breath was heavy, and you were whimpering, already so close.

“Loki I’m-“

“I know. You’re fucking dripping.” His voice was making your head spin, and when he dipped a finger within you you saw stars. “All for me?”

You swallowed and nodded, your fingertips diffing into the leather as you held yourself still.

“And how long has this pretty cunt been wet and ready for me?” He traced his tongue along the shell of your ear as he added another finger to lightly tease your dripping hole.

You tried to answer, you really did. But you found yourself completely overwhelmed, every coherent thought gone.

He slowly moved his fingers within you, curling the digits as he went. You were mewling, your hips absentmindedly angling up to meet him. “Oh, pet. Has it been hours?”

You whined in response and he chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t make you wait much longer.” With that he picked up the pace, and hit that sweet spot deep within you repeatedly. You were moaning, the frantic sound of your breath and his movements filling the air.

He angled your legs apart a little more and brought his other hand under you to lightly tease your clit. You cried out at the sensation, your fingers aching from their grip on the bed. “That’s it- fuck. You’re gripping my fingers so tightly. Come on, be a good girl for me and cum.”

His words sent you so far over the edge, your vision went black as you froze, the pleasure hitting you hard. You were crying out a mixture of curse words and his name over and over, your hips eventually riding it out against his hand.

As your breath returned to normal, you turned to look up at him. He smirked down at you, bringing his fingers to your lips. You quickly took them in your mouth, swirling your tongue over them as you held his gaze.

His smirk fell at that, brows knitting together. His jaw was hard as he watched you suck his fingers. He pulled them from your lips, and helped you sit up.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, restrained. You could see the bulge in his pants and felt a shiver run through you.

“Pretty fucking excellent.” You were surprised at the gravel in your voice. “But I don’t think we’re done here.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow.

“No.” You stood, stepping closer to him to press your chest against his. He was still fully clothed, his shirt still perfectly pressed.

“Tell me, darling. What else do you need?” He kept still, his expression daring.

“I need you to fuck me.”

He tilted his head, a slow, filthy grin spreading across his lips.

“Please.” You finished.

In a flash he’d captured your lips, his fingers holding your jaw as he held you to him. He teased you with his lips and tongue, making you whimper against him, your hands gripping the thin cotton of his shirt.

Still holding your jaw, he pulled away to kiss your neck, nipping and biting at the skin between kisses. Moving away, he led you over to a couch on the far side of the room, sitting down before pulling you on top of his lap. You held yourself above him, admiring him.

“Come here.” Hand sliding from your knees on either side of him up to your waist, he brought you down to settle over him, your hands smoothing against his chest. Holding his gaze, you slowly unbuttoned his shirt before undoing his belt and pants. He was watching you closely, his chest heaving with his slow breath.

You took him out, breaking eye contact to look at his cock. “Fuck,” you whispered. His skin felt like silk under your fingers, the hardened length of him heavy and hot in your hand. Your eyes traced up to his abdomen, finally seeing his chest piece, a green snake coiled around itself surrounded by the black ink of his other tattoos.

Raising your gaze to his face, you were struck at the sight of him, his eyes heavy lidded, bright blue-green now darkening with your touch. Although his body was covered in ink, you could still see the fine, long musculature under his skin. His jaw clenched as he leant back against the couch, eyes burning a cool flame as he watched you.

He slid a condom out of his pocket, pinching the package between two fingers. You took it from him, unwrapped it and rolled it onto him, his length twitching in your hands as you did so. You licked your lips before looking back up to him.

Gripping your ass, he guided you over him. God, those fucking hands felt so warm against you, his long fingers pressing into your flesh.

Not wanting to wait another second, you slowly slid onto his cock, shuddering in pleasure. Taking him inch by inch, he stretched you, eventually filling you completely. You groaned and took a moment to adjust, your fingertips digging into his shoulder.

“Christ,” he breathed, his mouth hanging open to accommodate his quickened breath. He shook his head at you, his eyes flickering over your chest. “You’re too fucking lovely.”

You twitched a little around him, bending to kiss him. He slid his hand onto your lower back and shifted to press you flush against him, your clit hitting the base of his cock. You inhaled sharply, your hips angling themselves to get more contact.

You had your hand splayed across the side of his neck, your thumb just under his jaw. Holding you tight against him, he broke the kiss to lick against your lips briefly before he started moving his hips up into yours.

You could feel your eyes roll back at the sensation, the angle he held you in somehow hitting you in places you’d never felt. “Loki, fuck-“ you breathed, pulling back to find him darkly staring up at you, his expression hard. You held one hand on his shoulder, the other flat against his chest as you took each thrust he gave you.

He brought one hand up against your breast, his eyes not leaving yours as he pinched your nipple between his fingers, causing you to squirm harder against him. “That pretty cunt is so wet for me, darling. Is this what you needed?”

You nodded, your chest heaving as you arched your back to press harder against his hand.

He let out a breath. “You’re gripping me so fucking tightly. Are you going to cum again?”

“Yes- please,” you breathed, “please don’t stop.”

“Not until you cum. I need you to cum on this cock. I need you to come undone for me.”

You whined, so very close. You cried out when he lightly rubbed his thumb against your clit.

“Be my good girl,” he growled, “and cum for me again.”

You moved your hips with his once, twice, three times before you were screaming, an intense pleasure hitting you so hard that your fingers went numb as they clawed weakly at his chest.

“That’s it, fuck-“ he groaned, holding you hard against him as he came with you.

You fell forward against his chest, the both of you out of breath, still twitching from the aftershocks.

You distantly heard Warpaint’s “Whiteout” in the background, the record just hitting the needle. He was running his fingers lightly up your spine, the feeling comforting you.

“Darling,” he spoke, his voice rumbling against your chest, sending a tremble through you.

You leant backwards, wincing a little as you did so, your muscles weak. He held you steady, smirking up at you.

“Don’t you want to see your tattoo?”

Your eyes widened, realising you’d never gotten the chance to see what he’d done. “Shit- I really, really do.” You slowly got up from his lap, his strong hands supporting you.

You walked over to your panties and shorts and slid them on over your boots. You turned to find him waiting by the mirrors, his pants on but his shirt still unbuttoned. He had one arm up against the side as he leant on them, his other hand in his pocket.

“Come here,” he smiled, his eyes running over your still topless form.

You strode over to him and he nodded to the little step. You stepped up and stood still as he peeled off the bandage.

“It isn’t quite finished- there’s still a lot of shading and colour to be done,” he warned. You could sense a bit of nerves in his voice.

You smiled at him through the mirror as he angled the one on the side so you could get a good look of your shoulders. When you caught sight of it your mouth fell open. “Holy shit.”

It was the most intricate work you’d ever seen. A snake on either shoulder, both done in such a beautifully artistic way, so detailed yet they held a hint of abstraction. Their bodies were posed similarly, but you could see he’d added little differences in their scales, eyes and heads. One’s tongue was flicked out slightly, the dainty pointed fork just peeking out from its lips. Their positioning was also altered slightly so it almost looked natural but still remained beautifully symmetrical, their curved bodies accenting your shoulders perfectly. You could make out a branch that he’d added in, the delicate peonies blooming from it as it held the bodies of the twisting serpents. You could see where he’d reached with the shading, the body of one snake partially filled.

“Loki, I-“ you shook your head. “I don’t know what to say. This is more than I could have ever imagined.”

He was smiling from the edge of the mirror, one long leg crossed over the other.

“I absolutely love it.” You turned to him, your eyes searching his, the swirling blue-greens bright once more. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head down, a wide grin across his lips. “You’re more than welcome.”

He helped you off the step and covered you back up. You put on your shirt, not risking the band of your bra rubbing up against your sensitive skin.

He walked with you back to the front of the space, helping you into your coat.

“So, I guess I should book a follow up. Maybe 2 or 3 weeks?” You asked, holding your purse in your hands. You wanted to see him again, but you kept your expectations low. You knew from your friends that a second session couldn’t start until you’d sufficiently healed from the first.

“Here’s my personal number,” he picked a card and pen up off the coffee table, writing on it before handing it to you. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, darling? We can sort it all out then. Same time, around 7?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation.

You stepped forward and kissed him, your hands snaking up to his shoulders to hold him close. He gripped your hip, his other hand caressing your cheek as he held you to him, his lips still teasingly slow against yours.

You moved to rest your forehead against his, your breath mingling.

“Tomorrow then,” you whispered, licking and biting his lower lip before pulling away. You stepped back, sliding one hand along his forearm as you moved towards the door.

He licked his lips, shaking his head at you. “Trouble.”

“Likewise.” You gave him one last smile before slipping out into the cool night air.

Part II here.

Author's Note: Serious question- do we think Loki kept slipping in "good girl" to fuck with the reader? Cause I think yes.

I like to think his snake tattoo is a green adder (which is also venomous af) and he chose the death adder so reader would match.

I drew on a lot of my personal experience with my first tattoo for this. Especially the part about shading/colouring hurting a lot more than the outline. No one told me this and holy fuck it hurt! Especially after the outline.

Thank you as always for reading 🖤🖤🖤

[tarydarrington]

"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."

Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.

“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”

Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.

“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”

Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.

“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”

“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.

“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.

Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.

“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”

He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.

For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”

He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."

Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."

"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."

"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.

Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.

“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.

Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”

“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.

“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.

They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.

“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”

“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”

Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.

Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"

"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."

Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.

“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.

Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”

Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”

Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.

“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”

"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."

"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.

Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.

The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.

"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.

Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.

It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.

"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.

"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.

"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.

Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"

"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.

"Ah, ja, Miss…"

"Lionett."

Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.

“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.

“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.

Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"

Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”

“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”

“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.

Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.

Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”

“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.

Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”

Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.

“Thelyss,” he answers.

Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.

“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”

Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”

Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.

“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?

His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.

“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”

He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.

“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”

“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.

Caleb gives her an incredulous look.

“I really do need to go,” she says.

He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.

“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”

“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.

It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.

“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.

“Yep,” Beau lies.

“Hmm.” Yasha hums.

“Perfectly,” Essek says.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.

He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.

“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.

Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.

“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”

He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.

“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.

“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”

Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”

Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.

“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”

He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.

“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”

Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”

Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.

Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.

“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.

“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.

As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.

“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.

“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.

It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.

With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.

“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.

“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”

“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”

He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”

Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”

He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.

He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.

“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.

“To my very good friends,” he replies.

“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.

They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.

-

thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜

[scuttling]

Trophy Husband

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,188 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Dry humping, Unprotected sex, a lil Daddy kink Summary: Requested by anon: “maybe some dad bod hotch smut? like where he’s newly retired and hasn’t been working out as much and the reader worships his body bc he’s been feeling a little insecure” I love some dad bod Hotch, so happy to fill this request! Link to A03 or read below!

“No, we’re not doing forced overtime again. If you want my team to put out more consults, then we need to hire more profilers.” You walk through your front door and into the kitchen, smiling when you see Aaron standing over the stove, holding a wooden spoon and stirring something that smells amazing. “With all due respect, I’m not concerned about the budget, sir; if my people are as valuable as you stated, then I expect them to be taken care of.”

Aaron looks back at you, wrinkles his nose, and you make a motion with your hands—blah, blah, blah—which makes him chuckle.

“I agree completely, sir. That’s a great idea. If you send down the requisitions tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing on Monday. No, thank you. Good night.” You lock your phone, set your bag on the stool closest to you, and sigh. “Was it this hard to get stuff done when you were the unit chief?”

“No, it’s definitely harder now, but you make it look easy. And sexy,” he says with a smirk, and you walk over to him; he offers a taste of what he’s making—it looks like paella, and your stomach rumbles—and you lean in to take a bite off of the spoon, looking up at him and flicking your tongue over your lips. His eyes get dark.

Even after ten years of marriage, he’s so easy to get going, it’s almost unfair.

“Delicious, daddy, thank you.” You stand up fully, and he turns back to the stove; your arms wrap easily around his waist, cheek pressed to the soft, worn t-shirt that covers his back. “How was your day? Are you still enjoying the life of a trophy husband?” He snorts, muscles tensing enough that you can feel it where you rest.

“Hardly.” He was in such a good mood a moment ago that this feels like a complete 180; profiler or not, you know your husband, and something’s on his mind. You tighten your embrace, and he shrugs you off a little, and that is practically unheard of. You stand, take a step back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t getting bored of retirement already, are you? It’s only been six months.” He sighs, shakes his head. You’re sure you look confused.

“No, retirement is fine; it’s great, actually, it’s not that.” Typical Aaron, always making you drag this shit out of him. For being so sweet and kind, he’s still not that great at being open, even though you make every effort to encourage it.

“What is it, sweetheart? Something is obviously bothering you; we should talk about it.” Another deep exhale, and he turns off the burner, moves the pan of food off of the heat, and turns to face you fully.

“I imagine you already know.” You shake your head, shrug, and he gestures to himself, to his body. You feel stupid, like there’s something you’re missing.

“Aaron, love of my life, I don’t have any idea what this means.” You mimic his previous motion, and he rolls his eyes, which you can’t stand, and he’s well aware of that. “You’ve got to give me more than that, or I can’t help.”

“You can’t help, it just… is.” He sighs, and his shoulders deflate. You move closer, to touch him, comfort him, but he takes a step back. “I know I’m not the ‘trophy husband’ you probably expected me to be. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

You do your best to put together these cryptic sentences, the hand gesture, and when realization finally dawns on you, you can’t help it: you laugh.

Aaron turns away, and you know that was shitty, feel instantly terrible, so you reach out to put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you don’t think you’re hot anymore?” He turns to face you, looking at you like he’s tired of your shenanigans, which… after this long, he should be plenty used to them, so the look does nothing for you.

“I’ve gotten… soft, I think that’s obvious.” At that, you smirk a little, move your hands to the button on his jeans.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything soft about you, Aaron. Why don’t you let me put your cock in my mouth, and we’ll check again.”

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His tone is a little admonishing, and you kind of deserve it, so you stop being horny for a second and take a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sorry. So… you’re exercising less, because obviously you don’t need to be as fit anymore, since you’re not working. Am I following?” He nods his head. “Okay, and you’re feeling… insecure about the way your body looks now, because of it.”

“Yes. Especially when you, Unit Chief Hotchner, are kicking ass and looking fucking delicious doing it, and then you have to come home to me.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in you, at those words. Oh hell no.

“Hold on here. I don’t have to come home to you, I get to come home to you; every night I do, it’s like a dream come true, and on the nights I don’t get to come home to you, I dream about it. I dream about being in your arms—strong arms, always, even if they’re less defined—and I dream about making love to you and fucking you and everything in between. You: not the Aaron of two months ago or six months ago or five years ago. You.”

He looks your face over—you’re getting fired up and you know it, and it turns him on and you also know that—and then the two of you come together for a deep, desperate kiss. Your hands fist in his hair, his roughly grab your ass, and when you pull back for air he turns you so you’re bent over the counter, searches for the zipper of your skirt.

“No!” He freezes, then steps back, and you stand up, flushed. “I’m sorry, not no—just, not here.” He blows out a breath, and you kiss him softly, sorry you scared him. “It’s just that… I want to lay you back on our bed, completely naked, and I want to put my mouth and my hands on you, everywhere. I want you to see what your body does to me, exactly as it is right now. I get that that might make you feel a little vulnerable, but will you let me?” You press your lips to his again, put your hands gently on his face. “Let me, baby.”

He nods, and you take his hand, take him to your bedroom. He’s visibly nervous, so you move his hands to your body, let him strip you naked first. He always takes pleasure in this, whether he is ripping the buttons off your favorite blouse or softly mouthing at your thighs while he drags your panties down your legs, and tonight is no exception.

“So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs as he finds that zip and drags it down, helping you step out of the skirt. You kick off your heels, and he unbuttons your top—carefully, tonight—then unhooks your bra, pulls you close and kisses your neck and chest so deliciously you almost forget what brought you here.

You lick your lips, shake yourself from the haze of submission you always feel when his mouth is at your throat, and your hands flick open the button of his jeans, tug down the zipper, guide his pants to the floor. He steps out of them, and you kiss his mouth.

Your hands move up, to the hem of his t-shirt, but you do nothing. He smirks, pulls it over his head, because he knows you love that hot guy way of pulling a t-shirt off with one hand, and he happens to be a master of it. You do your best not to drool.

“Mmm. You know exactly what I like, Aaron. There’s nobody in this world who could turn me on like you, who could get me off like you.” He licks his lips, and you get on your knees, running your hands down his body as you go. “Toes to nose, you are exactly who and what I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

You start low, press your lips to the tops of his feet, then his ankles, his calves, his knees. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but you keep moving up, slowly, until your hands find the waistband of his underwear and you pull them down. His cock springs up—this in particular is never a problem, no matter his age—and you kiss up his thighs and then rise to stand.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you lean up for a kiss, drop your panties. He grabs a fistful of your hair, takes another, rougher kiss, then releases you; you’re panting hard, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. God, he’s good. How could he ever doubt his sex appeal when he makes you this much of a horny, eager mess with just a kiss?

You guide him back to the bed because he’s too tall for you to reach everywhere standing up; you start at his right wrist, kiss your way to the crook of his elbow, over his biceps, to his shoulder. You trail your lips over his collarbone, his throat, pausing to nibble on his earlobes, to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“I love you so much, Aaron. You are and always will be perfect in my eyes. I barely even notice when you’re being a dick anymore,” you joke, and he laughs; steamy and sexy is really good, but it’s your favorite when he laughs.

You kiss down the other side of his neck, down his arm, but this time you bring his hand up and suck on his middle and ring fingers, taking them so deeply you can flick your tongue over his wedding ring. He groans, you groan, it’s really hot. Your pussy throbs.

“Fuck, baby.” You pull them out of your mouth with an innocent smile, and then straddle his legs, leaning forward to suck and bite kisses all over his stomach and hips, avoiding his cock altogether. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he breathes, reaching for your hair, and you slide your arms up his chest, squeeze the muscles there that are softer, but still present, while you kiss wetly along his belly.

“Mmm,” you moan while you kiss, because you’re kind of… lined up tight against his thigh, and it feels really good.

You keep kissing, all over, sloppy, eager kisses, rubbing his chest and grinding against his thigh, and it’s a surprise to you both when you come, looking up at him with your mouth open and your nails digging into his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh when you’re done—there’s no sugarcoating this—humping his leg, and he licks his lips, wraps his hands around your arms, and maneuvers you on onto your back, slides his cock easily inside you where you’re wet and warm. “Yes, Aaron.”

“Oh, baby. Fuck, I love you,” he groans, and he laces your fingers with his and tucks his face against your neck. You love when he gets like this, so desperate to come but so soft, so loving, and you squeeze him with your legs, push your body into his thrusts.

“Like that, honey, just like that,” you breathe, mouthing at his shoulder, your free hand clutching at his back. “Come inside me, daddy; pin me with your big body like you always do and come inside me. Love it, want it, need it.”

He moans into your throat, works his hips harder, faster, and you hold him when he comes, smoothing your palm over his skin. He looks down at you, and love shines in his eyes just like always; your heart melts a little. That’s something you’ll never get tired of seeing as long as you live.

He pulls out, replaces his cock with his fingers and brings you to orgasm again, still looking into your eyes, and he catches your last gasping moan with his lips.

You’re both tired after that, not as young as you used to be, and you pull him on top of your body again, a warm, reassuring weight; underneath him is your favorite place to be, always has been, always will be.

“Trophy husband,” you coo in his ear, scraping fingers through his hair. He chuckles softly, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Badass wife.”

“Mm hmm, and don’t you forget it.” After a couple minutes, your stomach rumbles, and Aaron climbs off of you, returns with the whole pan of paella, two spoons, and a bottle of white wine. “No glasses?” you ask, teasing, sitting up against the pillows, and he shakes his head, wrinkles his nose.

“Nah, I like it better this way. My lips where your lips have been.” He leans in for a soft, slow, sultry kiss, and you sigh when it’s over, lean your head against his shoulder, and smile.

❤️ Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix

[harleysarchive]

To Stay In Love | Charles Leclerc

Fandom: Formula 1 Warning: FLUFF! Some angst, a little steamy at one point, almost 5000 words, I couldn’t stop I’m sorry. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x f!reader  Summary: The perfect ending to a perfect love story between you and Charles. With some minor obstacle on the way for you to be together.

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A/N: I felt the need to make a third part because I am too much in love with this series to let it end just yet, enjoy! 

Sometimes the universe works in wonderful ways. It had introduced you to and to get a date with your love, Charles. The love you felt for that man after just one date was almost embarrassing. And sometimes the universe could be, not so wonderful… like right now.

After the qualification in Portugal, Daniel didn’t even cut for Q2 and that was devastating for him and the team. You couldn’t believe your eyes as to what had happened. He looked so hurt by it, it hurt your soul. The rest of the qualification day was to comfort Daniel and make sure he was okay. He appreciated it a lot. Zak had ordered the team to have a meeting after it and discuss what we should do next. Lando did okay in his qualification and he wouldn’t stop teasing you that he would start before “your boyfriend” in the race. The comments made you blush but also wonder. 

What were you and Charles? 

The race did go well for the team, no pole position but it had gotten you some points. Daniel did an amazing job in catching places and ended up in 9th place. He was ecstatic and hugged you tightly when he came back to the paddock. Lando had finished before Charles in the race as well and his grin was even bigger because of it. 

You wanted to talk to Charles before you left Portugal but as you made your way outside of the McLaren building, his team was escorting him towards different interviews and all you shared was longing looks at each other. 

He wanted to be with you, but work was calling. 

When he was done with the interviews, he wanted to see you but you and Lando had already left for the hotel to pack for the flight home. He had missed you by minutes. 

After Portugal you had to leave to work back home and you wouldn’t see Charles for a week. What sucked even more was that you didn’t even say goodbye to him in Portugal.

Lando had driven you to the airport after the race was done and you sat quite in the passenger seat, looking quite sad. 

Lando put his hand on your knee and gently squeezed it. You looked up at him and he smiled towards you. It helped to have him and Daniel near you. It eased the pain a bit. But only a bit. Your heart was still longing for that one person that wasn’t with you. 

The next race would be in Spain.

You and Charles texted each other every day when you were back home working and on occasion Facetime. But it hurt that you weren’t able to get your schedules to match. Whenever you were free he had something to do and vice versa. You looked at his name on the screen. He hadn’t answered your latest text and today you felt even lower than the other days. Your phone lit up and you hoped it was Charles but it was Lando calling you.

“Hello.” you answered.

“Hey, ready to go to the airport?” Lando asked. You were leaving for Spain today and you hadn’t even started packing yet.

“Uhmmmm-...” you said.

“What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t started packing yet.”

“HAVEN’T STARTED?” he yelled. “Who are you and what have you done with (Y/N)?” 

His dramatic exclamation made you laugh and you needed that.

“I’ll send Daniel over to help you, because I’m not done yet either sooo, see you in three hours.” 

You didn’t have time to tell him anything before he hung up on you. You just shook your head and after 30 minutes someone knocked on your door and Daniel let himself in.

“Did he really send you here to check on me?” you asked and folded your clothes into a bag.

 “Yep. He was worried about you so he made me check on you.”

You smiled and sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Low actually.”

“Why?”

“Because…” you didn’t know that talking about it would make you choke up, but it did.” Because I haven’t had time to talk to…” 

You couldn’t continue without feeling your eyes burn. Daniel gave you a compassionate look and walked over to you. He gave you a big hug and really held you tight. You needed it more than you would admit.

“It’s alright, (Y/N).” he said and rubbed your back. “If it’s real love, you will work it out.”

“Yeah, but I feel like a fool for reacting like this. Like it was one date and I’m already a mess over not seeing him for a week. Hell, it even hurts that we didn’t got to say goodbye properly.” you said into his shirt and his laugh made his chest rumble.

“You will see him now won’t you?”

“Hopefully, but my luck hasn't been on top right now.”

“Then we will change that.” Daniel said and let go of you to help you pack. If Lando was ready before you, he would become an ordeal to deal with. But fortunately, you got to his house first and waited for him to get ready. Then the three of you were off to Spain. 

Daniel snapped a picture of the three of you. Lando took one of you and Daniel hugging and smiling like crazy. Daniel uploaded them on Instagram and once again the fans were going bananas over the pictures. 

Off to Spain with Lando and the most important person in the world!

You read the caption and you looked over at Daniel to give him a look that said ‘really?’. Daniel raised his hands in defence.

“Why am I not the most important person in your world too, Daniel?” Lando asked and pretended to be mad.

“You are my friend and my competition mate, but I wouldn’t be much without (Y/N).” Daniel said and those words made you tear up.

“Really?” you said and felt all warm inside.

“That’s true actually. You are the best.” Lando chimed in and you hugged them both.

“Why am I so emotional today?” you asked and the guys shrugged their shoulders. You checked in your bags and went to your gate.

Charles was in his apartment packing when his phone was going off about something that Daniel had uploaded on Instagram. He opened it and his heart broke a little by the sight of you and him hugging. You looked so happy with him and the caption didn’t make it better. 

Charles sat down on the bed and looked at you. You looked breathtaking. It didn’t go a day without him thinking about you. Missing you. Because he really did. 

He had changed the wallpaper on his phone to the picture he took on you when you were on the beach, on your date. He sighed again when he looked at the picture. You looked equally as breathtaking there as in Daniels picture. He felt jealous over the fact that Daniel and Lando could hang out with you so frequently, but now he mostly felt sad and longing. After you. 

The flight over to Spain made you feel better and you had never laughed so much on a flight as this one. The boys really outdid themself in trying to make you feel better and you did. 

The plane landed and as usual there was a taxi waiting for you at the exit of the airport. Daniel was grabbing something to drink and Lando was signing something for a fan. You were lost in thought when you heard some fans scream in excitement, which made you wake up from your thoughts and turn around to see what the commotion was all about. 

Exiting the gate was Charles. Your heart skipped a beat and your whole body froze because of how beautiful he looked in real life. Even if it had only been a week since you had seen him, it almost felt like years. His posture and his veiny arm, which held his bag firmly. His sunglasses covered his enchanting hazel eyes. He looked up and froze when he saw you standing there. A smile formed on his face but just when he was about to go to you, your taxi driver called for you that it was time to leave. You turned around and grabbed your bag and gave Charles one last longing look before leaving him at the airport. Frustration was building inside of you and you wanted to scream. 

But your misfortune would not stop there. When arriving at the hotel, Zak stood by the desk with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Hey, how are you?” you asked as you approached him. 

“Awful actually.” he answered and rubbed his hand over his face.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re one room short.” he said and looked defeated. “Because for some unknown reason one of our rooms has been cancelled and booked on Carlos Sainz.”

“Carlos? But doesn’t he live nearby?” you asked.

“Exactly. I have to call Mattia and ask him about this.”

While Zak called the boss of Ferrari, a taxi pulled up by the entrance and Charles stepped out of it. He grabbed his bag and went into the lobby where he saw you sitting on one of the chairs. He saw the displeased look on your face and decided to ask what was wrong. He gently touched your shoulder and your face lit up like the sun when you saw him. All your problems just disappeared when you finally got the chance to look into his hazel eyes.

“Hi.” you said and your voice made Charles smile even bigger. His mind was getting blurry and he almost forgot what he was going to ask you, when he saw your boss looking distressed pacing back and forth in the lobby.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, one of our rooms has been booked on Carlos for some unknown reason.”

“On Carlos? But he lives nearby.” Charles asked confused.

“I know, that’s what I said. But Zak is talking to your boss to see if we can solve the problem.”

“Or else?”

“Or else, I’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep I guess.”

Charles did not like the sound of that. I was bad enough that you could barely see each other but if you slept in a different hotell, then it would be even lesser and he hated that idea. But then he came up with a brilliant plan.

“Why don’t you stay in my room?”

Your eyes widened and you almost choked on air. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why don’t you stay with me? I have a king sized bed in my room, which will be plenty of room for both of us.” 

The more he talked about his idea the more he realized that it sounded like he was suggesting something else and this thought made him turn bright red. 

“I’ll ask my boss.” you said, but were still in shock by his request.

Sleep in his room? HIS ROOM?! your thoughts were screaming. But this meant that you could spend time with him. A LOT of time and you like the sound of that. You took a deep breath to compose yourself before you asked your boss. You didn’t want to reveal your true emotions. 

“I have a solution to the problem.” you mouthed at him.

“Hold on Mattia, I’ll get back to you in a bit.” Zak hung up the phone.

“I have a friend that stays at the hotel and I can stay there, if it’s okay with you.” 

“Okay? This saves everything. Thank you for finding a quick and easy solution (Y/N), I won’t forget it.” Zak said and called up Mattia to tell him that the problem has been resolved. You walked back to where Charles was waiting and looked at you with a curious expression.

“Zak said that I could stay with this friend of mine that is also staying at the hotel.” you said and winked at him.

“A friend?” he said and tried to sound hurt.

“What else could I say. Hey, can I sleep with the Ferrari driver?”

“If you ask nicely.”

His statement made you turn bright red and you almost forgot how to breathe. 

“I-I-I did-d….”

“I’m just teasing you.” Charles said and escorted you towards the elevator. He grabbed your bag and pressed the button to his floor. The elevator ride was quiet but the tension in the elevator between you and Charles was thick. You almost didn’t dare to look at him in the elevator mirror. But the ride was quick and Charles soon guided you towards his room.

His room was very nice and the view that he had was amazing. The bed was huge and the bathroom was even bigger. You loved it.

“This is amazing.”

“Well, Ferrari likes to spoil their employees.” Charles said jokingly.

“Don’t try it, McLaren are great.” you defended and this made Charles laugh. He put down the bags on the floor and sat down on the bed. He watched you go back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom. The adoration in his eyes when he watched you looking amazed by the new room made his eyes look like puppy eyes. You fell down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, when Charles' face came into your view. He was laying on the side and looking at your face. 

“Hey.” you said quietly and smiled.

“Hi.” he said and started to trace your nose with his finger. You looked at him and finally your mind realized that he was here. He was actually here.

“You are here.” you whispered.

“I am.”

“You are here with me.” 

“And you are with me.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” you breathed and felt the tears burn in your eyes again.

“I can imagine.” he said with a sad smile. “I have thought about you ever since our date and that I didn’t get to say goodbye to you properly hurt me more than I thought it would.” 

“It hurt me too, and that we never really had time to talk properly.”

You looked at each other and all the nights where you had missed each other, longing for each other was coming to the surface. You caressed his cheeks and he leaned into your hand. He loved your touch and he didn’t want you to stop, fearing if you did he would wake up in his apartment alone again. Like he had done the last week and he couldn’t bear to think that this was some sort of cruel dream that his mind was playing for him. If it was, he would lose his mind. 

The sun was setting and you had to get ready for bed and now the awkwardness began. How would you sleep?

Charles soon realized what was happening and he scratched the back of his neck, feeling how he was getting nervous and awkward.

“I can sleep on the floor if you-...” he started.

“NO! It is far more important that you get a good night's sleep. We can share the bed, it is big enough for both of us.” you told him and he just nodded. You grabbed your toilet bag and locked yourself in the bathroom to get ready for the night - and to collect your thought that was currently going in a million miles an hour. 

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Yesterday you were sad over the fact that he didn’t answer your text fast enough and today you were sleeping in the same bed. 

The universe works in mysterious ways, you thought but you were nowhere near complaining by your position. 

You unlocked the bathroom door and exited, when you stopped in your tracks to stare at the sight before you. Charles had just removed his shirt to reveal his toned body underneath and it was impossible to not stare at it. He was shaped like a Greek god and your eyes weren’t allowing you to look somewhere else than him right now. Charles noticed your burning eyes on him and almost felt self conscious.

You soon realized what you were doing and felt extremely embarrassed by your actions and your cheeks were burning.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” you rambled. 

“It’s okay.” Charles said. His cheeks were slightly pink by the sudden attention he got, but he wasn’t complaining. 

“Do you like what you see?” he teased. 

“Wha-what?” your mind didn’t register his question because it was still too aware of him shirtless in front of you and too embarrassed that you had drooled over him. 

“Do you like what you see?” he asked again and started to walk towards you. Your mind was too unfocused to answer him, your tongue had stopped working and your eyes didn’t know where to look. The two of you were almost touching bodies and then Charles closed the gap. The kiss was sweet but also passionate. It was telling you all the emotions that he had felt since the last kiss you shared. It was almost needy and craving you, which wasn’t completely untrue. 

Charles was needing and craving you in every single way. Every fiber in his body was screaming for him to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you and it was agony when he couldn’t. So, now that he had a whole weekend with you in his hotel room, he wasn’t wasting any time. 

You broke free from the kiss to catch some air. But you looked up to see Charles' dark eyes and messy hair, and again your mind went blank. He caressed your cheek and kissed the top of your head. 

“I’ll get ready for bed.” he said before going to the bathroom, leaving you confused and flustered. You swallowed and walked towards the bed. You picked the side closest to the window and crawled under the sheets. 

Your mind tried it best to understand what just happened, but it couldn’t. You were confused but also so incredibly happy, so you thought it would be impossible to fall asleep beside him. 

Beside him, your thoughts echoed. You liked the thought of it and you had dreamed of the day when you would do that, and now it was finally happening. A little sooner than you had imagined, but you didn’t complain. 

Charles exited the bathroom and turned all the lights off and crawled under the sheets. No one dared to disturbed the silence that had fallen in the room.

“Good night, Charles.” you whispered.

“Good night, ma chérie”.

You smiled over the nickname he had given you. 

Both you and Charles had fallen asleep quite fast and you had tried to keep the space between the two of you. But when you woke up the next day to the sun peaking through the curtain, you felt the warmth of his body against your back. Your legs were tangled together and his arm was wrapped around your body. You took a deep breath and turned around to look at him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, with messy brown hair and his chest moving in a steady rhythm. He felt your movement and instinctively pulled you closer to his chest. Your face was almost squished against his chest, but you didn’t mind. Your smile grew even wider by his action and you gave his chest a light kiss. You heard the sound of your alarm clock go off on your phone and it ruined the nice moment that you were having. 

As usual nothing can last forever, you thought and had to break free from Charles' comforting embrace or you would never get to work in time. Sad noises were heard from Charles when you broke away from him, who soon woke up from the noise. He blinked a few times to adjust to the bright light then his eyes found you. 

“Good morning, ma chérie.” he said with his raspy morning voice. 

His voice startled you a bit.

“Good morning, I’m sorry if I woke you up.” you apologized and left the bed. 

“No worries at all. Did you sleep well?” he asked but was sad that you left him alone in the bed. He would’ve liked to cuddle with you a bit longer.

“Very much so, I don’t think I’ve fallen asleep so quickly as I did last night.”

“Me too.” Charles beamed. He looked so good in the morning it wasn’t even funny. You felt yourself get flustered again because you were staring at him… again. If this continued it would become a habit of yours. But, Charles didn’t mind it. He liked it. 

You looked down at the clock.

“I have to get ready to get to work.” you said and went into the bathroom. Charles' expression fell a bit, because he had enjoyed having you all to himself. 

“When do you need to be at the track?”

“In half an hour, we have a meeting and stuff to do before the practice round tomorrow.”

Charles rose from the bed to get ready.

“How are you getting to the track?”

“We have a taxi waiting for us to drive us there.”

Your phone vibrated and it was a text from Daniel, one from yesterday asking if the problem got solved and another now that said that he was soon ready to leave.

You replied to both the text and hurried up to get ready. 

“I have to leave now.” you announced but Charles blocked the door on your way out. 

“A goodbye kiss?” he asked. 

You gave him what he wanted but he deepened and started to guide you back towards the bed.

“No, no, no” you said as you broke free from the kiss. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course.” he said and sat down on the bed. You left the hotel room feeling all kinds of emotions. You looked at your reflection and your cheeks were bright red. You started to think about the kiss you had the night before. The passion and need that was felt in it. It felt amazing and the memory made you smile. You pressed the button on the elevator to get to the lobby and there was Daniel and Lando waiting for you.

“I thought you guys were at the track already.” you said when you exited the elevator.

“No, we’re riding the same taxi to the track today.” Lando said.

“You look great today, and how did the problem get solved?” Daniel asked as he sipped his coffee.

“Uhmm-...” you said and started to feel even more flustered. But, today seemed to be your lucky day as Zak called for you to get into the taxi. But Daniel was curious to know. 

At the tracks you were bombarded with different photographers that wanted to take the first picture of the Spain race. The photographers captured two pictures of you. One where Lando was laughing at something you said and one where Daniel was pulling you closer to his chest to annoy you, but you had a big smile on your face and the fans were going wild over this picture. So many were speculating that you were either dating Lando or Daniel. But that was just speculation and it made you smile when you thought about the one who you were really dating. 

Charles came to the track a bit after your team and he was walking the track not far behind from you and Daniel. He could hear the laughter coming from you when Daniel cracked jokes and teased you, and it still made him jealous. 

The track walk went well for both of the boys and you were in the paddock getting things ready for the practice rounds that were soon starting. You walked outside to grab some water when you walked into someone.

“I’m so sorry.” you said.

“This is starting to be a habit of yours.” Charles joked and you just smiled at him. 

“This is how we meet apparently.” you teased and Charles smiled. One of the photographers was looking your way and snapped a picture of the two of you talking and posted it on social media.

Soon the F1 fans went ballistic, because it was clear as day the look that Charles was giving you, a look of pure adoration and love, and soon the speculation was forming that you were dating Charles. 

“Good luck on the practice round later.” you said and touched his arm. He grabbed it and pulled you closer to him. Your eyes widened when you realized when he was doing in public.

“Charles…”

“Will I get a kiss from you if I get on p1, p2 or p3?”

“Of course.”

“I mean here.”

Your eyes widened, but then softened.

“Of course.” you said again and then he left to get ready. In your mind you thought there was no way that he would land on any of these places on race day, but Charles hadn’t specified which day it meant. Charles had a smug smile plastered on his face when he returned to the Ferrari paddock.

“Hey, you ready Charles?” Carlos asked and saw his amused look.

“More than ready.”

“You seem amused over something.”

Charles didn’t have time to answer him, because it was time to get ready for the practice rounds. You walked back to the paddock to watch the practice rounds, hoping nothing major would happen today to the cars or the drivers. 

After both practice rounds, both Lando and Daniel didn’t do too well but they would talk to Zak and the rest of the team to figure out what was wrong. You were minding your own business outside of the building, when a sweaty figure came running towards you. It was Charles and he was beaming like the sun when he approached you.

“Hey, how are you-...” you didn’t have time to finish before his lips connected with yours and you could hear the sound of cameras going off and the media going insane by the sight in front of them. Here outside the McLaren building, Charles Leclerc was kissing the personal assistant of Lando and Daniel. It was circling everywhere. You were too shocked to melt into the kiss. Charles broke it off with a huge smile on his face.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“You said I get a kiss if I landed on p1, 2 or 3 and I landed on p3.”

You looked at him in complete shock. 

“I thought you meant for the race day.”

“I never specified the day.” he said and winked. You face palmed but the deed was already done. Charles' confident smile started to fade and he started to feel insecure that he had done something wrong. You noticed it and thought ‘fuck it’ and kissed him back passionately. He pulled you closer to him and spung you around, which made you shriek.

“I love you.” he breathed.

“And I love you.” you said back, high on life and on love. Nothing after this could make you unhappy.

“Please be mine.” Charles asked or more like pleaded. “I know that I want to be with you.”

“Of course I want to be yours, Charles. Since day one.”

This made him ecstatic. You didn’t care that the media or anyone for that matter saw you. You were in love and you wanted to show the world that you were and who you loved. This truly was an amazing ending to your love story.

----

One year later you were living in Monaco together with Charles, but still worked for McLaren. When the image of you and Charles kissing circulated last year, Zak talked to you to make sure that this wouldn’t affect your work at McLaren. Because he wanted you to stay, he had noticed how well you got along with Lando and Daniel so he didn’t want to lose you. 

You had proven to him that it had worked and you and Charles were stronger than ever. Your relationship with Lando and Daniel hadn’t changed, but Charles still got a little jealous over Daniel’s flirty comments and handsy antics on you, but you assured him everyday that it was him, and him alone that you had eyes on and no one else. You were enjoying the sun in Monaco when someone towered over you.

“How is my lovely girlfriend today?”

“She is great, how is my lovely boyfriend today?”

“I’m great, as always when you are with me.” 

You shoved him away from you, which made him laugh. You had to leave soon to work with McLaren and wouldn’t see him for a couple of weeks.

“You know that I love you right?”

“I do.” 

“Good, because I will tell you that everyday until I get home.” you told him before heading in to pack. 

“And I will tell you the same, but I will miss you.”

You turned around to hug him.

“And I’ll miss you.” 

As you packed you thought about something, to fall in love is easy, to confess your love is difficult, but to stay in love shows that it was real. And yours and Charles love was definitely real.

TAGGED:

@ohmyolympusssy @perfectfantasies22 @lu-morningstar @ay0nha @baueoud​ @marvelishgirl​

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, for enjoying the series and for the amount of love I’ve recieved on this series, it means the world 🥰

[mountswhore]

hey! see u were taking requests so i wanted one with mason related to "london boy" by taylor swift? maybe reader is a singer or something like that?

one of the best taylor swift songs imo, so of course!

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 — mason mount

summary: mason shows you around london during your break, and now you don't think you can ever go back

notes: requests are open again! my asks are open.

Leaving your hometown in New York to visit the world was one of the hardest things you had to do. But you had your dream job, now it was time to follow it. Your recent album was a success, pouring your heart into it as you recovered from your breakup. Your fans had watched your relationship build, and then break apart. Hearing your side of things through 14 songs. Awards, interviews, and traction had come from it, earning you a world tour. It was a scary thing to do, considering it was your first international tour.

“I just want to come back to New York already, I’ve not been on this tour long.” You complained to your sister, curled up in a hotel bed in London. Your first destination was the UK, and there was nothing worse than being homesick.

“Quit being a baby, the UK is so nice.” Your sister replied, chuckling shortly afterwards. “Me and dad visited Manchester, I think? Very nice looking, at least where we stayed.” You sighed, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You loved your cosy apartment in New York, you were even starting to miss the constant traffic sounds and arguing in the early hours of the morning.

“I guess, and I know London is nice, at least. I think I’m gonna interact with some fans,” you decided, pulling the duvet further up your body, “speak tomorrow at sound check.” You ended the call, liking some tweets and replying to a few things, eventually tweeting something of your own.

“Happy to see a lot of my UK fans tomorrow, can’t wait to scream my feelings out with you,” Declan read out, giving Mason a cheeky look. The pair of them were in Mason’s living room, enjoying their evening of FIFA. The boys had spoken about you plenty of times, in interviews too, Mason declaring you as his celebrity crush.

“Shut up already, she probably doesn’t even know who I am.” Mason stated, resting his arm over his eyes to conceal the blush on his face. Him, Declan and a few other boys were going to your concert tomorrow night, some of the WAGs suggested it as they loved your music.

“You think she’s not going to notice a blue tick in her dm’s? It’s worth a shot.” Declan encouraged his friend to shoot his shot, close to grabbing his phone and doing it himself, but instead he was watching Mason bashfully scroll through your twitter replies. “Do it, or I will.”

Mason sighed, clicking the reply button and typing out a reply, handing the phone to Declan to review. ‘Can’t wait, wanna see you.’

“Perfect,” Declan mumbled, pressing the reply button for him. He knew Mason never would, he just saved him 20 minutes of back and forth debate. Handing Mason his phone back, Declan smirked as he watched his friend's face change from fairly embarrassed, to shocked.

“There’s no fucking way you sent that.” Mason remarked, refreshing his phone to see his tweet attract likes. “You dick.”

Declan just laughed as Mason had turned completely red, watching the likes and replies collect under his tweet. Moments later, you’d appeared in his dm’s.

‘I recognise you.’

It was an ominous message from you, one that had you pacing and replaying the creepy message over and over again. But Mason smiled at the message, all ounces of worry leaving his body as he replied to you.

‘Oh yeah? From where?’

‘Actually, I think I recognise your teammate, Pulisic. He’s all my brother talks about sometimes. But all I know is that he plays for a soccer team.’

He laughed at your reply, Declan watching over in pure disbelief.

‘You have a lot to learn about the UK, and luckily I know all about it.’

‘I’ll hold you to that, come backstage after the show, bring whoever you’re with. I’m in London for the next few days before my next show, maybe you can show me around.’

“There’s no way you’re flirting with Y/N Y/L/N within two minutes of replying to her tweet.” Declan stated, Mason smirking at his best friend before sending another reply.

‘Bet.'

Your show was now over and you were anxiously waiting for the boys to be escorted back stage. You didn't know much about football, especially over here, but you knew the boys that were coming back stage were professionals. You'd learnt their names, Declan, Jack, and Mason. Jack and Declan brought their girlfriends along, but Mason was 'painfully single', as he put it.

Finally, as you sat down in your chair to relax, you heard a knock at the door. It was them. They had all filed in, the two girls in shock that they were meeting you. You'd given them all a hug, and gotten to Mason. He looked down at you as you pulled him in, squeezing you tightly before letting you go again.

"Did you guys enjoy it?" You asked, ushering them to the couch for them to sit down. You wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible, rushing over to your dressing room fridge and pulling out some drinks.

"It was amazing," Sasha gawked, still in awe over seeing you for the first time, "we saw you have one in Birmingham in a few weeks, so we're going to that one too." You blushed, returning to your seat opposite the couch.

"That's so sweet! I'm sure I can get you some good tickets, I'll dm you on Instagram or something." You suggested to her, Sasha eagerly nodding her head. You conversed with the group of five, Mason giving you a particular look that you had mirrored back to him. You planned on getting his number, and making sure he showed you around London.

Soon enough, the group was heading back to wherever they were staying, as it was beginning to get quite late. "Thank you guys for coming, and I'm so glad I met you."

Mason stayed behind, folding his arms and sharing a smirk with you as his friends voices trailed down the hallway. "So, about this bet."

"Yeah," you replied casually, grabbing your water bottle from the table and taking a sip, being in the presence of an attractive man again was giving you quite the nerves, "I'll take your number, because I'd love to get to know London." He nodded, grabbing his phone from his jacket pocket and handing it to you.

"Perfect. See you."

You and Mason had planned your first meeting in a pub. It wasn't the classiest of places, but your plan was to get to know the UK. Mason had ordered you both a drink, guessing what you like and nailing it when you went in for a second sip and shoved a thumb up.

"So," he began, fiddling with the coaster his beer sat on, "how long are you in London for?"

"Just until Thursday, Friday morning I'm heading to Manchester." You stated, realising you only had four days with Mason, including today.

"Well, we better make the days count then." Mason declared. The pair of you spoke about his career as well as yours, talking about how different school was for the pair of you. Mason had stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, and you'd accepted it without complaint. He led you out of the pub and through the town center, gazing at the stalls set up around you. The weather wasn't so different to New York, both constantly dreary, but you were liking London so far.

On your second day together, you'd taken a cab to another town, this time to just experience the busy streets. To Mason, this was normal. For you, it was only familiar. New York was one of the busiest cities in the world, but London was different, better in every other way. You'd finished your day together, stomachs full of pub food, and in the back of a cab, rain pattering on the windows. You'd shuffled closer to Mason, placing your hand on his and squeezing. He looked at you briefly, smiling his usual smile, before quickly looking out at the street in an effort to hide his tinged cheeks.

Day three, the weather was too bad to do anything. But Mason kept you company in your hotel room. He'd taught you a bunch of British slang, laughing as your accent completely butchered them all. You'd shown him a snippet of your new song before room service had arrived. And the night ended with the pair of you collapsed in your bed, tv playing in the back ground, but your eyes on each other. It was like pure magic, the long-awaited feeling of his lips on yours. You'd been thinking about it all day, missing every opportunity until now.

Your final day was the worst. You both knew it was coming, you wouldn't see him until you had a break, and he had one too. You both had stupidly busy schedules, as well as living in different countries. Maybe one day you could bring him to New York, show him your side of life. And maybe one day you'll branch out and move here.

Mason had helped you carry your things out of your hotel room, which was taking you to Manchester. Your manager had texted you to be in the car before 3, which meant you had just 10 minutes until you had to say goodbye to Mason for a while.

You were stood in the foyer of the hotel, waiting for the car to arrive. You'd secretly hoped it didn't, you wanted to stay with Mason for a while longer, but you couldn't. Duty called.

"Thank you for showing me around London," you spoke, looking up at Mason, who was hiding his deflated feelings, "I really enjoyed it, I might even prefer it to New York."

"That's a given. I'm here." He joked, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. These four days had been immense fun for him, different to how he usually spent his days. Different than night at home alone, different than a night on the town. Was it too soon to say he missed you?

Mason looked down at you as you clung to his side, hoping he felt the same way you did. And he did, you just didn’t know that. His fingers slid across your jaw slowly, pulling your chin up to look at him. It was an intense moment, so many different emotions. He’d leaned in and kissed you, it was his parting gift. To say that he’d see you soon enough.

“Enjoy Manchester, I’m sure I can fit another show in somehow.” Mason spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You spoke, the car pulling up outside. He’d dragged your suitcases out to the car, popping them in the boot for you. Finally, he stared at you through the window, which you quickly rolled down. “I fancy you, is that the right term?”

Mason laughed, head tipping back slightly. “Yeah, it is. And I fancy you too.”

[buggiesbuzzing]

First Dates with The BAU

• It took absolutely forever for Rossi to ask you out — he only came to his senses after Hotchner cornered him.

DAVID ROSSI

• Both of you are BAU agents and you had only been on the team for a few months; Aaron started to see Dave get distracted by you and he finally confronted him about it.

• David invited you over to his place for dinner and a movie, and honestly when he asked you over, you nearly fainted.

• You arrived 15 minutes early, so you ended up sitting in your car giving yourself a pep talk until it was exactly 6:30, which was the time agreed upon.

• When he opened the door, he was speechless.

• You were dressed like you'd been going to a charity ball. You were absolutely dazzling.

• He didn't hesitate to step aside and let you into his home.

• The smells. The warmth. Everything felt like something out of a dream.

• Rossi told you stories and charming jokes over dinner; he made you his favorite meal, carbonara.

• The evening was going really well and your face had started to ache from how much you'd been smiling.

• Overall the night felt like a dream, other than the fact that you'd drank a bit too much wine when you were trying ease your nerves.

• Rossi ended up snatched your keys and gave you a pair of pajamas to change into.

• He'd picked out some classic Italian film for you guys to watch after your meal, and you snuggled up to Dave's side to watch it.

• After the movie, he led you to a guest room in his self-proclaimed mansion and got you into bed before saying goodnight and leaving.

• Unbeknownst to you, he checked in on you every half hour for the next 3 hours before passing out in his own room a couple doors down from the one you were in.

• You woke up the next morning to Dave with a cup of coffee and an over the counter pain pill.

• Dave gave you back your keys and said his goodbyes before letting you head off to work.

• You always had a go bag stashed in your car, so you didn't bother driving home, and you headed off to Quantico.

• When you had gotten into work, Derek approached you, but before he could say anything about your sunglasses or your clearly disheveled appearance, you held your hand up to silence him and scuttled to the bathroom, go bag in hand and dreading all the questions you'd be asked today.

• Aaron had met you during a case, seeing as your brother was their unsub.

AARON HOTCHNER

• You instantly felt a connection when he first spoke to you, but didn't act on it until nearly 6 months after the case was closed.

• Agent Hotchner gave you his personal number if you'd ever needed to talk and one day, you took advantage of that.

• It was the anniversary of your brother being put in prison and you were exceptionally emotional - which ended up in a sad and tipsy call to the agent.

• Aaron's day was just going to be dedicated to paperwork from his latest case, but he decided he'd get to it another time.

• You were a hot mess when Hotchner arrived, but you couldn't bring yourself to get off of the couch and fix yourself up.

• He quickly picked up on what you were going through; a few cans of fruity flavored beer were semi-crushed and sitting on your coffee table along with a pint of sugary sweet ice cream and what looked like a nest of blankets was piled up on your couch.

• He easily made his way through your apartment since he'd been there before and got you a glass of water to try and help sober you up.

• He talked you through your tears and pain, all while making sure you were well taken care of.

• Before you realized it, it was 5pm and Aaron was still sitting beside you on your couch.

• For the last few minutes, you'd been watching some old kids shows in silence; it was just something that helped you calm down and he was actually enjoying the time he'd spent with you.

• You got up from the dent in the couch that you'd been wallowing in and stretched.

• There was no way you were going to cook tonight, so you ordered a couple of large pizzas to be delivered.

• Both of you had eaten pizza and you chattered about some whacked out theory about the show Rugrats, while Aaron just listened and made sure you were distracted from whatever turmoil that your brothers villainy had caused.

• When the day was over and Aaron was ready to return home to his son, he gave you a card for a support group that he thought would benefit you.

• And that's where you expected it to end; after all this was just him doing his job, right?

• Wrong.

• He showed a kind of bashfulness that you absolutely did not expect from the stern man, and he asked if he could take you out on an actual date.

• Obviously, you said yes.

• Your first date wasn't ideal, but, both of you enjoyed your time together.

DEREK MORGAN

• Derek went to a club with Penelope and Emily when he first met you and right off the bat he was into you.

• You started talking and instantly clicked — unfortunately, he couldn't spend the night with you due to being called into work, but you set up a date to see each other again, then you exchanged numbers and he disappeared.

• The first few times you'd try to go out on a proper date with him, he'd keep getting called into work beforehand, so he'd have to take a rain check.

• Finally, he was actually free for a night and you invited him over to your apartment for dinner and some drinks.

• He arrived only seconds after the clock struck 5PM and god you were awestruck as soon as you seen him.

• This man made you question how clothes could be tight and yet, still seem loose.

• Happily, you let him into your home which had a warm glow and atmosphere; your lights were dimmed, soft music was playing throughout the house, the delicious scent of food being cooked was in the air — it was amazing.

• You made an array of drinks for the both of you and conversed about anything either of you could think of.

• Derek charmed his way into dancing around the room with you before you'd have to take the food you were cooking off the heat.

• Dinner was about the same; the male joked and chattered, throwing out compliments here and there.

• The night seemed perfect, you even got in a couple of smooches — and then his phone started ringing.

• You understood when he had to leave, which was around 10PM.

• He promised he'd make it up to you and take a full vacation day for you, so you could have a date night at his place next.

JENNIFER JAREAU

• Originally, the plan was for you to be Henry's caretaker while JJ was working — though it deviated sometime after about 6 months of being employed by her.

• You had major crush on your boss, and sometimes, it felt like she was in the same situation; though you doubted it.

• One night before tucking Henry in for bed, he said he wanted to tell you a secret.

• “Mommy really likes you. . .”

• That simple phrase made butterflies become trapped in your stomach, but you tried to push them down.

• “I really like her too. . .”

• It felt good to actually say it.

• Now, confiding in a little kid about you liking their mom wasn't too wise; the secret wasn't kept for more than a week.

• Jennifer approached you one night after she'd came home from work — Henry was already asleep in his room and you were doing coursework for college when she asked to have dinner with you tomorrow night.

• You didn't even hesitate to accept her invitation.

• The place wasn't very fancy, but that was 100% fine with you.

• It was a small 24 hour diner outside of town that had the best breakfast that you'd ever eaten.

• The two of you chattered about how Henry's fine motor skills and how his speech was developing, and how your classes were going.

• The night was perfect, she even went out of her way to drive yourself to your place — even though she insisted you stay at hers because it was rather late, but you needed to get some housework done, and chose to go home.

• That night, you spent nearly an hour thinking about the date before passing out.

SPENCER REID

• The good doctor met you during a case not too far off from Quantico.

• You were doing an hands on internship with a medical examiner and Dr. Reid happened to come by to get autopsy details and the toxicology report from a recent string of homicides that the BAU was investigating.

• Almost instantly, he struck something in you and you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

• The way he spoke so factually on the unusual way that this ‘unsub’ tortured his victims before they succumbed to death, just made you more interested in the supposed genius.

• Sooner than you'd hoped, the BAU wrapped their case up and you were in fear that the chance to actually talk to Spencer was about to slip between your fingers.

• That was until Spencer and Agent Rossi came in one last time.

• You swallowed the nervousness bubbling inside of you and quickly asked him for his number.

• To your surprise, he actually gave it to you rather quickly.

• He was just as entranced with you as you were with him.

• One night, you'd gotten off early and decided to invite Spencer over to your apartment.

• You'd fixed up a simple meal for the two of you and make sure your apartment was in tip-top shape.

• When he arrived, you were in awe. He was dressed up in a suit, which wasn't far from what you'd first seen him in, however he was glowing.

• He looked like he'd slept pretty well, he was donning a soft smile and holding out a small bouquet made up of red carnations, yellow jasmine flowers, and multicolored hibiscuses. They complimented each other well.

• You, of course, gracefully accepted the bouquet and welcomed him into your home, situating the flowers in an elegant vase at the table.

• You and Spencer spent the night talking about anything and everything; you found his knowledge fascinating and beautiful.

• The date ended in you both passing out intertwined in each others limbs on the couch while a cheesy rom-com played out on the TV.

EMILY PRENTISS

• Emily first seen you while you were doing an interview with Hotchner to join the BAU.

• The agents of the BAU sat, staring into the office as you smiled sweetly and spoke to Hotchner about your experience in criminal psychology and communications, and thus far he seemed intrigued.

• It was almost instantly that Emily was enamored; you were just too beautiful for her to ignore.

• About half an hour later, you and Hotch exited the office, he shook your hand with a look of accomplishment on both of your faces.

• With a loud clearing of his throat, any remaining agents or passerbys turned their attention to the head agent as he prepared to make an announcement.

• Applause erupted as your eyes scanned the room, landing on the black haired beauty that was SSA Emily Prentiss.

• “Will you please welcome our new agent, Y/n L/n, to the BAU.”

• You situated your new desk with the few belongings that you'd had in your bag.

• The work day was coming to an end while other agents put away any remaining paperwork that they'd been working on and out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the pretty agent from before approaching your desk.

• Obviously, you agreed and headed out with the rest of the group.

• “Hey, a few of us were going out to get drinks, and we were wondering if you'd like to come with us to celebrate you joining the BAU?”

• Agent Hotchner bought the first round of celebration drinks and made a toast in honor of their new agent.

• Not too long after the toast, Emily sat beside you and formally introduced herself before making conversation.

• The two of you spent the night learning about each other and talking about what your job may entail.

• After a while, and about 4 drinks, you were taking a cab with her back to her place.

• She insisted that you spend the night at her place and meet her cat, Sergio, and you agreed.

• The rest of the night was fuzzy, but you woke up in a bed that was unfamiliar with a cat laying on top of you and the smell of pancakes and bacon filling your nostrils.

• You carefully moved, the cat hopping off once he'd realized you woke up.

• Gently, you walked to the kitchen to find Emily cooking breakfest looking lively as ever.

• “Good morning, hotcakes.”

• With a nervous chuckle, you awkwardly asked if anything had happened between the two of you the night prior.

• “Oh heavens, no; we were both much too drunk. I slept on the couch.”

• A huge sigh of relief came from you as Emily sat a plate of food in front of you along with a couple asprin and a coffee.

• You thanked her for her kindness, but she waved it off with a pink tint rising to her cheeks and ears.

• You ate breakfast and headed to work together.

• Once you entered the BAU, SSA Morgan began wiggling his brows at Emily, earning a playful punch to the shoulder.

PENELOPE GARCIA

• You first met the effervescent Penelope Garcia when SSA Derek Morgan came into the ER with some minor injuries due to their latest mission; she, of course, was freaking out.

• “What if he's really hurt? Or — or —”

• She enveloped you in a hug, thanking you for your effort to calm her down, and you hugged her back with a comforting squeeze.

• “Don't worry, Miss Garcia, he only has some scrapes and bruises, he'll be back to normal before you know it. We're just making sure that he gets the proper care he needs before he can return to work.”

• After guiding her through some simple breathing exercises, her heart rate began to lower.

• Only moments passed before Derek came out with a smile and they had a small chat, which included Penelope scolding him for being reckless.

• Savannah came and picked Derek up, leaving you and Penelope alone in the empty waiting room.

• “Hey, so Miss nurse - sorry I didn't get your name. . .”

• “Well, Miss L/n, would you perhaps like to go out and get a drink with me, sometime?”

• “It's Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

• And with that, you got her number and met her the next week at a high end restaurant.

• You brought her some assorted roses and made sure the meal was paid for, although she tried to pay you, but you told her not to worry about it.

• You spent the night listening her speak about the things she was passionate about.

• Unfortunately, about half an hour passed by before you'd gotten called back in by the hospital.

• You drove Penelope to her apartment and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

• “I really enjoyed tonight, Penelope.”

• “I did too, Y/n, but next time I'm paying the bill.”

• She giggled and gave you a quick smooch before shuffling into the apartment, leaving you flushed as you headed back to work.

• “So there's going to be a next time?”

tags :: @wordvomit-foryourmind

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 5)

uh ohh, part 5 baby! im quite enjoying this story so far and i have some fun things planned for it, so i hope you’ll stay with me for them! in today’s part, our fav new celeb couple takes it all the way, though i chose not to include the actual sex part, however im still treating you all with some dirty stuff so enjoy!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4.6k

warning: NSFW content

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

New couple alert?

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N have been spotted having lunch and grabbing coffee several times in the course of the past few weeks. All the outings looked casual and friendly, they gladly stopped for fans that approached them and the word has it that they’ve been getting closer to each other, though neither of them confirmed anything.

Harry Styles has been known to be single for a while now, only faint rumors swirling up sometimes, but none of them were proven to be true, the young actress is the first woman he has been linked to in a long time. Y/N Y/L/N has been focusing on her blooming career and has been single since her split from long time exboyfriend and fellow actor, Levi Hudson. The pair dated all through 2018, splitting in the beginning of 2019. Hudson has admitted their hectic schedules made it impossible to maintain their relationship while Y/N did not confirm anything.

Styles is going on his world-wide tour soon, while Y/L/N is currently between two projects. The young celebs seem to be enjoying each other’s company and fans have been quick to jump into speculations about their alleged romance, however there is no evidence as of right now.

“Thank you so much for your time, it was a pleasure to talk to you,” the young interviewer smiles at you, holding her hand out and you shake it with a warm smile.

“Thank you for having me! And I really like your shoes, by the way,” you point down at her electric blue pumps that you’ve been eyeing since the start of the interview.

“Oh, thank you! Got them from a vintage store,” she beams, a slight blush playing on her cheeks clearly a little starstruck from your compliment.

“Love those little stores.”

“Me too,” she giggles collecting her papers and notes. “Someone will contact you and your team soon about the photoshoot and I’ll email you a draft of the interview in about a week.”

“That’s perfect, thank you so much,” you nod at her grabbing your purse from the side table next to you. Grabbing your phone from the depth of it you smile to yourself upon seeing the text from Harry.

“Call me when you’re done with the interview Xx.”

You say your goodbye to everyone before heading out of the building. Lawrence is at the front waiting for you in the car and he greets you with a warm smile when you sit into the backseat. As he starts the car and heads back to your home, you call Harry, who picks it up after the second ring.

“Hey! How was the interview?” he beams brightly, his voice immediately making you smile.

“Great! This young girl did it and she had some exciting questions.”

“Sounds lovely. Can’t wait to buy a Cosmopolitan with you on the cover soon,” he says and you can hear the grin through his voice.

“Will look good in your hands for sure,” you chuckle.

“Right. So I have a question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“I’m doing this very small show at Beacon Theater this weekend, kind of a practice before the real tour begins and I was wondering if you’d be up to come. Would love to have you there.”

“When is it exactly?”

“Saturday at nine. I know it’s a short notice and I get it if you have something else going on, just wanted to ask.”

“I think I can make it work,” you smile, thinking back at what your day looks like on Saturday. “Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! Just let me know how many people so I can have the tickets sent over to you.”

“Thank you. It’s sweet of you to think about me.”

“You know I always think about you,” he murmurs and his voice sends a shiver down your spine. Crazy to think how much he can affect you with just his words, he just has a special spell on you, it seems.

“Still such a flirt, I see,” you chuckle, feeling your cheeks heating up as you hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line.

“For you, always.”

“Alright. I’ll text you about the tickets and thank you again. Can’t wait to see you perform finally.”

“It’s been due for a while now, right? Kind of promised you some tickets on Ellen, if I remember correctly.”

“You did!” you laugh thinking back at the time you met him. How funny that just one short game on a talk show led the two of you here. You have to thank Ellen though.

“Now I’m finally keeping my promise. Talk to you later then, Love. Have a great day.”

“You too, Harry.”

 You manage to convince Sydney to join you for the concert, she sounds excited when you ask if she had anything to do on Saturday. Seeing Harry perform before his tour kicks off is a thrill for her she wouldn’t pass on for anything, so she is really grateful that you thought of her as your plus one.

Harry has your passes sent over to your place on Friday and it comes with a bouquet of flowers as well as a card.

“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. What’s your favorite song? I’ll make sure to perform it just for you. –H”

He never fails to make you feel like the only woman on the planet and you can definitely see why so many fall for him even without meeting him. The man has all the power to charm anyone with just a smile.

You put the flowers into a vase and leave them on your dining table before grabbing your phone and sending him a quick text.

“It’s Only Angel,” you simply write, hoping he’ll get it why you just wrote that. Luckily, he does.

“Straight to the setlist. Dedicated to You.”

 Finishing up the last touches to your makeup you bop your head to the song blasting through the stereo. It’s Only Angel, of course. You’ve had it on repeat all afternoon and now you can’t wait to actually see Harry perform it live.

Just as you are about to get changed, Syd arrives so you let her in with a beaming smile and when she hears the music upon walking into your place she cheers in excitement.

“Yes! This is such a jam!” she smirks, doing a little dance as you lock the door behind her.

“You look fantastic, Syd,” you tell her. The black short dress looks amazing paired with the lilac oversized blazer. Her makeup matches the same color and you are obsessed with the fishnet tights. She will surely make men wish she was into them.

“Thank you! Spent two hours figuring out what to wear, so I hope I look fantastic,” she giggles.

She helps you put together your outfit as well. Wide legged flaming red pants that make your waist look snatched, a black sheer top tucked into it with just a black bralette underneath. You already know Harry will be a fan of the skin you’re showing, you can’t wait to see his face when he finally spots you.

You quickly pack your essentials into a black Chanel purse along with stuff you need for a possible sleepover if things might take a pleasant turn, and you finish with everything just when the doorman calls up through the intercom that Lawrence has arrived.

“So, what’s the deal with you and him, if I may ask?” Syd questions in the car, not in a nosy way, more like a curious, friendly way.

“We are… getting close,” you say, tasting the word on your tongue. You haven’t labeled whatever you have going on with Harry, nor do you really know what it should be called. You’ve been trying hard to make time for each other as much as possible, making small lunch and coffee dates a regular thing. He came over to your place one evening for a movie and that’s the only time you were able to be alone with him, though nothing sexual happened. Yet. The real deal is yet to happen and if you are being honest you are running short on patience. It’s getting harder to hold yourself back and keep your hands to yourself as well when you are out with him, but you agreed to keep it lowkey out in the public.

Tonight, however, you have a feeling what you’ve been waiting for so long might actually happen and you can only hope Harry is planning the same thing. You are absolutely ready to bluntly ask if he wants to spend the night at your place.

“But you’re heading… somewhere, right?”

“I hope so,” you smile shyly.

“That’s amazing. I think you two are a match,” Syd smirks at you.

By the time you arrive to the venue the gates have been opened so people are busy getting inside, giving you the chance to walk inside through the backdoors without any fuss.

“Miss, Harry requested me to usher you to his dressing room when you arrive,” the girl at the door smiles at you with a clipboard in her hands and a headset covering her ears.

“Oh, alright,” you nod, turning to Syd. “You go ahead and get us a good place,” you tell her and she nods walking away with a wave as she heads up to the second floor that’s fully reserved for friends and family.

Following the girl down the hallway you are led to a room that has Harry’s name on it. She gently knocks on the door and a few moments later it flies open, revealing Harry in a colorful suit and a simple white button-down shirt. He looks breathtaking, hair fixed perfectly and the wide grin stretching across his lips when he sees you standing there.

“You’re here!” he breathes out, grabbing your hand and pulling inside, snatching you away from the preying eyes. Once the door clicks closed behind you, he is quick to press his lips to yours in a sweet welcoming kiss. Ever since your first official date he hasn’t passed on any chance to kiss you whenever you had the luxury of privacy to yourselves, which hasn’t happened too much, leaving you both with a growing hunger for each other every time you meet.

“Mm of course I am,” you smile against his lips before pecking them one last time and leaning back. “Looking great, Mr. Styles,” you grin, taking your time to wander your eyes down on him.

“Yeah? Like the suit?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I love your outfit as well. M’gonna have a hard time not thinking about you on the stage.”

“Please think about me,” you breathe out with a coy smile.

“Don’t fucking say that to me, you are giving me a hard time,” he groans and you just chuckle at the tortured look on his face.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your face doesn’t meet your words. He squeezes your waist gently, pecking your lips in a rush before he lets go of you.

“I need to go over a few things before we start, so just go ahead and join Syd. Meet me here after the show?”

“Yeah, perfect,” you nod smiling. “Good luck out there,” you wink and he grins at you with bright eyes. His hands grab onto yours before you head out, pulling you in for one last kiss before you leave.

You feel flustered and you take a few deep breaths on your way up to the gallery to find Syd who managed to get an amazing spot at the front on the left side.

They offer everyone up on the gallery some champagne before the show starts and looking around you see a few familiar faces, but no one you specifically know. You stick with Sydney who is over the moon about the show and you are kind of sharing her excitement.

When the lights go down and the music finally starts, you can’t help but join in with the screams that fill the theater.

You’ve seen videos of him performing, in One Direction and solo as well. You’ve seen pictures and you’ve heard the words about how amazing he is on stage, but none of those live up to the actual experience. The sensation that takes over you just by seeing him appear on the stage as the whole theater chants his name as one, it completely sweeps you off your feet and for a second you wonder how you could live a life without this experience.

When his voice starts to flow through the massive speakers you need to take a deep breath, a shiver runs down your spine and you chug down the rest of your champagne so you could get rid of the glass and hold onto the railing with both hands because you feel like you need to ground yourself before you shoot into the sky.

Song after song, he performs perfectly, bringing every single person in the audience to that euphoric state they’ve been probably seeking their whole life. The experience is surely one of a kind, something you’ll definitely be thinking about for a long time.

Time seems to stop, though it cruelly carries on even when you forget about it completely. The concert is nearing its end and Harry takes a breather as he places his guitar to the stand behind him. You watch his every move as he walks back to the microphone, his gaze moving up to the gallery, roaming through the people until they find you.

“This last song is dedicated… to my Only Angel,” he murmurs into the microphone as the audience erupts, blows up at once and your heart skips a beat when his eyes linger over you for a little longer before the music starts to play.

You faintly hear Syd screaming next to you, probably aware that the dedication was addressed to you, but you can’t tear your eyes off of the man on the stage.

He nails it perfectly, looking like an absolute rockstar that he truly is and for a moment you can’t believe you have his attention and interest. How can such a precious and unbelievably talented man be in your reach?

Because I deserve great things in life, you tell yourself, a little mantra you’ve gotten around to repeat every time you found yourself doubting your success and happiness.

The concert eventually ends and though no one in the room desires the end of it, Harry leaves and you are abruptly brought back to reality.

“That was… something else truly,” Syd breathes out as the two of you linger around a little longer, trying to come down from the high you just experienced.

“Yeah. He is so fucking talented it’s almost unfair,” you chuckle running a hand through your hair.

“This tour will kill thousands of people all around the world,” she muses and for a moment, reality sets in and you realize that Harry will leave for his worldwide tour very soon, leaving you behind.

You get rid of the thought, not wanting to stress over something that’s not relevant just yet and you don’t want to ruin the evening either. Fears and stress can wait a little longer.

The two of you make your way backstage, walking into a bit of a chaos as all close friends and family want to congratulate to Harry and the band as well. Standing at the side you let everyone have their time, barely even seeing Harry in the sea of people in the spacious green room. Syd keeps you company as you wait and about thirty minutes later it seems like the crowd is starting to loosen up.

Harry spots you and excuses himself immediately from his conversation with a couple, heading in your direction with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his pretty face.

“Congrats, that was mind-blowing,” you smirk as he reaches you, a hand curling around your waist as he leans down and places a kiss to your cheek, keeping it as moderate as possible, though you both just want to jump at each other.

“Thank you, Love,” he nods, a blush tinting his cheeks from your words. “Hello Sydney, so great to see you again,” he greets the girl next to you and they share a short hug.

“Hi! Loved the show so much!” she giggles in excitement.

“Thank you for coming.”

The three of you chat for a while before Sydney says she is gonna call herself an Uber, so after saying her goodbye she leaves you alone with Harry, as much as you can be alone with a bunch of other people around.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he clears his throat as his hand finds its way back to the small of your back.

“Go for it.”

“We are gonna grab a drink at some bar, but nothing over the top and I wanted to ask if you would want to join.”

“Sounds good,” you smile, feeling a little disappointed. This is not exactly what you wanted him to ask. Luckily, he is not done with his questions.

“Also… I-If it’s cool by you, I thought that… maybe you could come over?”

“Mmm, go over and do what?” you tease him, your smile stretching wider with each passing moment.

“I have plenty of ideas, Love,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “We could drop by your place if you need anything to stay over.”

“No need. Packed a bag,” you slyly grin at him, taking him by surprise clearly, but it’s surely a pleasant one.

“Always a step ahead of me, huh?” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It takes some time to actually leave the venue and head off to the bar with a close group of friends of him and the band. A secluded area was already reserved for you that has its own bar, so you could enjoy the evening without worrying about preying eyes of strangers or fans. You really weren’t in the mood to keep your distance from Harry, this way at least you were able to touch each other in a more intimate way without speculations swirling up immediately.

You get to know his band and some of his friends, they are all genuinely amazing people, but you weren’t expecting anything else. You figured he only surrounds himself with people like him. His hands often find your waist and he doesn’t shy away from kissing your cheek or giving your hips a gentle squeeze, just letting you know you have his attention and he appreciates that you’re there.

It’s nearing one am when the guests start leaving and soon enough you find yourself in the back of your car with Harry, heading to his place, while you try your best to keep your hands away from him. You wouldn’t put Lawrence through the trauma of having to see or hear something he shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop you from kissing, something you’ve been dying to do all night. Your hand rests on his thigh while he has an arm curled around your shoulders, keeping you tight by his side, delicately brushing his nose against your hair every time your lips are not connected.

“Thank you, Lawrence. I’ll call myself a taxi in the morning, have the day off,” you tell your driver who smiles in your way thankfully while Harry grabs your and his bags from the back of the car.

“Thank you, Miss. Enjoy your night,” he nods in your way as you shut the door closed.

You try to take your duffel bag from Harry, but he insists to carry it as the two of you walk inside his house.

“Want something to drink? Water, tea or something?” he asks, setting the bags down near his giant, comfortable looking couch. Your thoughts immediately wander to a dirty field, picturing him sitting on that very couch as you kneel in front of him, pleasuring him so good that his eyes roll back…

“Yeah, water please,” you say clearing your throat. Some hydration will come handy after the drinks you chugged down at the bar.

You follow him as he shuffles into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and a bottled water from the fridge for you, pouring some into the glass before handing it to you.

“Thank you. You have a nice place for yourself,” you tell him, looking around in his home.

“Thanks. Been working on it for a while,” he chuckles softly. “Feels a bit too big for just myself though.”

You finish the water and set your eyes at him, feeling your hunger for him grow with each passing moment. Placing the empty glass to the marble counter you take a step closer to him.

“You feel lonely often?” you question in a low voice. His eyes return to you and you are happy to see the same lust in them.

“Would say so, yes,” he nods, running his tongue over his pink lips before he reaches out and grabbing you by your hips, he draws you close to him. Leaning down his lips brush against the shell of your ear, a shiver runs down your spine when you hear his whisper in it. “Hope it’ll change soon.”

At a loss of patience, you grab his face and angle it perfectly so you can kiss him hard. And by hard, you mean real hard. He stumbles back from the force, but manages to keep his balance, returning the kiss just as vehemently as he receives it, a tug of war starting between the two of you.

His hands work fast on the sheer fabric of your shirt, pulling it out from the waistband of your pants, getting rid of it eagerly as his lips wander down on your neck, collarbones and chest. He easily turns the two of you around so you are pushed against the edge of the countertop, his hips pushed against you and it’s clearer that daylight just how excited he is to have you here tonight. Your eyes flicker over to the couch again and the desire to please him with your mouth just bursts, you can’t hold yourself back anymore.

So you push him away from you, grabbing his wrist and yanking him after you, heading towards the couch. You push him down and his lustful eyes follow every move of yours as you kneel in front of him and he realizes what you are about to do. He doesn’t stop you when you work to unbutton his pants, but his hand finds your chin and he pulls you up for a swift, but passionate kiss.

Once you successfully undid his pants he lifts his hips and you spare some time and energy, pulling them down along with his underwear, leaving him only in his vintage printed t-shirt as his cock springs free. You push your thighs together just at the sight of him, the way his eyes burn down on you, how his lips part when your gazes meet and the way he sucks on his breath when your fingers dig into his thighs near his crotch as you situate yourself closer.

“I believe I owe you an orgasm, don’t I?” you ask with a cheeky smirk before wrapping your left hand around the base of his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get him even more excited. A whimpered moan slips from his lips and you lean closer, giving his cock a lick from bottom to top, wrapping your lips around the head as you swirl your tongue around it.

“Fuck hell!” he breathes out, clearly enjoying himself, hands fisting the cushion next to him, but you bet they’ll be buried in your hair soon.

You’re not an expert in the field of blowjobs, but it’s been your thing to come barging right through the door and jump the easy teasing whenever you were on your knees for a man. So with your hands fixed on his beautiful face, you sink down on him, his cock gliding into your mouth right until the tip reaches the back of your throat, earning the loudest moan you’ve heard from him. Shutting your eyes closed you keep him like that for a second until the urge to gag starts to set in, so you slide him out, your saliva dripping down his erection as your eyes meet his and you can tell you shocked him with your bold first move.

“Do that one more time and I won’t last for a minute,” he warns breathing heavily and you just smirk up at him before going into action again, this time only taking a smaller portion of him, pumping the base to make up for the lack of deep throating, but it appears that he enjoys just the simple part of it equally. As you keep bobbing your head, taking as much of him as you can without gagging, his right hand flies to your hair, taking a handful of it as he gently guides your head, keeping it in the rhythm that works the best for him and you happily let him do whatever makes him feel good.

When your free hand goes to gently massage his balls your name erupts from him in the most voluptuous way you’ve heard him call out for you. As if he just cried out for God himself.

“Y/N, fuck, I won’t last long,” he warns you, but that’s all you want. You need to see him come undone under your touch, you want to be the reason his breath hitches. Picking up your pace you see him whimper some more, head falling backwards to the back of the couch. It’s a heavenly view and you wish you could take a picture of his beauty as he enjoys himself on this intimate level. You’ve never wanted to please a man more than him and just seeing him in this blissful state makes you wet through your underwear.

When his breathing starts to get uneven, chest heaving wildly, you take all of him again, his head poking the back of your throat and you push your tongue against his length as you slide him out, picking up the same pace that you kept before, both hands working hard on him.

“Fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!” he warns again and just a few seconds later, you feel the evidence of his satisfaction spurt into the back of your throat, eyes falling on you as you give him one last lick before swallowing everything that’s in your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out pulling you up, eagerly kissing you without a second thought, his hands cupping your cheeks to keep you in place. “You surely know how to kill a man, yea?” he huffs making you chuckle.

“Think you can go for a second one?” you sheepishly ask, blinking up at him from under your long lashes.

“I’ll have enough time to recover while I eat you out like you’re my last meal,” he bluntly replies, and a moan almost slips from your lips.

“Show me what you got, Styles,” you challenge him and he doesn’t need more, he easily picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he heads straight to the bedroom.

“As you wish, Angel,” he mumbles against your skin, peppering your neck and shoulder with featherlike kisses along his way until he throws you to his bed, ruthlessly tearing the remaining of your clothes off your body.

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[ptergwen]

play the game

w/c: 2.2k

summary: an interview question catches you off guard

a/n: this is kinda random but i wanted to write something just fun n cute with actress!reader so this is what we got enjoy everyoneee

-

“ooh, these are always fun,” tom murmurs to you. he pushes a bucket of questions to the middle of the table. you turn it towards yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

you’re at buzzfeed promoting the next spider-man. it’s just you and tom for this one. zendaya and jacob are doing their own interview in the room next to yours. you’re usually paired with the two of them, but tom joins your group sometimes. you find yourself much more intimidated by him than the camera whenever he does. not because he scares you. you’ve actually become close friends over filming.

it’s because you never know what he’s going to say. tom is a flirty guy by nature, and he’ll play it up even more if he has an audience. he loves to give them a good laugh. spark a few rumors maybe, only to get people talking about the movie. the idea itself isn’t half bad. the effect it has on you is what you worry about.

you’ve had a pretty big crush on him that started the same time your friendship did. in your defense, how could you get to know him and not fall? he’s one of the most genuine people on earth, he calls you cute british pet names, he makes you laugh on set during a stressful take. he’s just so charming. he charmed you, after all.

so much as a wink at you and your cheeks would be burning. the last thing you need is for the whole world to see that. it’s bad enough he would, too. you’re hoping he keeps the playfulness at minimum for your interview. with you being the only person he has to bounce off of this time, you’re not sure he will.

“i feel like the fans always ask better questions than interviewers,” tom jokes and takes a slip of paper out of the bucket. he reads it to himself with a snort. “what does it say?” you peek over his shoulder. he folds it again before you can see. a smirk pulls at his lips. “you’ll find out.” “you’re not even supposed to look at them yet,” you huff, reaching to grab the paper. tom drops it back into the bucket.

looking off to the side, he breathes a laugh out of his nose. he’s so annoying about keeping secrets. you push at his shoulder with a smug smile. “can you ever just, like, behave?” “around you? no, i can’t,” tom teases, the hint of a smirk still on his face. this is exactly what you were dreading. what’s worse is you haven’t even started the interview. thank god the cameraman gets your attention.

“all ready. you two start whenever you want.” he gives you a thumbs up from behind the camera. tom scoots closer to you in his chair. his knee is touching yours. it’s such a childish thing to care about, but your heart speeds up. “thanks, man. i think we’re good.” he glances at you to make sure. “yeah?” “yeah, we can start.” your voice is higher than usual, which only happens when you’re nervous. you clear your throat.

the little light on the camera turns red. that means you’re recording. tom beams into it, sounding cheery as ever when he introduces himself. “hey everyone, i’m tom holland.” he holds out a hand to present you. you can’t help but smile at his antics. “i’m y/n y/l/n. we’re gonna be answering some questions you guys sent in.”

“there are a few prompts in here, too,” tom adds, eyes meeting yours for a second. “we have to act them out. let’s get into it.” you raise your eyebrows at the camera. spinning the bucket in his hands, he holds it out to you. “ladies first.” “when he has manners,” you deadpan, getting a giggle out of tom. his stupid adorable laugh that gives you butterflies. holding back a smile, you pull out a paper slip.

“tell us about gwen stacy and peter’s relationship in the movie,” you read off and push the paper to the other end of the table. “i mean, it’s not a relationship. it’s a new friendship,” you explain. tom nods in agreement. “yeah. peter is still after mj in this film.” squinting into the camera, you try to think of a description that won’t spoil you being spider-gwen.

tom digs into the bucket for the next question, but keeps his eyes on you. you hold up a finger when you get it. “my gwen is with spider-man more than peter. that’s all i’m gonna say.” “nice. very smooth,” he teases and unfolds the paper. “how hard was it to do all your stunts?” you shoot him a knowing look. there were a few the two of you had to do together.

they weren’t anything major because you’re not trained like tom is. a lot of the time, you only watched him do insane flips and leaps before simply entering the scene. he’d come back to your trailer after and complain about how sore he was while laying his head on your shoulder or some other part of your body. stunt days were exhausting.

“you know, i’ll be honest. they were awful.” tom shakes his head with wide eyes. you let out a quiet laugh. “not because they were bad or anything. the stunts look amazing. but, they really hurt.” he tosses the piece of paper at the one you just answered to create a pile. “the amount of ice you had to put on your body,” you giggle to him, tom joining in your laughter. he sighs. “i raided the freezer in your trailer every day.”

grinning at the memories, you reach into the bucket for your next question. you’re still smiling when you read it. “this one’s a prompt. it says to do an impression of each other.” tom eagerly sits up in his chair. his leg brushes yours again in the process. you catch your lip between your teeth. “easy. i’ll go first.” he hasn’t started, but you roll your eyes.

“we’ll all be watching a movie and she’s like,” he switches to his american girl accent before continuing. “isn’t that guy so hot? he’s literally so hot, guys. how do you not see it?” your mouth dropped open, you bump his knee under the table. “oh my god, what?” “and it’s always the most basic looking person, too,” he goes on, pressing his lips together in shame for you. you make the same face.

“someone sounds a little jealous.” “it’s not me,” tom scoffs, still playfully making fun of you. you narrow your eyes at him. “ok, my turn.” he’s biting back a smile while you get yourself ready. “ello, love,” you start in an exaggerated british accent. he closes his eyes in defeat. “i love golf. i’m like an old man, innit? i fu-“ you put a hand over your mouth in the same way he does. “i forgot i can’t swear.” tom claps slowly for you.

“bravo, y/n. you didn’t miss a thing, love.” he emphasizes the last word. there goes one of his infamous pet names. he’s just repeating what you said, but it still makes your heart clench. your favorite is when he calls you darling. it sounds so perfect falling from his lips. that being said, you wouldn’t have been able to control your reaction if he called you it right now.

you shrug your shoulder and give him a cheesy grin. “i know i didn’t.” “right, next question.” tom grabs the bucket back from you with a pretend glare. he gasps before reading it out loud. “who’s your favorite cast mate? that’s wicked!” you move your head forward dramatically. “that’s not fair!”

tom drums his fingers on the table. “jeez, you guys are ruthless. i’ll say y/n because she’s right next to me.” you don’t miss a beat. “um, i’m saying zendaya.” you nod at the camera, tom pouting. “love you, z.” “i should change my answer to jacob, then,” he mutters childishly. exhaling, you pull out the next question. there are only two left after this.

“or maybe marisa,” tom keeps throwing names out. “are you done yet?” you ask like you’re his mom. he is acting like a kid, to be fair. “no.” “will you be done if i say you’re my favorite?” he perks up. “yes.” looking him in the eyes, you put your free hand on his arm. “tom, you’re my favorite cast mate.” “thank you.” his sarcastic tone matches yours. he tilts your chin up with the tips of his fingers. “my love.”

you’re quick to turn your head before you let yourself lean into his touch. you’d never recover. for one thing, you’ll think about it too much. another, it would give tom something to tease you about.

pretending to be disgusted, you unfold the paper. your expression relaxes when you look over the question. it’s kind of sweet. “what was your favorite scene to film together?” “all of them,” tom answers right away. “that’s a cheat answer,” you laugh out. he shrugs and looks down at the question. “i’m being serious. i really loved working with you.” his eyes meet yours. “every second of it.”

he’s being genuine. it’s probably to make up for tormenting you this entire interview. all you know is, the fans will definitely start talking. you find it nice either way. “aw, tom,” you coo, him nodding his head. “what was yours?” you’ve never thought about it. you shared so many special memories while making the movie. but, there is one that sticks out to you.

“our last scene. it was a really, like, emotional day because we were wrapping.” tom already knows what you’re going to say next. his lips curl into a smile. “i cried before we started shooting it, so he kept hugging me and said i’d ruin my makeup.” you rest your head on his shoulder for a few seconds, returning the smile. his arm slings around your waist.

“yeah, i felt so bad. your crying face just breaks my heart,” tom tells you with a head shake. you lift yourself off of him and wiggle your eyebrows. “that’s what every actor wants to hear.” “you’re ridiculous. do the last question.” he taps the bucket twice. he’s still holding your waist. “isn’t it your turn?” “it’s the one i read earlier. you read it now.” eyebrows knitted together, you pick out the slip. it’s a prompt.

this has to be a joke. no one in their right mind would have you do this on camera. what kind of interview would this be? blinking a few times, you hold it closer to your face. “it... it says to kiss each other.” you crumple the piece of paper up, face still scrunched in confusion. buzzfeed probably decided to mess with you two. “are we actually supposed to?”

“yep. a fan sent it in,” the cameraman interjects. you look at tom in a panic. he was all smiley about this earlier. now, he’s taking it seriously. “why would we...” you’re too flustered to finish your sentence. tom squeezes your waist. “it’s what the people want. i want it, too.” you can feel your stomach drop. “would’ve said something if i didn’t. do you?”

of course you do. for the past year or so, you’ve been craving to taste that mint chapstick he’s constantly applying. you can’t believe it’s finally going to happen in front of millions of people. technically eight people right now, but the whole world eventually. you’re afraid he’s only going through with it for the movie promotion. for a good thumbnail.

“are you only doing this for promo?” you whisper so the camera doesn’t pick it up. you need his real answer. “never. the promo just gives me an excuse.” his eyes dart from yours to your lips. he inches his face closer. you gulp. “can i kiss you?” he asks lowly. “mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut.

his lips brush yours before he closes his eyes. he kisses you softly, his other arm wrapping around you. your hands go to his shoulders when you kiss back. it’s everything you’ve been needing, been dreaming of for so long now. he tastes even better than you expected. tom breaks the kiss first. a grin instantly spreads across his face. “we’ll continue this later,” he says only to you.

your lips and whole body feel tingly. you give him a goofy smile in return, looking at the camera over your shoulder. “thanks to whoever sent that one in. thank you so much.” you laugh in disbelief. tom turns and faces forward. “i think this is a good place to wrap things up,” he chuckles. “thanks for watching! we hope you enjoyed!” you wave. tom points at the camera. “see us again in theaters next week, if you did.”

the camera clicks off, and everyone else in the room starts chatting. you can’t imagine the headlines that are going to come out about you two. at the same time, you don’t care. you’re too happy. you move your arms up to wind around his neck. tom sighs in content. “i like you, too. in case you couldn’t tell.” he never stops finding ways to shock you. “how did you know i like you?” you groan.

“from one actor to another, you’re not good at hiding it.”

[gingerxarmy]

Confessions pt2 - Reader x Driver

So here we have part two of Confessions . I had a hard time to understand how much I wanted to actually write. But it ended with some hard makeout session at the end. So if you ain't comfortable to read it to (--), it's nothing graphic more than naked skin. BUT ENJOY!

You ended up meeting him for the date night he promised you

Words: 2700 (ish)

Warning: Mention of alcohol and smut-ish

To overthink was nothing new, somedays you had better days, but lately it has been a constant thing for your to-do-list, everything started when you realize that he was the only one with a new phone number. You couldn’t contact him, if you didn’t send a direct message on Instagram. But thanks to him being a famous racing car driver you knew that he wouldn't be contactable on the app.

After that night you had been waiting for a text, a phone call or just something to ease your racing mind. To make you know that he thought about you just as much that you thought about him. He had confessed his love to you. If he wasn’t just drunkenly babbling stuff. But drunk sayings are sober thoughts as they say.

One thing that really made you uneasy is his reputation, what was so special about you that made him want to change? It was an open secret around the sport that he was a player. He always liked the attention, the girls flocking around him. Or so it appeared in interviews and videos. He would give a lucky girl a night to remember, but for him, it was only a challenge to get a girl the fastest and take her home. And you, you weren’t a one night stand kind of person, never been and never will be.

So here you are now, one and a half weeks later, in total radio silence. Waiting for him to reach out. In the heat of the moment you didn’t think about getting his number as well when he asked you about yours. And it felt wrong to send him a message on Instagram of all places. And who knews, he probably never checks his direct messengers on the named app. If it was you, you wouldn’t even bother to check the thousands of messengers they probably get sent everyday.

With phone in hand you scrolled through Instagram, trying to smooth the nagging feeling in your chest by looking at his profile. The whole circus was in the Netherlands this weekend to race. The new posts from this week were only pictures on his car from practise sessions. Which in say might not be so bad, the car’s livery is amazing this seson and you couldn’t say that it wasn’t kind of hot to see him drive on track. But just in this moment, you missed his face. Just to see in his eyes that he maybe did just as bad as you did to be countries apart.

You sight and put away your phone, it doesn’t make anything better to be here, late at night, looking at pictures of a man who probably only thought about racing this weekend. It was late, midnight was soon about to pass and you were working tomorrow. Bedtime it is, you decided.

After brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed you heard your phone go off. Vibrating like it’s life depended on it in the silence of your apartment. You picked it up and faced the display, unknown number it said. Who would be calling you at this time? A small part in you hoped that it would be him. That he had been laying awake, thinking about you, not being able to sleep and just needed to call you, hear your voice. You answered the call with hope in your chest. What if it wasn’t him?

“Hi,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you held when a familiar voice came through the line. “I’m sorry that I haven’t called earlier. It’s been a stressful couple of days.” You could hear it in his voice how tired and apologetic he sounded.

“It’s alright. I understand, It’s been a lot for me too,” you lied. It had been calm at work the past couple of days and it stressed you out. You needed customers to keep your pub going and the few regulars wasn't enough anymore when the business premises rent increased.

“So, I’ve been thinking about that date we talked about.” He said and your heartbeat started to race. Was he actually serious about that date after all?

“Yeah, what did you realise from that?” You let yourself ask.

“That I miss you, dearly,” you melted. He was actually serious! Or so you hoped that he was. “And we have two weeks till the next race after this one. So I thought about paying you a visit. If that’s not a problem. And like, I don’t know, make that drink I now owe you.”

“I would love that,” you smiled to yourself.

“Perfect, I really need to sleep now. But I call you and we make up the day and time!” You let out a small giggle and agreed, wishing him good luck on the weekend and a good night’s sleep before ending the call. The anxiety you had felt the last couple of days disappeared in an instant, making you fall asleep with a smile stuck on your face.

***

It was five days after the phone call that you decided to meet up, he was supposed to pick you up at five to invite you to dinner at his place, at his place! You were elated and had been trying to pick out something to wear for the last hour. What was the meaning for this date? Get to know each other? You had been talking at your pub for months. Sure, you didn’t know who he was alone, between the four walls he called home. But you could say that you knew who he was quite well when he was out. But five different dresses, two pairs of jeans and a skirt later you decided for something casual. A dress would be fine, it was quite sexuall in you should be honest but you felt yourself tonight. It was him, you had seen him drunk more times that when you had seen him sober at this time.

Five past five you got a text messenger that told you that he was outside, waiting. Putting on a jacket and your shoes, you made your way outside. His sports car stuck out along the sidewalk, making you feel small and out of place. He was rich, you knew that, but did he have to flex it on you?

You open the car door and slink into the soft seat. It was an amazing car, the outline of it made it easy to look at and the inside was screamingly expensive.

“Hi, you look beautiful tonight,” he said quietly. It made you feel better that he acted as nervous as you felt.

“Thank you,” you gave him a smile as he put a hand on your bare thigh. As a reflex you put your hand on his. Everything felt so natural, like the two of you had done this thousands of times before.

“I’m going to say this now so you are aware. But I got a spare room! But I promised you drinks and I’ve been to the shop just now, and I’m going to drink as well so I won’t be able to drive you home later.” You appreciated his honesty. But if you should be honest, you had been secretly wishing for a night at his place.

“I’m fine about that. Kind of had it coming when you talked about alcohol involved.” You watched the city move past the windows off the car as he drove you two, music on low volym and his hand still on you. Your chest is warm with so many feelings that you couldn’t name.

The car ride wasn’t long, the both of you had made smalltalk about the previous race weekend and his result. How he felt about it and what he expected for the next one. It was easy, almost too easy, you couldn't shake it off how everything felt so right.

“So, this is me.” He had said when you later had parked the car and made your way up to his apartment. He opened the door and the first thing you noticed was the view. It was a beautiful city you lived in and his apartment had the best view. The sun was setting and the pink and orange colors colored the white walls with a livingness you otherwise only saw in your dreams.

“It’s beautiful,” you say when you could tear your eyes away from the view to look around his home. It wasn’t big but it was really cossy. The kitchen was neat and the living room was framing the big windows that caught the beautiful city outside.

“Thanks, I thought about making you dinner first, don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning from my amazing drinks,” he said as he was on his way to the kitchen.

“Oh, please. I don’t think it’s something positive to kill someone on the first date you know?” He flashed you a challenging smile.

“If you say so.” The two of you started the dinner he had preplanned. You prepared the potatoes as he got the meat ready. Set the table and lit candles. It was melting your heart to get to do all this with him. To set the atmosphere together.

The food soon was placed on the table and you both enjoyed the meal. Talking about how both of your jobs went and what the plans were in twenty years, what you had for goals in life.

***

“Okay, I’ve been practicing. I’m not gonna lie.” He said as he started to take out a couple of bottles. “And because everyone likes Moscow Mule, I'm going to make one for you as a starter.” You nod in agreement as you watch him mix Smirnoff and Ginger beer.

A couple of minutes later he poured up two glasses, one each, and made his way over to the soffa where you had seated yourself with a pillow you found in your lap. You take the drink from him when he takes a seat next to you, an arm behind you on the backrest. You take a sip from the drink, trying it, seeing if it’s as good as the one you make daily.

“This is really good,” you say. And you can hear it in your own voice how the surprise came out.

“I said it before, I only go to your pub to get to see and talk to you, I usually make my own drinks if I feel like drinking.” He says and you feel how he lays his arm around you, it’s hesitated but he hugs your shoulder and you can’t help yourself as you lay your head against his shoulder. Taking another sip on your drink.

The candles now on the coffee table in front of you make it perfect. The two of you, a drink each and the small tune of some romance playlist he absolutely should have playing in the background. You had been arguing about the music before you started to cook the food, but now, he was right. It was an amazing playlist and fit the mood.

You finished your drink when you saw that he was already done with his. You had decided that you should be taking turns on mixing drinks. You gesticulated for his empty glass and made your way over to the table he had put all the bottles on.

“One or two?” You ask.

“Hmm, which one is the strongest?” He asks with a smile on his lips.

“They are quite equal in that, but I think you would love this one,” you said and started to blend the ingredients. You bring the finished drinks back and give him his glass back. Watching him take a sip, trying it out.

“Oh, my God. This is amazing.” He says and takes another sip. You laugh.

“That’s the name of it. Isn’t it amazing. The Oh, My God drink.” You laugh and take a sip of your own.

“It’s an amazing name for it.” He places his arm behind you again, playing with the ends of your hair. Drinking the drink and watching the candle dance in front of you.

His hand found his way into your hair, feeling how it stops and how he starts drawing circles behind your ear. How he gently turns your head so the two of you face each other. You get eye contact before you turn your gaze away, the nervousness starts to creep up on you. Your heart sped up and you can’t help but let your gaze linger on his lips. Wishing for the plump lips to be on yours. But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the exact same thing. You could see how his lips came closer to your face as you let your eyes meet him. You can see the question in his eyes, licking his lips. And without overthinking about it, you press your lips to his, placing your drink on the table and then place your hand in his hair. Oh, what you had fantasised to drag your fingers through his hair.

He had placed his own glass at the table and soon had his hands on your hips, guiding your leg over his so you straddle his hips. Deepening the kiss as you feel his hands roaming your body as he tries to remember every inch of every curve that makes your body yours. You both high on each other, his hands not still on one place longer than a second and your hands in his hair, trying to get a grip on the situation. You feel how his tongue tries to get past your lips, and with no resistance at all, you part your lips. Both your tongues fight for dominance as you continue. But soon the air in your lungs ends and you need to break the kiss.

“If we continue this, I’m not sure I can end it.” He says breathlessly. His face is buried in your neck and you feel how he leaves kisses from your ear down to your collarbone.

“I don’t know if I want you to stop,” you let out a moan as he placed a kiss behind your ear on your sweet spot.

“You sure?” He asks, leaning back to look into your eyes. You meet his eyes and for a second you only sit like that. Letting the situation sink in, you in his lap, his kiss swollen lips and a desire for the both of you ecually strong for each other. You let your eyes close as you lean into his touch, breathing in his scent and feeling how he guides you to a new kiss.

--

“Then let's take this to the bedroom instead.” He grabs your lover back with one hand and carefully stands up by pushing himself up with the other hand. You lock your legs around his hips as his free hand finds its place under your bum, squeeze it as he connects your lips once again.

He guided the both of you to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss more than to breathe. He stops walking and you break the kiss to ask why he stops, but the only thing that leaves your lips is a small surprise sound as he drops you onto a soft fabrik, the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says and buries his head in the crock of your neck, leaving kisses downwards.

“So have I, and I hope all your rumors are more than talk.” He looks into your eyes before pushing your dress up, letting his hands explore your naked legs, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea what I can do to you,” and you hadn't, the evening had ended with the both of you, high of the orgasm and a new feeling he had named that day in your pub when he had first told you about his feelings. He was the love of your life as well. And you hoped that your story had only started.

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking 

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

[issaxcharlie]

You’ll always be the answer

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem Reader

Requested: YES💚

Summary: For the first time Charlie and Y/N have to do an interview together and things get pretty interesting and chaotic as always with the couple.

*In the wired autocomplete section the part of the question that was covered will be in bold*

Pretty much based in the we say we’re friends world, (yes, again😤 I love their dynamic I’m sorry) you only need to know that Y/N is a musician by profession, wrote the JATP soundtrack, a childhood friend of Charlie and now his current girlfriend.

The couple is completely excited because today they have their first interviews after the confirmation of the second season of Julie and The Phantoms, and usually they are not on the same interview team so this is new. Charlie always does them with the band and the singer usually does them with director Kenny Ortega representing the people behind the scenes.

“Hello everyone, I’m Charlie Gillespie and I play Luke in Julie And The Phantoms.”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L and I play Daniela in Stardust.”

“Baby, you are here today as the songwriter of the album.”

“I know?” She thinks for a few seconds until she realizes what she said. “Oh. Well, this is embarrasing. Make my selfpromo accident worthwhile and watch Stardust after watching JATP!”

“Nice safe, beautiful. Pretty natural.” Her boyfriend teases as she smiles proudly.

“I like to believe I could be an actress.” Charlie begins to laugh at the seriousness with which she answered and looks at her, full of happiness. He loves that they can enjoy moments like this where their careers can go exactly on the same track.

They know that it will not always be this way so they should make the most of the experience.

“I’m excited to have you back, Y/N. And a pleasure to meet you Charlie. You both sure are full of amazing energy, I love it. Let’s start with the questions. Charlie, this is your first leading and in a fairly complete role, you acted, sang, danced and even wrote one of the songs, how was the experience?”

“Pure magic. They are all incredibly talented and so supportive of us, they worked so hard to unleash our full potential in an accelerated manner. They had a lot of patience with me in the dance part, they taught me to use my voice properly, they supported me in the change to electric guitar, it was simply a dream to work with every single person in the project.”

“Sounds amazing. Next question is for you, Y/N. Much has been said about the unreal chemistry between Julie and Luke. How was it for you as his girlfriend to have to witness it live? As I understand you were present throughout the recording."

"Oh man, it was awesome!" Charlie laughs at her pure response and the interviewer looks at her in disbelief.

"I'm Team Juke all the way. I know I may sound like a liar or something since I'm the girlfriend, but here's the thing.

I can't see my Char in Luke. Charlie is so good at bringing him to life that I can't believe that cool rockstar is my adorable goofball. It’s like Clark and Superman with the glasses thing. Beanie and electric guitar? Oh, hi Luke. You are so hot, wait... don’t tell Charlie I said that! Bandana and acoustic guitar? Hey baby, give me a kiss in the forehead and sing me to sleep.

What I was saying again? Oh, yeah. So... I see Juke and I’m soft, they are perfect for each other.”

“So you think Luke is hot, huh.” he pretends to be jealous and folds his arms.

“What can I say, I have a thing for rockstars, my legs melted during now or never."

He snorted a laugh. “Good to know.”

The interviewer cannot contain a laugh of her own.

"It's always a pleasure to have you here, Y/N. You are such a character and I always enjoy listening to you, and I love that even though the years go by and you are no longer so new in the industry you continue to have that fresh and iconic personality."

“Thank you so much Maria, If I can be myself here it is thanks to the beautiful atmosphere that your interviews always have.”

“My pleasure, ‘golden star’. Let’s continue. Y/N, We know you already knew Charlie, but who did you get along with better from the rest of the cast?”

“Oh my, definitely Owen. He was Charlie's roommate throughout the project so we hang out together a lot in our free time taking turns as third wheel. I'm pretty sure he's going to apply the same card to me this second season now that I'm gonna be the roommate.

But it’s okay, I totally deserve it. May the best third wheel win, Joyner!” Charlie grins and does a fistbump with his girlfriend who looks really hyped about going back to Canada with the band.

“I’m rooting for you, girl! Let’s go back to Charlie a little bit. The album that Y/N wrote is a resounding success and a very important piece for the series to be as brilliant as they are. I imagine that the four of you have a special affection for the album, but how do you feel that your girlfriend was the one who wrote a soundtrack of that level for such a special project in your career?”

Charlie looks so proud. He looks at her in a way that makes the young woman blush.

“I’m just so blessed that the things happened they way they did. She’s the love of my life, you know? I couldn't be more proud to sing her songs. She has always been insanely talented and nothing gives me more happiness that knowing she gets to do what she loves and is able to share it with the world.”

The singer's eyes water and she puts her head on the actor's shoulder, who kisses her hair sweetly.

“You two are so pure and so cute to watch, I have a new favorite celebrity couple.”

They continue the interview for a few more minutes and then they have to move on to the second section, in which they are handed some boards with the most searched questions on the internet regarding them.

“Okay guys, introduce yourselves again. I’m not going to be in the segment this time so you’ll have to help each other.”

Both agree without confessing that they have seen videos of this segment until 5 in the morning when they have nothing to do the next day and have sleepovers.

“Hi, we are Charlie Gillespie and Y/N Y/L and will be doing the wired-autocomplete interview today!”

“Okay handsome, let’s start with yours.” Charlie smiles and takes the sign in his hands, while his girlfriend removes the first tape and reveals the first question.

“Does Charlie Gillespie have a girlfriend?” Charlie smiles proudly and kisses his girls nose.

“I do, and she’s so adorable.” He touches gently her cheek and she closes her eyes at his touch.

He gives her a light kiss in the forehead and then uncovers the next question.

“What is Charlie Gillespie like in real life.”

“I’ll answer this one, Char’s a total goofball. He is cheerful, funny, always full of energy, talented, caring, and really, really hot. All done, next question!”

He laughs while blushing and reveals the next one. “Is Charlie Gillespie married?”

“Well I tried but someone ate the ring.”

“I would do it again, it was really good. Answering the question, he is not yet, but he is taking too long, maybe one of these days I will declare myself.”

He opens his eyes wide, he knows very well that his girlfriend is capable of doing it, and honestly he wants to be who does it, so he makes a mental note to prepare everything soon. Thank god he is working on the rings already.

“It’s Y/N still dating...”

“If the question says Ross Lynch I’m goin’ to lose it. No shade though, man.”

She laughs, after the James Larkin show, a lot of people showed anger as they felt that she was a much better match with the blonde, and Charlie couldn't help but feel a bit offended.

“...Charlie Gillespie! Yes, baby!” Both high five, Charlie looks almost relieved, is adorable.

“The answer is always yes folks, get use to it.”

“Who is Y/N’s best friend?”

“Well, this one is easy.” She turns to see Charlie and gives him a flirtatious little smile. He blushes and reaches out to kiss her, but she answers the question just before their lips touch.

“Ross Lynch.” She leans over and presses her lips against his for a few seconds as Charlie reacts to her response and then gapes in disbelief.

“You did nOT.” He laughs and and wrinkles his nose feigning annoyance.

“Yes I dID. But to be honest, has to be this man right here. Not a lot people know this but we’ve been best friends all our lives, so yeah. You baby, of course.” He blushes and kisses her hand, clearly happy with the answer.

“Is Y/N going to be in Julie And The Phantoms S2?”

“Will you?” He asks, genuinely curious. She never tells him what Kenny secretly confesses her about the project so as not to be unfair to the other members of the band.

“I will, but probably still back the scenes, guys. I'm really enjoying this part and learning from the best of the best so I am very happy not to be in front of the camera for now.”

“And you are doing an amazing work, love.” She grins and kisses his cheek.

“Thank you for watching us being ridiculously corny for 30 minutes, don't forget to watch Julie and the Phantoms Season 2 only on Netflix! I feel sorry for that poor people that will have to see how cheesy we are.”

“We were still recording Y/N, but never mind. The editing team has a lot of work ahead.”

“Well, damn. I’m sorry guys!” Charlie laughs for the thousandth time today. There is nothing better in life than sharing your days with your best friend. He can't wait to formalize that ‘forever’.

Thank you for reading✨

NEXT PART HERE

Taglist: @writerinlearning , @ghostofmgg, @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress, @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa, @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13, @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it

[literate-lamb]

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics​ and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises. 

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store. 

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night. 

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him. 

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.” 

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops. 

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches. 

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair. 

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date. 

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say. 

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it. 

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days. 

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?” 

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things. 

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour. 

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby. 

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane. 

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka. 

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling. 

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled. 

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago. 

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster. 

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you. 

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.” 

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?” 

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers. 

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors. 

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand. 

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. 

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms. 

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third. 

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?” 

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar. 

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt. 

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world. 

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two. 

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

 “Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry. 

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know. 

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in. 

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.” 

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire. 

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.” 

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers. 

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’ 

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.” 

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence. 

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back. 

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed. 

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.” 

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running. 

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear 

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍 

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’ 

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately. 

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?” 

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.” 

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt. 

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand… 

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this. 

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end. 

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive. 

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.” 

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—” 

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room. 

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his. 

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his. 

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red. 

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds. 

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala. 

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it. 

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you. 

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it. 

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived. 

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself. 

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America. 

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar. 

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said. 

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access. 

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter. 

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes. 

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment. 

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication. 

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

[eternally-writing]

grammys grief | knj

genre: fluff and angst

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: Namjoon x reader

theme: idol!au, boyfriend!au, one-shot

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none (Namjoon is pretty sad though)

synopsis: After a devastating Grammys loss, Namjoon comes to you for some comfort.

(A/N: Recording Academy if you’re reading this, I don’t like you.)

banner by me!

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“I’m sorry” were the first words you said as you opened your apartment door to see a sulky Namjoon.

“I just didn’t want to be alone right now,” mumbled Namjoon as he tossed off his shoes in your entryway.

You get it, or at least if you don’t get it you try your best to. You don’t know what it’s like to be a part of a chart-topping, record-breaking group that just got snubbed by the Recording Academy. You don’t know what it’s like to have the pressure of carrying the image of South Korea on your shoulders, but for Namjoon you’ll try, and you’ll do anything to take his pain away. 

There was a reason Namjoon always came to your apartment when he was sad. He usually tried to pass it off as him wanting to come over because you had a French press and could make his favourite coffee, but the truth was that being at your place felt like home. The caramel-colored walls and small knick-knacks lining your shelves enveloped Namjoon with a strong sense of familiarity. No matter what judgment seemed to face him in the real world, the four walls of your apartment harbored all his secrets and never told a soul, and you did the same. 

Looking over from your kitchen to Namjoon on the couch and seeing him bundled up into a tiny ball made your heart yearn in pain for him. Namjoon always seemed like a big, powerful leader, and you had never seen him look more small than he did at this moment. You wished you could take a photo of him and send it to the Recording Academy to show them how their terrible treatment of BTS affected them. The Grammys milked BTS for every bit of clout that they could with no remorse, and you hated them deeply for it. Of course the biased judgement of the Grammys was no secret, and honestly if the Grammys didn’t mean so much to Joon and the rest of the boys you definitely would just shun the Grammys all together, but this was Joon’s dream and you wanted to support him in any way you could.

Hearing the noises of your French press machine whirring to life in the kitchen, Namjoon glanced at your frame bustling around the kitchen. By the time you are finished and are carrying a mug of coffee over to your living room, Namjoon has already tucked himself into your blankets and curled himself into the corner of your couch. Looking over at you, Namjoon could see the look on your face that was silently asking “are you okay?”. Before the words could leave your mouth, Namjoon already beat you to sharing his answer. 

“It’s all good,” he mumbled as he shrugged his shoulders.

You sighed as you walked towards him. You had dealt with loud angry Namjoon, quiet angry Namjoon, crying Namjoon, happy Namjoon,  and even more. But you’ve never been around this Namjoon: quiet, frustrated, disappointed Namjoon. 

Taking a seat beside Joon on the couch, you laid a hand on his thigh and looked him in the eye. 

“I have watched you say “it’s all good” for the past 6 hours. Every interview, the vlive, and with the boys too. This doesn’t have to be “all good” Joon. You worked incredibly hard, you were successful, and you were robbed of an award that should have been yours. It’s sad, it really is, and I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You cuddled yourself closer into Namjoon’s side, wrapping your arms around him in an effort to help shield him from the negativity which he was facing. Nestling your head into his chest, you continued on. 

“I’m sorry they used you like that. It’s not fair and it shouldn’t be happening. I’m proud of you yknow? You were right about how amazing it is that you’ve come this far. The first Korean act to ever give a solo performance at the Grammys? That will go down in history.”

You heard Namjoon sigh and place a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“I don’t know it’s just - to come this far and not win? It hurts. I don’t know, maybe I’ve been awake for too many hours and am just upset that I got fully dressed for absolutely nothing. But seeing Jimin so upset that he’s barely said a word all day? Hearing Yoongi crying in the bathroom because he wanted the award so badly? I know I wanted this award so badly, but I know the boys really wanted it too. I just feel like I’ve left them down as their leader.”

You could feel the pain in his voice. The rawness. The emotion. 

Kim Namjoon, the love of your life, was in pain and you felt like there was nothing you could do about it. If you could you would craft a Grammy yourself out of your own bare hands, but unfortunately you didn’t have any magical powers or welding skills that would let you do so. The best you could do is be a comforting voice and lend an ear to listen to his troubles.

As much as you wished you could handle this all by yourself, you definitely needed to call in some reinforcements. 

As you pulled your phone out and Namjoon could see you go to open twitter, he groaned. 

“Please no, Y/N. That dispatch article saying we failed was enough media coverage for me today,” he said as he turned his head away from the screen. 

“No I promise this is gonna be good, babe. Trust me on this ok? Give me 5 minutes and then we can stop if you want.” 

Relinquishing his time to you, Namjoon pulled you closer to him and leaned his head on your shoulder to get a good look at your phone. 

Namtiddie_appreciation: To Namjoon, the most fearless leader:  We are so proud of you. You have and will continue to lead BTS to keep breaking down barriers in the music industry, and it’s the Grammys loss if they can’t see your talent. 

shooky_cooky: I hope BTS knows how proud ARMY are of them tonight. They handled everything today with such grace and respect, and I have never been more proud to look up to them. The world needs more BTS!

Army_for_life613: I know BTS may not have one a Grammy tonight, but they are the reason I am alive today. I don’t think that I will ever be able to repay for the love that they have given me but I will keep supporting them forever! <3 

You looked up at Joon’s face to see the most genuine smile on Namjoon’s face that you had seen all day. 

Taking one hand to wipe the tears away from his face, you smiled at him. 

“There’s more you know,” you said, “I could read these to you all day. Probably for a couple days before I even start running out of tweets. But then we could move to Weverse to read the millions of comments over there too”

The sound of Namjoon’s laughter reaching your ears was the best sound you had ever heard. He stared down at you with a look of awe.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said. 

“Do what?”

“Make everything ok no matter what. I barely knew how to comfort the boys, let alone myself. But somehow you always say the right things, so thank you.”

“You’re making me sound like a superhero, Joon. And as much as I would love to take credit for this, all I’m doing is reading out tweets. You could probably replace me with a robot if you wanted.”

Namjoon pulled you onto his lap and pulled you into the tightest hug. 

“Sure I could get a robot, but where could I find a robot that’s this cute?” he said as he pinched your cheeks. 

Giggling in Namjoon’s embrace, you continued to scroll on your phone, eventually showing Namjoon another set of tweets. 

“Speaking of ARMY though, they lowkey seem like they’re going to start a riot, not gonna lie. You should put out something to distract them or something,” you said with a chuckle.

With a quick nod, Namjoon pulled out his phone to show you the photo in question, ready to go in his Weverse drafts. 

You chuckled at the photo. That definitely is your sexy boyfriend. 

“That’s perfect babe, let them have at it.”

Soon enough, after posting the gym selfie, Namjoon’s photo had caused Weverse to break yet again (you’re never gonna stop making the joke about him breaking the internet). #BigHitclosethegyms was trending yet again, and you both had the time of your lives reading the funniest comments of the bunch. 

Tomorrow would be the start of BTS’s new journey to win a Grammy, but at least for today it was just about you and Joon reading funny comments and drinking French press coffee. And next year, you were sure that they were gonna win.

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- Emily